Tell The Story — New Beginnings

803749E7-D070-45F4-9FB5-D8B89A435023I’ve been tagged by Dr. Tanya at Salted Caramel to tell the story about this image.

Dan and Diana first met one another at the breakfast bar at the resort hotel. They began to talk and discovered that each of them had just gotten out of a dysfunctional relationship and had traveled to this island paradise for a new beginning.

They talked for about two hours and discovered that they really had a lot in common. And best of all, they each found the other to be very attractive. At the end of their extended breakfast, Dan asked Diana if she had any specific plans for the day, and when she admitted that she did not, he suggested that they change into their bathing suits and head to the hotel’s beach.

“It will be way too crowded there,” Diana said. “I was here two years ago with my ex, and we found a beautiful beach not too far from here that was practically deserted. We should rent bikes and cycle there.”

“Sounds like a great idea,” Dan said. “Let’s meet at the bike rental desk in half an hour.” Before heading to his room, Dan stopped by at the concierge desk and ordered a picnic lunch basket and a bottle of wine.

Dan was thrilled with Diana, and his depression over his recently failed relationship was lifting. Diana, too, was excited about having met Dan. She had just escaped from an abusive situation and Dan seemed to have a sweet, gentle soul. What a welcome change he would be.

They rented two bikes and rode for about 20 minutes until Diana instructed Dan to follow her off the paved trail. She led him to a pristine beach with fine, white sand gently kissed by calm, aqua water. Other than two beach chaise lounges under a large, straw beach umbrella, the beach was empty. They left their bikes next to a small glade of coconut trees and carried their beach towels, along with the picnic lunch basket that Dan had had ordered, to the chaise lounges.

Once there, Diana gave Dan a sensual look and started to remove her bikini top. Dan stared at her, dumbfounded. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“There’s no one else around,” Diana said, “so I thought it would be fun to go skinny dipping in these gorgeous, calm waters.” By the time she had finished her sentence, she had pulled the string on her bikini bottoms, which fell down to the sand in front of her feet. “Your turn,” she said.

Dan just stood there immobilized, staring at the naked woman standing before him. Growing impatient, Diana walked over to him, still smiling, moistening her slightly parted lips with her tongue. She reached for the waistband of his swimming trunks, but he grabbed her hands and stopped her. “Have you ever heard the expression, ‘it’s not the size of the wand that counts, it’s the magic behind it?’” he asked.

“No. Why?” Diana asked, and then, in one swift move, she yanked his trunks down to his ankles. Her eyes got wide and a puzzled expression appeared on her face.

Dan blushed.

Diana said, “Oh my God, is that all there is?”

So I know I’m supposed to tag three other bloggers to write their own Tell The Story Challenge post to a picture I select. But instead while I’m going to select a picture, I’m not going to tag any particular bloggers. Instead I am going and ask anyone who is interested in running with it to write their own Tell The Story Challenge to this image by Jonathan Kemper at Unsplash.E6E7EA27-2366-45D2-BD71-3571ECBA150E

Tell The Story — Don’t Even Think About It


I was tagged by Chris, at Luna’s On Line, to tell the story about the image above, which is called “Flowers Beating” by Walter Molino.

So here’s my story.

Harold Alton and Anita James we’re walking back from the courthouse together. They were both members of the jury for a trial of some local ne’er-do-well. There seemed to be a chemistry that had developed between the two of them during the course of the trial. Anita thought Mr. Alton to be a rather enchanting gentleman. And he was, likewise taken with Miss James.

On the day the trial ended, Harold asked Anita if he could walk her back to her home, and she readily accepted his offer. On the way to her home, he stopped in at a flower shop and picked up a dozen long stem roses. As he left the shop, he bowed gallantly and handed them to Anita. “Oh Mr. Alton,” Anita said, “these roses are lovely. You shouldn’t have.” She let out a dainty laugh.

“Lovely roses for a lovely lady, Miss James,” Harold said. And then he reached over and kissed her.

“Why Mr. Alton, what in heaven’s name do you think you’re doing?” Anita protested.

“Come now, Miss James,” Don’t act like such a fragile, innocent lady,” Harold said. “I see you in your low cut, sleeveless blouse, your red skirt, and your high heeled shoes. I know you wore that to court today just to entice me. Admit it, Miss James. We had an instant connection and I know you want me as much as I want you.”

“Don’t even think about it, Mr. Alton!” Anita screamed, and she began swatting at the man’s head with the long stem roses, thorns and all.

According to the rules, I’m now supposed to offer a new picture and challenge three other bloggers to tell the story for that picture. But since this was my third Tell The Story Challenge, I’m just going to open this challenge up to any blogger who would like to write a story about this same image.

In addition to the Tell The Story Challenge, this post includes these three daily prompt words from yesterday: Ragtag Daily Prompt (trial), Your Daily Word Prompt (enchant), and Word of the Day Challenge (fragile).

Tell The Story — The Magical Geisha

59551D20-6951-4855-B47B-D77951F726B3Dave stared at the painting hanging on the wall of the small art gallery. “This looks so familiar, he said to his wife. “I’m getting a feeling of déjà vu.”

“We’ve never been to Japan,” Mary said. She got a sarcastic grin on her face. “Have you been having erotic fantasy dreams about geisha girls?”

Dave looked puzzled. “I swear I’ve seen something like this before,” he said. “I remember watching a geisha doing a dance with fans at sunset and the leaves falling from the trees around her would magically transform into birds and fly away.”

“Maybe you remember it from a movie or a show,” Mary suggested. “Was it possibly in ‘Flower Drum Song’ or ‘The Mikado,’ that Gilbert & Sullivan opera?”

“Maybe, just maybe,” Dave said, “I’m a reincarnated samurai and I’m having a flashback to my prior life.”

“Or maybe, just maybe, you ate one too many of your ‘magic mushrooms’ before we left,” Mary quipped.

“Yeah, maybe,” Dave said, laughing.

Di, at Pensitivity101, tagged me to Tell the Story about the image at the top of this post. Now I’m supposed to present a new image and tag three other bloggers to tell the story about that image. Here’s the image from, who to pick? Let’s see how good these three are at storytelling:

Ursula at An Upturned Soul.
Tina at Tina Stewart Brakebill
Roger at It’s All In Finding the Right Words.

Of course, participation is optional, but I hope you’ll give it a try.

Time To Write/Tell The Story

8708F05E-E327-4F5C-A6BF-02FAECD2F178Denise had a love/hate relationship with camping. She loved the idea of getting away from the hustle bustle of city living and heading out to paradise to commune with nature. But she hated having to deal with critters, ranging from bears to raccoons to snakes. And most of all, she hated bugs, especially spiders. They terrified her.

But camping was her husband’s passion. If he could, he would be very happy selling their nice, comfortable home and moving into a large tent or a yurt in some secluded spot in the forest next to a bubbling brook. He would occasionally get irritated at Denise over her indifference toward camping. So, in order to promote peace and harmony in their household, Denise had agreed to go camping once a month. She felt it was worth the sacrifice to hold their marriage together.

Unfortunate, that all ended on their last camping trip when Denise was using the campground outhouse to do her business and a humongous spider crawled up and sat staring at her with its eight nasty spider eyes. Denise ran screaming out of the outhouse and told her husband that she was never going camping again.

“But this is paradise,” he said.

Denise looked at him and said, “Yeah, paradise lost.”

This post was written the Tell The Story prompt for which Melanie, at Sparks from a Combustible Mind, tagged me. Also for Rachel Poli’s Time To Write, where the prompt is “love & hate.”

Also written for these daily prompts: Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (paradise), Your Daily Word Prompt (indifference), Word of the Day Challenge (worth), and Ragtag Daily Prompt (lost).

Tell The Story — Punctuality

96D5CDBB-4888-4BEE-8369-5ACFCEC2D6F5Frank always prided himself on the fact that he was never late. He was always on time, no matter what. Big or small, important or trivial, Frank was there when he was scheduled to be there, regardless of where there was or why he needed to be there.

Frank’s penchant for punctuality was well-known by those who knew him, whether they were his work associates or his friends and family. “You can set your watch by him,” people would say of Frank. He never tired of hearing that.

Frank met Barbara at a company function. They talked and they clicked. Where Frank was fastidious, Barbara was spontaneous. Where Frank was meticulous, Barbara was messy. She was so unlike Frank, so different, that he found her irresistible.

He ended up spending that night with her, a night like no other night Frank had ever experienced. And for the first time in his life, Frank lost track of time. Punctuality lost its importance. Frank didn’t care if he made it there on time — wherever there was or why he needed to be there.

In this particular case, Frank needed to catch a 10 a.m. train to Boston for a very important business meeting. But Barbara used all of her delightful feminine wiles to persuade Frank to not hurry for that 10:00 train. “You can catch the next train to Boston,” she implored. “It leaves at noon. Stay with me for a while longer.” And she pulled Frank back down into the bed with her.

Everyone he knew expected Frank to have been on the 10 a.m. train that morning because Frank was always on time and was never late. Everyone who knew Frank was in a state of shock when they heard that he was among the casualties in the train derailment of the noon express to Boston that day.

Everyone but Barbara, that is.

Sadje, at Keep It Alive, tagged me to “Tell The Story” based upon this image at the top of this post. According to the Tell The Story Challenge rules, I’m now supposed to post a new picture and tag three other bloggers to tell a story about that picture. But I’m not going to do that. Instead, I’m going to invite anyone who wants to write their own Tell The Story post to this same picture to feel free to do so.