روايات بقلم Carrie Elise

Melody and Gage arrive at the harbor side restaurant just as the sun begins its descent toward the water, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose. Melody pauses at the entrance, drawing in a slow breath of salt-tinged air, and lets the last of the day’s warmth settle over her shoulders like a familiar embrace. Gage watches her for a moment before offering his arm, his smile betraying a quiet eagerness he hasn’t felt in years.The establishment occupies a weathered building that once served as a fisherman’s warehouse, its exposed brick walls now softened by warm bulbs and trailing ivy. Decades of salt air have worn the timber beams to a silvery gray, yet the space still hums with the echo of old labor, of nets once hauled and catches once weighed. Strings of amber lights crisscross the ceiling, casting a honeyed glow over the room, while the faint clink of glasses and murmur of conversation drift from the tables nearest the water. Melody’s fingers tighten slightly around Gage’s

Leo and Mia sit in the backseat of the heated RAV4, seatbelts stretched across their chests and latched securely. The windows have fogged slightly from the warmth inside, creating a cocoon against the crisp morning air. Both children have grown noticeably taller since their summer arrival—their heads simply reach higher in the seats. Melody cruises along the pine-framed two-lane road, her fingers relaxed on the steering wheel. She glances occasionally at the cool autumn sun rising in the pale sky, its light filtering through the towering pines that line both sides of the road. In the rearview mirror, she catches glimpses of the children—Leo staring out the window with quiet contemplation, Mia clutching her new backpack against her chest. Their destination is the elementary school, a single-story red brick building that has stood for decades, weathered and familiar, just a few miles from their home and the beach. Mia shifts in her seat, and Melody hears the small intake of breath tha

Outside the resilient, dome-shaped cottage of pastel blue and dark blue shutters, the Caldwell sisters stand in the cool, misty air. Emerald Isle's grey-blue ocean swells, rise high and dissipate at the white sandy shore. A hidden sun remains out of sight, not even peeking behind the gloomy clouds. Heavy salt runs stronger in the air, this Sunday morning. Melody can taste it on her tongue and feel it in her nares. A light wind tugs at their hair and sleeves. It's nearly September, and something about the changing season presses on them both, unspoken but shared.Melody wraps her lavender cardigan tighter, her white Sunday dress, ruffles in the thick sea breeze. Her eyes fix on the horizon as though she might find an answer there. Harmony sporting grey slip on sneakers, shifts her weight from foot to foot. One hand rests on her designer suitcase handle, the other smoothes over her denim capris, as she twists her mouth side to side. Neither speaks. The silence between them holds years o

The evening sun dips toward the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink. A cool breeze sweeps across the deck, carrying with it the salty tang of the ocean and the lingering sweetness of birthday cake. For the first time in years, Melody felt genuine satisfaction settle in her chest—a lightness that came from knowing her ex-husband had finally been brought to justice. She is divorced, free, and ready to celebrate.The deck still bears the cheerful chaos of the birthday party. Green and blue streamers twisted in the wind, their metallic surfaces catching the fading light. Balloons bobbed and swayed, some already beginning to deflate. On one table sat tubs of chocolate and vanilla ice cream, their contents melting slowly in the warm evening air. A metal scooper rested beside them, abandoned. The centerpiece was a dissected three-layer cake decorated with a nautical theme—sharks, fish, anchors, and ocean waves adorned each tier. The blue vinyl tablecloth rippled

Melody attends Blaze's court hearing online from her sunroom, where open windows invite the rhythmic sounds of the ocean inside and enable the sun rays to leak in. The mid-morning sun, warm and peachy, rests above the deep blue waters, casting a gentle glow that seems to soften the world's edges. Its light dances across the rippling surface, creating patterns of gold and amber that shifts with each passing wave. The warmth touches everything it reaches, a tender embrace that promises the day will unfold with quiet grace. She watches waves roll forward and kiss the shore. Therapeutic music fills the space. It's gentle tune—calming guitar strings, flute, and piano—reaches through her soul like a balm, soothing her anxious mind. Each note untangles the knots of tension that have gathered in her chest. The guitar's warm resonance reminds her of simpler times, while the flute's airy whisper seems to carry away her worries. As the piano joins in with soft, deliberate chords, she feels her

Gage recovers slowly, his strength returning day by day. The wound on his head—where Blaze struck him with a metal rod during last week's hurricane—still shows bruising that has faded from brown to yellow. A small gash, sealed with liquid stitches, marks the spot where the blow landed. His mild concussion has resolved, though the memory of that moment still haunts him in quiet hours.He finds himself grateful for small victories: standing without dizziness, reading without the words blurring together, sleeping through the night without waking to phantom pains. Each morning brings subtle improvements that he catalogs carefully, as if documenting his own resurrection. The physical healing progresses steadily, but something deeper troubles him—a vulnerability he hadn't known before, a newfound awareness of how quickly everything can shatter.Gage sits in the sunroom with Melody as she awaits the divorce hearing online. Her fingers drum nervously against the armrest, a rhythm only he seem

Autumn is so beautiful here," Scarlett says, gazing at the trees with a wistful smile. "Look at all the colors—red, orange, yellow, all blending together like something out of a painting." She pauses, breathing in the crisp air, savoring the moment before continuing. "We really don't get this kind of scenery back in Texas. It's just not the same." A hint of longing creeps into her voice as she thinks of home. "There are a few maples scattered here and there, maybe around San Antonio, or out on the 16, near Lost Maples. That's usually where I go to get my fall foliage fix." She lets out a small, nostalgic laugh, her eyes still tracing the vibrant canopy above. "But it's nothing compared to this. Honestly, I could stand here all day just taking it in."Oliver pauses, thinking about it as if envisioning the areas Scarlett mentioned. His eyes drift toward the horizon, searching for some memory of those distant hillsides. "I am not sure if those maples really turn red or orange, since it's

It’s Thursday morning, the train chugs along as sceneries blur past the window. Scotty rests in his carrier, tucked beneath the blue and grey vinyl train seat, his small breaths steady with sleep. Scarlett shivers from the draft and wraps a pink, maroon, and crème plaid shawl around her shoulders. She pulls it tight against the chill that seems to seep through the old windowpane. She has always found train travel a little lonely, and today is no exception; the empty seat across from her seems to amplify the quiet hum of the tracks below. On the seat beside her, the train tickets, one for her and one for Scotty, offer something to review, to read and busy her restless mind with. She glances at them more than necessary, as if rereading the printed names might cure her boredom. Her eyes drift to the waterproof suitcases resting nearby, one medium-sized for her and one small, for Scotty. She has packed carefully for the weekend, folding in not just clothes but small comforts: Scotty’s favo

The rural Connecticut RV park sits about an hour by train from New York City, nestled among rolling mountains blanketed in a variety of tree species. Scarlett can only identify the maples and pines, but she doesn’t mind her limited knowledge—there’s something peaceful about simply admiring beauty without needing to name every part of it. The maples have begun their transformation, their leaves deepening into shades of reddish-orange that seem to glow from within. The early October air carries a cool, crisp freshness that fills her lungs and clears her mind. A warm amber light bathes Scarlett, tinting strands of her hair with gold and adding a subtle glimmer to her marbled blue-green eyes. She tilts her face toward the setting sun, which hovers just above the mountain ridge, and lets its fading warmth settle over her skin. The New England autumn breeze cools her cheeks. There’s a quiet contentment in this contrast, the push and pull of warmth and chill mirroring the changing season its

Scarlett is sitting in the driver’s seat of her blue super duty truck, on highway 1604, traffic is at a stand still as usual. She glances at the clock on her dash, five-twenty seven in the evening, still daylight out, no sun set in sight. It’s only the beginning of October. We’re supposed to meet at the park in a few minutes! Running errands throughout the day took longer than anticipated. Hmm. I wonder if he is already there. Traffic nudges forward, as Scarlett takes the exit toward Eisenhower park. A busy parking lot, reminds Scarlett she is not alone, simply to herself amongst strangers minding their own. Just as she likes. She guides her truck into a spot, the driver door swings open after a push, her pink and tan hiking boots stomp the pavement as she lifts off the step bar. Her hydration pack firmly drapes over her back and shoulders, a waterspout makes for easy thirst quenching. Glancing around, soaking in the nature, a dirt path lined by oak trees, catches her eyes. Scarlett

Tuesday morning arrives quietly, sunlight slipping through the RV windows and settling across Scarlett’s room in soft, golden patches. Late September carries a cool draft that curls around her, though her white shabby chic ruffled comforter holds its warmth beneath. She stretches, reluctant to abandon the cocoon of blankets just yet. The white shiplap vinyl wallpaper lends the space an airy, weightless feel, while a blue accent wall frames the king-size bed with its rustic white headboard, grounding the room in something sturdier, something like home. Scarlett lingers for a moment, savoring the quiet before the day demands anything of her. There’s a particular peace in these early minutes—no obligations, no noise, just the hush of morning and the faint scent of lavender. She closes her eyes again, memorizing the stillness, knowing it won’t last. She rises and places her bare feet on the light oak faux hardwood flooring, still cool from the night. Glancing down, she examines her toenai

Scarlett maneuvers through the busy airport, weaving in between people, and retrieves her suitcase. She holds rental car keys in her softened hand, and makes her way to another car, this time a Camaro. A smile forms on her pleased face; admiring the car like it’s an attractive man. A sigh escapes her lungs. Exiting the rental car parking lot with ease, she guides the dark blue Camaro down a busy road. Scarlett finds a spot to capture the city skyline and bridges. The blue lights remind her where she is. A place of seldom visits, a Texas city, nonetheless. One of the largest featuring McMansions, large buildings, and shopping centers galore. The first time Scarlett recalls ice skating, she remembers the pink sweatpants with white snowflakes, the elastic band wrapping around the sole of her foot to keep them tucked in to her ice skates. She mistakenly grazes her finger along the blade, not realizing how sharp it was. Blood drips out, like a paper cut. “Mom, I cut myself.” Scarlett tur

In the morning the sun peers in through the window. Peter opens his eyes, looks at Gracie and cuddles her, she awakens looking at him smiling, then kisses him. He looks at the clock and says, “I need to go home so I can get ready for work.” Gracie slightly disappointed but accepts the reality check. He kisses her cheek, then her neck, then her pink lips. His soulful blue-green eyes, pour adoration into her sparkling green eyes. Peter plays with her hair, strokes her face, then kisses her one more time. He rolls out of Gracie’s bed, gets dressed, pets Gunner. “See you later, pal.” Gracie gets up to walk Peter out. They kiss one more time, he hugs her lifting her up, so her feet are off the ground, The slender woman curls her legs up then releases them back down until they reach the ground. Peter drives off in his dark blue truck. Gunner runs out to go potty, he runs a few laps, then comes back inside. Gracie feeds him, then herself. After freshening up, she resonates on the cabin for

The Following week Gracie is at the blood drive to donate blood. Paxton is beside her donating as well. He finishes before her and sits waiting for her. Once she is done, she gets up too fast and faints as she walks in front of Paxton, he stands up and catches her. He looks at her displaying concern then lays her back down on the donation bed. She is assessed by the workers. The lack of blood made her faint, but her vital signs are good.” I’ll be back in about thirty minutes” he said. “Please keep an eye on her, and do not let her get up again.” Paxton went to get his tow dolly to put her jeep on so he can take her and the vehicle home. I think she needs to rest for the remainder of the day. He thinks to himself. After he returns, she is still laying on the donating bed, recovering from giving away her blood to needy people. “Gracie, I have your jeep on a dolly attached to my truck, I’m going to take you and your jeep home ok. I’ll stay with you the rest of the day,” Paxton picks Grac

Gracie and Gunner cruise down highway sixteen in the jeep with the top off. She takes a left at highway forty-six savoring the hilly, winding, curving road. The scenic view of mostly hills and some houses brings joy to Gracie’s mind. The sun is shining down on her while the wind is blowing her hair. The woman glances in the rear view mirror at her beautiful dog sitting happily in the backseat. His black and brown fur gently moves from the wind, his harness is attached to the seat belt to keep him safe and secure. His loving brown eyes focus on hers as she looks at him. Gunner is the light of Gracie’s life, her pride and joy, her best companion. She continues to drive the highway marveling while complacent in the moment full of joy, peace, solitude, and tranquility. Before she knows it, they arrive at the lake. She brings out her inflatable double kayak so Gunner can ride with her. She recalls to put sunblock on herself. Then, leaves the cooler in the jeep and is wearing her bikini wit

It’s Tuesday and Gracie has signed up to volunteer with building a house. She is interested in woodworking so maybe this can help her with acquiring skills and learning how to handle the different types of saw machines. Upon arrival, Gracie sees Paxton. The house has already been framed with the siding and roof put on. They are inside working on the interior. Gracie and Paxton work closely together on a task, laying tile together. The two on their knees on the floor. Paxton hands her a tile as she looks into his soulful brown eyes, he peers into her sparkling green eyes and takes a step towards her. He leans closer to her face ready to kiss her but one of the other volunteers walked in. They resume tiling the floor in the room. Soon it is lunch time, someone has brought sandwiches and drinks. The volunteers take a break to eat and mingle. Following lunch, since the tile was done, Gracie is paired with a group performing a different task. She mingles with the other volunteers while the

Friday morning and Gracie is a little groggy from the night before. Her alarm buzzing at seven am. She looks at her phone then realizes she signed up to Volunteer for the food drive. She sees notifications from the dating site. It is Peter, “I enjoyed dancing with you last night, we should do it again.” Gracie decides not to respond right now. The woman gets ready for the day. She makes it to the food drive at nine. Paxton is in the parking lot loading canned food onto a utility cart. He comes over to greet her and take her box of donated food. Gracie checks the list which has her assigned to help sort canned goods. Gracie and several others are sorting through bags of goods donated. Paxton appears and is assigned to a different group, where he is with several women. He seems a little flirty with them. Gracie did not know Paxton would be here. She feels a little awkward. Then Peter walks towards her section as he is assigned to the same group. Oh, now this is more awkward, Gracie tho

A few hours later, Gracie and an entourage of women meet at the country dancehall. There is a live band, people shout to hear one another. It is somewhat dark in the seating or standing areas and carpeted walkways. The bars are lit up, beer stations are sporadically located through the dancehall. There are cocktail servers walking around with test tube shots. The dance floor is lit up by overhead lighting. The dance floor features a bar that people can stand and dance on. Gracie and her friends get shots! She chooses butterscotch and Bailey’s, then a shot of tequila rose! After two rounds of shots at, they all order a regular drink. Gracie asked for a vodka and cranberry with lime. The cluster of women walked around the bar together until finding a spot to sit. They watch the band play as they talk and laugh. Gracie notices that classmate from middle school as he asks one of her friends to dance. His name is Frank Spencer. His blonde hair falls around his cheekbones, and his green eye