Archive for the Mady’s Storm Category

‘Mady’s Storm’ (Novella) Chapters 13 & 14

Posted in Fiction, I Died Once, Mady's Storm, Novella, Self Publishing, Story, The Written Word, Writer, Writing on February 21, 2020 by darkjade68

mady-cover2

My Novella ‘Mady’s Storm’ Continued

Mady’s Storm

A Novella

by James Mahoney (DarkJade)

Chapters 1 & 2

Chapters 3 & 4

Chapters 5 & 6

Chapters 7 & 8

Chapters 9 & 10

Chapters 11 & 12

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Family

 

The nightmares still seem to haunt me sometimes…

I can still see the whole scene; I even remember the feeling of the water around me, and remember vividly the sound of the gunshots meant to kill me…

Even after this long….

Some stones left unturned?

I hope not.

I sit up, holding the blanket close to my chest.

I can see the streaks of snow falling, and my window is covered in frost.

The Christmas lights have really begun to sprout up all over the city…

Funny how much warmer people seemed to get towards one another the closer it gets to Christmas…

I think I’m going to like celebrating holidays…

At least maybe one day a year will remind me, and return me to those nights in front of the fireplace with my father.

A Fireplace…

I don’t want to be alone in my apartment on Christmas, I find.

No one should be alone on Christmas.

*

It was that night that I decided to get out of the apartment, and find myself a home.

I looked for a home outside of New York City.

After about a week, I had, at last, found the house I decided to be mine…

It was three stories high, and had a huge fireplace.

I moved in right away.

The kitchen was beautiful too…

I had visions of learning to cook big, delicious meals…

But instead, I had hired a cook…

Then a maid, and a driver…

I even sent a note to Rabia and his family in Africa,

Inviting them to come and stay with me for the holidays.

To my pleasant surprise, they were thrilled to come…

And before I knew it, I had a house full of people…

A huge Christmas tree, decorated brilliantly in the living room…

Perhaps I am building my own family right here in America…

And it feels…

Wonderful.

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Contribution

 

Before I knew it, “The Sam and Scarlett Charity Ball” had arrived… The one for the Children’s Hospital…

I show up at the ball in a white and black ball gown, black high heels, diamond earrings, and a simple, pearl necklace.

My long, dark hair is up, in a tight bun.

And a deep red lipstick stains my lips.

I feel… Elegant.

The wolves are definitely out tonight… But I don’t let it bother me…

Instead I sip my bright red punch, listening to many, many wealthy, business people talk about money.

Apparently it makes the world go round…

But I also meet many of the children’s parents, as the Children’s Hospital Director said I would.

They are so very appreciative, and I, fairly speechless, become so humbled by their warmth…

*

The benefit is a huge success so far…

Some 350 of New York’s wealthy and famous show up, and many of them give healthy contributions.

I am thrilled, and feel… proud.

I think my father would be proud if he could see me… Who knows, maybe he can.

But for every contributor, there is also those that do not contribute when they find out the event is in honor of a woman.

This era has much to learn about simply being human.

But I know better.

The dark haired, blue eyed minx from Virginia has done good…

But some won’t leave it at that.

Some can’t leave it at that.

“Hello, again, Ms. Monroe.”

It is the New York reporter that had followed me to Virginia, and wrote that terrible article in the paper about me…

Randy McCormick.

“Hello Mr. McCormick,” I say politely.

He shakes my hand with a manic smile.

“I thought you already got your story,”

“Oh… There are always new stories to be had, when there are interesting people around, like yourself,” he replies, baring his teeth.

“I see… Well, another time perhaps,” I speak as I walk away.

Surely I’m not going to let one little news weasel mess with this night.

Not on your life…

**************************************************

THE CHRONICLES OF MADY;

BOOK 1 – ‘I Died Once’ Novella Available @ Amazon HERE

BOOK 2 – ‘Mady’s Storm’ Novella Available @ Amazon HERE

‘Mady’s Storm’ (Novella) Chapters 11 & 12

Posted in Fiction, I Died Once, Mady's Storm, Novella, Self Publishing, Story, The Written Word, Writer, Writing on February 20, 2020 by darkjade68

mady-cover2

My Novella ‘Mady’s Storm’ Continued

Mady’s Storm

A Novella

by James Mahoney (DarkJade)

Chapters 1 & 2

Chapters 3 & 4

Chapters 5 & 6

Chapters 7 & 8

Chapters 9 & 10

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A Time of Giving

 

I sit alone in the dark of my apartment, looking out my window as the bright colors of the holiday lights flicker.

Christmas is almost here.

My father didn’t necessarily celebrate holidays.

No, for us everyday seemed like some sort of holiday.

Perhaps living in Africa was the holiday. It may have been easier, existing far from the material realities displayed in Europe, and in the States.

But it seems Christmas is more than that. It is a time of sharing…

A time of giving…

*

The Hospital Director, a tall, grey haired man, shows me around the different floors of the hospital.

I decided to wear a dark blue, professional skirt, and a cream colored blouse for the occasion, though the chill outside is particularly unbearable.

“We’re doing our best with the little amount of funds our hospital receives,” The director says to me.

We pass by several open rooms, where sick children can be seen in their hospital beds.

Several are playing board games with family members, trying to celebrate the spirit of the holidays.

My mind drifts back to Africa, where sights like this are common, sick children and their families huddled together in little rooms….

I feel a sense of belonging, a connection. It is as if I am no different…

I realize, in this moment, that humanity is not so different than in Africa. And my father had always helped the sick there.

“Most people that donate money towards hospitals, or medical research, do so within regular hospitals… Often funds go towards heart conditions, and/or life threatening diseases that usually have more to do with adults, than they do with children,” the Director explains. “Sadly, not much of it trickles over to the Children’s Hospital”

“I understand” I say “Well, I’d like to donate $100,000 to the Children’s Hospital,” I had my mind made up long before he mentioned any of this, but seeing these children made me offer more than I had originally planned.

I smile inside as the Director freezes, wide eyed and speechless “$100,000?” he asks.

“As soon as possible,” I continue. I open my purse, and hand him my card.

“Here’s the number to my Financial Adviser, her name is Brett Stevens. She’s very nice. She has been given specific instructions to wire your hospital the money, I’ll let her know the amount once I reach my apartment, then call anytime.”

“I don’t know what to say, Miss Monroe… Your generosity is overwhelming,” He replies.

“Your acceptance of the money and compassion for these children are enough,” I finish as I look into the room of a sick child. A young boy of four or five with gorgeous, golden hair, he turns his head and we lock eyes.

All at once I feel not only that I matter, but I am realizing that America is so much more than I once believed….

And that maybe I do have a purpose outside of being my father’s daughter…

“That being the case, we’d like to throw a Christmas Ball in your honor, if that’d be alright?” speaks the Director, breaking my stare with the child. “It will give you an opportunity to meet some of the children’s parents whose lives you’re affecting,” He explains.

“I‘ll agree to it, if you make it a Charity Ball…” I tell him as the idea pops in my head. “Perhaps we can drum up some additional donations, or charitable souls, and really get your research on track…”  I say as I remove one of my gloves, and the shake his hand.

Is this what it means to have money? Maybe the concept was completely different than I had ever thought, the power, much more altruistic and a responsibility than I had ever known.

My focus shifts to my surroundings then, and I grimace in response.

“Also, I don’t want to cross any lines, but you might consider painting this place using more reds, yellows, blues, greens and oranges…” I suggest as we head for the exit “Greys and faded pinks are very depressing I find… Not that I am educated in such things,”

“No, I believe you’re right… And studies are starting to say such things,” the Director replies excitedly.

It is like I cannot stop wanting to help, wanting to give….

“Also… I have a plantation in Africa…” I nearly blurt out “I’ll have them ship some professional photos of the landscapes there, for you to hang in each of the children’s rooms… Just let my Financial Adviser know how many rooms you have, we’ll put one in for each bed in the room.

Before the Director says anything, I speak again, “Africa is truly amazing… Every child deserves to experience it in any way that is possible.”

“Yes… Certainly,” the Director replies, but doesn’t seem too enthusiastic with the thought. People have their thoughts of Africa, I know. Why do you think I wanted to send Rabia back?

I say my goodbye, and walk out into the cold, winter wind. I turn my head a final time to look at the hospital silhouette in the dark, grey sky.

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

Questions

 

I sit alone again, a small glass of brandy in one hand, a cigarette in the other.

My mind drifts back to the money I donated to the Children’s Hospital.

For the first time, I feel there’s an actual use for my parent’s money…

Don’t get me wrong… I know that money doesn’t grow on trees…

And I know that my parents wouldn’t want me to give it all away.

So I won’t.

But I would like to give once in a while, which is why I brought on a financial adviser to help my money grow…

For that is something that I know absolutely nothing about.

A Career…

I’ve never had one.

I am still very young, it probably wouldn’t hurt to have one…

But what?

Lately the passing of my father seems to have hatched a whole world of questions…

And very few answers.

But what answers do I really need anyway?

**************************************************

THE CHRONICLES OF MADY;

BOOK 1 – ‘I Died Once’ Novella Available @ Amazon HERE

BOOK 2 – ‘Mady’s Storm’ Novella Available @ Amazon HERE

‘Mady’s Storm’ (Novella) Chapters 9 & 10

Posted in Fiction, I Died Once, Mady's Storm, Novella, Self Publishing, Story, The Written Word, Writer, Writing on February 19, 2020 by darkjade68

mady-cover2

My Novella ‘Mady’s Storm’ Continued

Mady’s Storm

A Novella

by James Mahoney (DarkJade)

Chapters 1 & 2

Chapters 3 & 4

Chapters 5 & 6

Chapters 7 & 8

CHAPTER NINE

Passion

 

Even though I am 23, I have hardly had any experience, nor interest in men.

But in New York, I received a quick education of them.

For the most part, I do not find them altogether useful…

At least not useful to me.

As I stand upon my apartment balcony, cigarette in one hand, brandy in the other, overlooking the vast and beautiful city lights below.

I think of my father.

He had shown me that good men do exist.

But I’m starting to have my doubts that any of them are here in New York City.

I decide it is best to not think of men, and just get ready for bed…alone

*

Red dress…

Black hair…

Warm hands…

Soft lips upon my neck…

Who was this man that had come to me in my dreams…

And what was he doing to my mouth, neck… body.

The image fades away, and I am awake, sweating heavily in my bed.

“Passion,” is the only word that leaves my mouth.

I’m starting to believe that I, as a woman, or at least as a human… am bottling up some sort of deep heated intensity.

And in New York, this could lead a young woman such as myself to an awful lot of ‘frivolous’, unadulterated, meaningless, ….interactions.

I walk to my bathroom, and find tossing cold water on my face cools me down a little.

The beads of water drip down my neck, and onto my chest.

“This will not do” I speak to myself.

Perhaps it is my soul that is hungry for something, not my body. Perhaps I need something other than sex to quench my thirst.

….Or at least, this is what I tell myself.

But what?

“Flying” I speak with a smile.

 

CHAPTER TEN

Airborne

 

I enter the plane hangar of a small New York airport, planes everywhere…

I decided to wear a mid-length, fairly slinky looking, black dress….

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, as the many pilots that inhabit this place stop whatever they are doing as I pass by.

“Holy hell” One of them mumbles.

I smile slightly…

But, I take flying more seriously than that…

So, I quickly find a bathroom, and change into the Pilot gear that I had picked up for the occasion.

This toned me down quite a bit… And I made sure to get an outfit that was a tad large on me, using a belt to secure it to my hips.

This, at least, hid my womanly curves.

And would, hopefully, stop the jaws from dropping long enough to get one of these guys to take me up for a flight

*

I walk into the bathroom after the flight to change back into my ‘leave nothing to the imagination’ dress.

My mind drifts back to the plane ride…this time not over the illustrious plains of Africa, but over the tall, skyscrapers of New York City….

It was amazing…

But…

It wasn’t the same. No. I wasn’t the same.

Why would I be, though?… I lost my father.

Losing a parent is one of the hardest things a person must deal with in their life…

And some people have never even met their parents…

I feel lost…

And confused…

And sad…

And …lonely.

And these are the things I’m thinking about after an amazing flight over New York City?

…Therapy?

Not now… I’m not ready for that kind of emotional, sure to be traumatic, mind delving.

No…

For now…

I guess I will come flying once a week…

Hell… I might even buy myself a plane. I have the money.

**************************************************

THE CHRONICLES OF MADY;

BOOK 1 – ‘I Died Once’ Novella Available @ Amazon HERE

BOOK 2 – ‘Mady’s Storm’ Novella Available @ Amazon HERE

‘Mady’s Storm’ (Novella) Chapters 7 & 8

Posted in Fiction, I Died Once, Mady's Storm, Novella, Self Publishing, Story, The Written Word, Writer, Writing on February 18, 2020 by darkjade68

mady-cover2

My Novella ‘Mady’s Storm’ Continued

Mady’s Storm

A Novella

by James Mahoney (DarkJade)

Chapters 1 & 2

Chapters 3 & 4

Chapters 5 & 6

CHAPTER SEVEN

Back to New York

 

“I must find a way…” I say out loud waking from a half- sleep.

“Excuse me, Miss?” replies Rabia

“Oh… Nothing,” I respond, realizing I must have been talking in my sleep.

I then look over at Rabia who is smiling at me.

“It is time you went home to Africa,” I say.

Rabia’s face becomes serious.

“I will not leave you, Miss. Not now. Not ever.” he explains.

“I insist Rabia… This American world of merchandise, and soulless chatter, is no place for the likes of you,”

“Nor for the likes of you, Miss… If I may so,”

“You may say so… And you are most likely right…” I reply with a slight smile. “But I will not be returning to Africa.”

Rabia is taken off guard, and looks at me shocked, even slightly hurt.

“And your family and wife await you there…” I continue. “It has already been over a month since you have seen them,”

“But, Miss…” Rabia tries to interject.

“No buts… ”

So he falls silent.

*

I sit alone at a small table in a New York City cafe.

Watching the people go by in a grey swirl.

A day after our return from Virginia, Rabia boarded a plane for Africa.

So it was just me now.

I have still not found a hired bodyguard… But I do have this…

I look into my black purse, where there is a shiny silver revolver.

I had learned how to fire it well from my father.

I pick up the newspaper again idly, the picture of me getting off the plane with Rabia on the cover.

“WHITE AFRICAN PRINCESS ARRIVES HOME IN NEW YORK AFTER VISITING VIRGINIA, HER PLACE OF SECRETS”

As I feared, when I returned to New York, the story of the ‘Young Heiress from Virginia, and Africa’ was indeed the major headline.

But I would not turn tail and run…

No… I would face, and accept this shallow shell of a newspaper tale.

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Wolves

 

Sadly, more than anything else, the newspaper tale seems to have drawn out many men…

Fortune hunters…

Or what I refer to as ‘wolves’, more interested in my fortune, than they were my sordid, and colorful past.

This made my nights at ‘The Clockwork Tavern’ both entertaining, and a bit bothersome.

But at least I would never have to pay for a drink again.

A tall light haired man with a mustache, a cowboy hat, and a light grey dapper suit approaches me.

“Ms. Caroline Monroe?” he asks.

I do not reply.

“May I sit?”

“Why not?” I reply, and as he sits, I stand and start to leave.

“Mrs. Monroe…” he says quickly as he stands again “My name is Rex Taylor…” he says as he takes off his hat, and puts it over his chest.

I stop, and turn back toward him.

“Should this mean something to me?” I reply. After two weeks’ worth of ‘wolves’ hunting me, I’m not exactly receptive.

“My father bought your mother’s estate” he says like that explains everything.

I stare at him for a moment, and then approach him, and offer my hand.

Instead of shaking it, he kisses it… another wolf.

“Forgive me, Sir… Since the paper ran its story about me, I’ve had no end of ‘wolves’ hunting me for my fortune,” I explain.

“Are you sure it isn’t your dark blue eyes, dark hair and figure they’re after?” he says with a smile and a wink.

Is this some kind of joke?

This guy is a smooth one… And so I decide to play his game.

I move back and sit.

“Only wealthy one’s such as yourself.” I candidly reply.

“Touché,” he responds, bowing his head a bit.

“Well… Listen…” he says as he put his hat back on, “I’m in town for a couple days, and I thought I might take you out to dinner while I’m here,”

“Alright… When?”  I respond, surprising him.

*

I wined and dined with Rex Taylor, son to the millionaire Texas rancher, for a few days.

It was alright…It was okay.

But he quickly bored, and irritated me.

He was quite full of himself, after all… and he spent half of our time together hitting on the poor unsuspecting waitresses.

But this may have just been his way to attempt to make me jealous.

But I’d have to actually have cared to be jealous…

Soon Mr. Rex Taylor, and his ‘charming’ hat, and mustache, would head back to his home in Texas… Or was it Montana?

Defeated by a girl… That he never stood a chance to get.

And chances are, I’d never see him again…

Men…

**************************************************

THE CHRONICLES OF MADY;

BOOK 1 – ‘I Died Once’ Novella Available @ Amazon HERE

BOOK 2 – ‘Mady’s Storm’ Novella Available @ Amazon HERE

‘Mady’s Storm’ (Novella) Chapters 5 & 6

Posted in Fiction, I Died Once, Mady's Storm, Novella, Self Publishing, Story, The Written Word, Writer, Writing on February 17, 2020 by darkjade68

mady-cover2

My Novella ‘Mady’s Storm’ Continued

Mady’s Storm

A Novella

by James Mahoney (DarkJade)

Chapters 1 & 2

Chapters 3 & 4

CHAPTER FIVE

Leaving Virginia

 

Rabia and I left after the short visit, and settled into a hotel near the train station.

The next morning, I interviewed three men that had been recommended to me by a local agency that found men such as I required. ‘Protectors’, or what some called ‘bodyguards’.

These interviews went on for several days, one, two, even three men a day. But to no avail.

To be honest with you, the whole thing felt strange.

So I gave up, and prepared to head back to New York, which seems the place to be if one needed to be in America.

But not before running into Randy McCormick…A Newsman from New York.

Apparently, he was assigned to me because of my financial status…

I guess these kinds of things aren’t kept private in America.

And he’d followed me from New York, to here in Virginia.

Kicking back and watching my doings….

A creepy thing, a thing that definitely justifies me wanting to have some sort of protection at my side.

“Mrs. Caroline Monroe?” he says to me, as Rabia and I sit waiting for our train to the airport.

I do not react, nor respond.

“It’s Mady,” Rabia suddenly says, who seems as irritated as I am.

“Daughter of Scarlett Horris?” McCormick continues to question.

“And Sam Monroe… Yes,” I finally reply, looking off into the distance, hoping that with sheer will I can manifest our train to be quicker.

“Right,” he says, as he shuffles through his notes, “Part owner of the Monroe Diamond Mine in Africa, right?” he adds.

“What is it you require of me, Sir?” I ask curtly.

“Well… I was wondering if I might ask you a few questions,” he says.

If not now, then someday I would have to answer questions in regards to my past… So I decide now is as good a time as any.

“Continue,” I reply.

And so he does.

*

A few minutes later he had asked questions about my Stepfather who mysteriously disappeared in Africa eight plus years ago,

about my mother’s body that had at last been recovered from the lake she was put in,

and about my father… Surprisingly, these were the questions that bothered me most.

Now, I simply ignore him, even as he asks more and more questions.

Funny… I never did consider how the newspapers would come into play with my coming to America.

Or rather that they would at all.

An oversight that my father would surely have warned me about, if he was still alive.

Then again, he probably assumed I’d spend the rest of my days in Africa.

But no, he was the reason I went there…

And he is the reason I stayed and lived there.

I love Africa. But without him, the sun would not share its light…

And the majestic landscapes would merely serve as a reminder of what I had lost…

“Is that all?” I ask the newsman, standing as the train approaches.

“Uh… Yes… What’s next for you now, if I may be so bold?” he asks as I board the train with Rabia.

“If I knew… I’m not sure that I would tell you, Mr. McCormick…” I reply.

He laughs slightly as he slides his pencil behind his ear.

“Good day to you, Sir,” I say in parting. 

 

CHAPTER SIX

Memory

 

Mady and her father sit by the living room fireplace in his plantation home.

“Mady…” he says as he looks deep into the firelight.

“Yes, Father?” Mady replies from the chair across from him, looking up from her book.

“If anything should ever happen to me… Or…” with this he looks at her.

“Father… Nothing shall ever happen to you,” she replies.

“But if it does,” he continues.

“I will survive,” she responds confidently.

“Are you sure?” he adds.

“Yes father…” with this Mady rises from her chair, kneels down by him, and takes his hand

“You have shown me love. You have shown me beauty in its rawest form. You have taught me inner peace… something I never thought I’d ever have,” Mady explains.

“But Mady…” he replies.

“Father… I will survive… I will continue forward.”

I shall find a way…

 

I must find a way.

**************************************************

THE CHRONICLES OF MADY;

BOOK 1 – ‘I Died Once’ Novella Available @ Amazon HERE

BOOK 2 – ‘Mady’s Storm’ Novella Available @ Amazon HERE

‘Mady’s Storm’ (Novella) Chapters 3 & 4

Posted in Fiction, Mady's Storm, Novella, Self Publishing, Short Story, Story, Writer, Writing on February 15, 2020 by darkjade68

mady-cover2

My Novella ‘Mady’s Storm’ Continued

Mady’s Storm

A Novella

by James Mahoney (DarkJade)

Chapters 1 & 2

CHAPTER THREE

New York City

 

The New York Streets are crazy, it’s like some epidemic has been let loose. Every man seems to be in a long coat, and the women walk in high heels with fancy hats.

Though I lived in America for most of my life, I am quite desensitized to the anxious energy that emanates from everything here…The people, the cars…and even the tall buildings.

Perhaps it is because American’s love money…

My mother’s father was an industrialist… Or so I had always heard, and had left her a great deal of money…which was passed to me. It occurs to me infrequently how rich I actually am. Living in Africa, it was never about that. I guess I’m pretty lucky in that way…

In Africa, I favored myself a strong, young woman…Independent, Self-reliant. Hell, even fairly smart…

But here in America…

I am none of those things.

Here…I am only a girl with a lot of money

*

I retrieved access to the funds from my share of the estate, but that was the extent of progress I made. I spent the better part of the first few weeks in New York City crumpled on the floor crying in the dark.

I wondered if Rabia could hear me in the next room…

I wondered…But I didn’t care.

I had lost my father…My only parent… My best friend.

And when I finally emerged from the darkness, from the prison cell that this New York City apartment in the sky had become…

I made it as far out as a local, ‘high end’ pub, a place known as ‘The Clockwork Tavern’.

Somewhere even a ‘Lady’ could get away with drinking away her woes.

I begin to wonder what poor old Rabia thinks of all this as he stands near the entrance of the pub, watching me drink the night away. I watch half-drunk as the American’s harass him as they come and go.

I need to hire an American man to take his place…I need to set him free, back to Africa where he belongs.

But where do I belong?

That answer would have to wait.

My mind drifts back to my childhood, and that unforgiving night when I had lost my mother… and almost my life. My presence returning back into the depressed girl I had once been…

I had come so far from those days…

But there was no address that I could write to this time…

No…

This time… I am truly alone.

I swore I’d never return to my mother’s estate in Virgina, but somehow in the middle of the night, drunk…

That’s where I find my mind wandering to.

Unfinished business?

I don’t know.

The truth is the moment I turned 18, my father and I had put it up for sale.

It sold for a pretty penny, and the money was poured into my account here in America… Along with the rest of the estate funds.

Money from my Mother in America… And Money from my Father from Africa…

Somehow it felt like the more money I had…

The lonelier I was.

Like each fortune was some sort of emotional payoff to my soul.

My soul, which has somehow voyaged back into the darkness I once knew.

The drink would help…

But I suppose I need to return to my mother’s estate in Virginia…My childhood home, and attempt to dispel these demons that have seemed to emerge.

So Rabia and I will leave New York for the moment and head to Virginia.

And perhaps this trip, I think while taking a drink, with help with my increasing dependence on liquor…

 

CHAPTER FOUR

Virginia

 

When we got there, my entire body froze, as if I had become petrified in my own nightmare…

I transformed back into that little girl hiding for her life, fleeing from the murderer in the house…

With Rabia understanding, he gently pulls me out of the backseat to stand shakily against the car.

I regain my footing, and my focus clears enough to keep my mind in the present, though my breath is still slightly quick.

I know almost nothing about the man that had purchased my mother’s estate…

Only that he is a Rancher from Texas, or was it Montana, and this was to be his second or third home.

Rabia and I walk around the outside of the estate, and into the backyard area.

My mother’s roses are gone, I observe, and in their place are daisies and daffodils…

They look lovely, much lighter… But somehow, I admit, I miss my mother’s roses.

And maybe enough time passed to admit, I miss my mother too…

The pool that I had found myself in many years ago is covered, as it is too cold to swim…

I soberly smile as I think how there would be no late night swimming for me this time…

My father had the courage of a Lion, and left his courage with me.

And I am going to do my best to take great care of it.

“May I help you, Miss?” speaks a deep, but somehow familiar voice.

When I turn around, I cannot believe what I see.

It is little Tommy Wilkenson, the poor boy I used to give my supper to, but all grown up.

“Mady?” he exclaims.

He reaches out to shake my hand, and without thinking I wrap my arms tightly around him

He must think I’m mad, or worse, just plain desperate.

And now that I think of it, I probably am…desperate for love that is, or at least relieved to see a friendly, familiar face.

“It’s so good to see you, Tommy… You have no idea,” I tell him with the deepest kind of appreciation.

“You too, Mady,” he says quietly as he slowly pulls away. “I heard about your father…” His face turns grim as he continues “I’m sorry.”

I simply nod bleakly.

He smiles then, “Would you like to come in and catch up?”

*

Tommy was married to a very nice blonde girl named Rosemary.

He had become the landscaper for the estate, and he and his wife had taken some of the money I sent to him, and purchased a small home some miles back in the outskirts of all the expensive homes.

It had been good to see Tommy.

But, being he was a married man…

And I was a ‘wealthy, dark haired minx’, or so America had labeled me, it wasn’t likely that we’d stay in touch.

But it had still been good to see him.

My how things change. In his case, for the better.

In my case…Well, I’m just not sure.

All I know is that I had changed too.

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‘I Died Once’ Novella Available @ Amazon HERE

‘Mady’s Storm’ Novella Available @ Amazon HERE

‘Mady’s Storm’ (Novella) Chapters 1 & 2

Posted in Fiction, I Died Once, Mady's Storm, Novella, Self Publishing, Short Story, Story, Writer, Writing on February 10, 2020 by darkjade68

mady-cover2

The last couple weeks, I’ve been posting the whole of my First Novella, ‘I Died Once’ (You can find the Chapter Links below), but for the first time I’ve decided to post the Followup Novella ‘Mady’s Storm’ right behind it… Enjoy Chapters 1 & 2 of ‘Mady’s Storm’ below the ‘I Died Once’ Links

I DIED ONCE

by James Mahoney (DarkJade)

Prolog + Chapters 1 & 2

Chapters 3 & 4

Chapter 5 & 6

Chapters 7 & 8

Chapters 9 & 10

The Conclusion

Mady’s Storm

A Novella

by James Mahoney (DarkJade)

Prologue

Outside her father’s plantation, the African sky was raining relentlessly.

The lightning cracked loudly, whipping Mady awake, her sweat cold from the chill of the storm.

Her pure, black hair fanned as her eyes of deep blue hurriedly locked onto the old, wooden clock heavily sitting on her mantle.

In the strain of the blackness, only relieved by flashes of lightning, she was somehow able to see the late hour.

Breathing deeply, Mady fluidly moved off the bed, her slim, 23 year old body fit loosely in her white nightgown went all the way down to her ankles.

Walking toward the living room her mind wandered to thoughts of her father.  

Her father…

“He just hasn’t been himself lately, no, he seems tired, and… weak.”

Mady did her best to not think of it.

She and her father had spent the last eight years together, and became quite close, remarkably close, surprisingly.

She was able to light an oil lamp, as she made her way to the living room.

Her father sat in his chair before a great fire, as he often did at night.

“She’s a beaut,” spoke her father sensing Mady’s approach from behind.

“The storm? She sure is,” Mady replied, as she grabbed the homemade, red and blue checkered blanket from a chair next to his.

She sat and threw it over her legs.

Sam’s face turned toward her, his tired eyes slowly meeting her deep blue ones which were welled up with tears.

“There’s something I need to tell you Mady…” he spoke. “I’ve been putting it off… But I can’t put it off any longer,” he continued as he reached over and took one of her hands into his own.

“Don’t.” She pulled her hand away.

“Mady…”

“Don’t tell me.” She said firmly

He stared at his daughter, at what a strong woman she had become. How the years seemed to pass so quickly… 

He then looked at the fire once more.

“Alright…” he spoke softly.

But before he knew it, she had tossed the blanket on the floor, and kneeling before him, rested her head heavily on his lap as she cried.

Sam could do nothing but stroke her thick dark hair, reliving the memories of the previous eight years in his mind.

“There’s never enough time Mady… Never.”

 

CHAPTER ONE

Leaving Africa

 

My father died on a Tuesday in December.

He was strong, so strong that I thought he’d even outlast me…

But he is gone, and I am alone.

How many times did he say that there was something he needed to talk to me about? …but then again, how many times did I tell him that I didn’t want to know?

Sam William Monroe…

Part of his ashes will fall from his plane above the African Landscapes he loved, part of him will be left within his plantation home, and part of him will be with me…until I come across somewhere beautiful enough.

He always said “Just feed me to the lions when I’m gone”.

But in truth, he was a lion…A lion among men…

How I will miss flying with him.

Even now the African clouds seem to reach and pull upon my sleeves, the very clouds my father and I had flown across in his plane.

But, no, the flying today will not be full of joy.

It will be a plane taking me back to the greyness that I left when I was just fifteen, to America…

Yes, the train ride to the airport is long, but the plane ride to America will be so much longer.

After that… I’m not sure what I’ll do…

I gaze upon the land, and the world I’d come to love…it is as if it is beckoning me to stay, but I cannot.

For Africa without my father… is not my home.

 

CHAPTER TWO

To America

 

I sit back in my seat on the plane as it heads for New York City.

Looking out the window, I fall into a trance. My breathing changes, and I seem to be waiting for something to happen.

Waiting to wake up, or waiting for the plane to fall from the sky… or, perhaps, waiting for my father’s voice to return.

Instead there is only silence.

Shaking myself into reality, I turn to look at the African man sitting next to me.

His name is Rabia, it means ‘Spring’ in African, but he doesn’t resemble it in the least. Dark and brooding, robotic almost… he is meant to protect me. My ‘Protector’…I laugh inwardly as it fits him a hundred times than his name does.

My father always said “Surround yourself with at least one person that’s watching your back”, and that’s exactly what I shall do… And for now… That’s Rabia.

He watched over my father for most of his life, and though his face is stern, I know he must be feeling the weight of grief, perhaps even more than I.

I asked him to stay in Africa, but he refused. I know how he will be looked upon in America… as something unwanted…something less.

So, no… I shall not keep him with me long, only for a short time while I acquire, and slowly learn to trust another to watch my back.

I again look out the window, down at the Atlantic Ocean.

I left enough money in the plantation account to keep it running as it is for another year.

After that I’ll probably sell it like I did my mother’s estate.

As for my father’s share of the diamond mine…

Well… I’ll likely sell that too.

I decide it best to retrieve my money from the selling of the estate…I guess that’s where I’ll start once I reach America.

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‘I Died Once’ Novella Available @ Amazon HERE

‘Mady’s Storm’ Novella Available @ Amazon HERE