Millie The Duck

My first attempt at a children's story.

Millie the Duck Learns to Swim
Children’s Story
Jennifer Demeter 2009

Millie the duck sat on the bank of the pond, looking quite sad.
“What’s wrong, Millie?” Otto the otter said, scampering up the bank toward her.
“I’m quite sad, Otto. Everyone looks like they’re having such fun in the water. Everyone but me.”
“Well come on then, Millie!” Otto said, giving her a large smile. “We’d love to have you join us!”
Millie shook her head, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I can’t, Otto. I’m afraid.
“What are you afraid of, Millie? All your friends are out there! Beaver, Frog and Turtle too!”
“I don’t know how to swim.” Millie whispered.
“That’s silly. I thought all ducks knew how to swim.” Otto said, scratching his head in wonder.
“Not this duck.” Millie said sadly.
“Well, that’s not a problem!” Otto said brightly. “I’ll teach you to swim!”
Millie looked up at her friend, a smile coming to her face. “You will?”
“Of course I will! Let’s go!”
So Otto and Millie made their way to the shallow end of the pond. Otto jumped into the water easily, but Millie hung back.
“Come on, Millie! The first thing you have to do is get your feet wet!”
So Millie walked slowly into the water. But when it hit her ankles, she stopped.
“It’s cold, Otto!” She cried, shaking from head to foot.
“It will get better! Come in, you can do it!”
And with Otto cheering her on, Mille stepped further into the water, until soon the water lapped at her belly. And then she was floating.
“Otto! I’m doing it!” Millie cried, flapping her wings in joy.
“You’re floating, Millie! Now you have to kick your feet.” Otto moved his hands in a front and back motion, encouraging Millie to do the same.
And before Millie knew it, she was swimming. She swam around the shallow end, then she grew braver and swam to the middle of the pond. All her friends yelled and called out in joy as Millie finally joined them in their fun.
After hours of playing in the pond, Millie and her friends sat on the bank sharing a picnic lunch of carrots, grapes, crackers and peanut butter and jelly.
“Thank you, Otto. I never knew how much fun it was to swim.”
“And now you do. Remember Millie; don’t be afraid to try something new.”
Millie smiled and thought of what she would try tomorrow.

A song for my baby

I wrote this long before I became pregnant. I'd always wanted to write something for my children. And this is what came out. I sing this to my daughter every night before I put her to bed. I truly hope she will remember this song when she grows up.

Close your eyes now, little one

It’s time for you to sleep.

Have no fear, cause mommies here

To chase the monsters from the deep

Shadows of your room

Close your eyes now, little one

Dream a dream for me

Of castles in the air

Of life without a care

Of being so free

Close your eyes now, little one

It’s time for you to sleep.

Have no fear, cause mommies here

And I always will be

©Jennifer Demeter 2000

Maddie Dances to Katy Perry

We don't dance enough.
When we're young, we dance, sing, scream at the top of our lungs and spin in circles until we fall down to watch the world dance before our eyes. Dancing is an expression of spirit.
So why do we stop dancing when we reach a certain age?
Why is it that once we're "adults" we can no longer spin in circles until our stomachs pitch? Why can we no longer scream at the top of our lungs, or roll in the grass?

Sometime I miss grass stains. I think we get too preoccupied with what's "right" and "proper" as adults we forget to have fun.

God has blessed me with this wonderful ray of sunshine. She has the ability to make me remember its okay to have a funny face contest, and it's alright to get muddy and laugh at spilt milk.
It's OKAY to have FUN.

So next time the world seems too big, and life seems to heavy a weight to bear...Blow some bubbles, sit on a swing and try to reach the sky. Count the clouds. Laugh until your sides hurt.

Live, you only get one chance at it.

Get Posting Contest Winner Story

Get Posting Contest Story
A custom made story for Ashley
By Jennifer Demeter

Ashley walked across the parking lot, the gravel crunching beneath her heels. The night breeze chilled her legs but she didn't care. Tonight she was on a mission, and that mission was to look H-O-T.
Two men sat on the sorry excuse the bar called a porch, reeking of alcohol and smoke. Their eyes glimmered with pitiful hope as she approached them.
"Hey, hey pretty lady." One slurred, stumbling toward her. "Nice outfit you're almost wearing." The two men cackled at the jibe, the speaker almost unbalancing himself in the process.
"Not in a million years." Ashley scoffed, shooting him a cold glare as her heels clicked on the wooden steps. Her black skirt rose an inch higher with the action, offering a glimpse of creamy thigh. Her blood red top was like a second skin, clinging to her breasts as it pushed them higher for the entire world to see. Gold and black bangles hugged her wrists and a small silver chain adorned her waist. Her brown hair was piled high on her head, the bar lights teasing out the red tints. Blood red lipstick and smoky eye shadow gave her a Fuck Me Now appearance.
“Later, boys.” Her voice was husky as she wiggled her fingers at them, pulling the door open and sashaying inside. Their moans of regret were the last thing she heard as the door closed behind her and she was consumed by music and smoke. Sweat, beer and sex road the air, enticing her. Her body trembled in anticipation.
Whistles and cat calls followed her to the bar, her lips curving in a satisfied smile.
“What’ll it be for you ma’am?” The bartender was young, in his early twenties and prime for the picking. He had bright blue eyes, close cropped brown hair, and a body worth drooling over.
“I would love a Razzatini, please.” Ashley leaned forward, offering him a pleasing view of her cleavage.
“Coming right up.” The bartender grinned, his eyes locked on her breasts. Her pulse hummed under his scrutiny, but no matter how attractive she found him, he was just too clean cut to feed her hunger. Tonight she wanted someone dark, someone dangerous.
Taking her drink she turned around, leaning her back against the bar as she surveyed the pickings. There were very few women here, and plenty of fine male specimens. And many of them looked as though they would love to take her for a ride. Her lips curved as she basked in their hungry stares. Oh, it felt so good to be wanted.
Scanning the room once more, about to give up in favor of the next bar, she saw him. Sitting alone in the back corner almost lost to the shadows, sipping from a long neck bottle, his eyes were on her. Her body quaked with the intensity of his gaze.
He quite simply took her breath away. His hair was long, shoulder length, and the blue-black of midnight. His broad shoulders were clad in black leather, his jeans snug on long outstretched legs.
Blowing out a breath, Ashley set down her drink and slipped off the stool. Her heart slammed in her chest as she moved toward him. His eyes never left hers. She felt an odd pull toward this man, as if he’d been waiting only for her. She smiled invitingly, cocking one hip to the side and flashing an indecent amount of thigh.
“You were staring.”
“You were enjoying it.” His voice was smooth, bringing to mind hot summer nights and cool black satin sheets. Her body fairly quivered in response. This man was raw power in denim.
“Come here often?” She inquired, leaning forward on a nearby chair, her breasts all but spilling from her top.
The man chuckled, running his fingers slowly up and down the neck of the bottle. The movement was intimate, seductive and somehow natural. Ashley was sure she’d never been so envious of an object in her life. But she was sure she would beg, and beg hard, to have his fingers on her in that manner.
“Not often enough. I’ve never seen you before.”
“Nor have I.” She smiled, slipping into the chair and leaning forward, trailing her fingers up his bottle. “What do you say we find somewhere we can talk?”
He smiled, sending her pulse into overdrive. Oh god, this man was good. He cut his eyes at her, a flashing brilliant green.
“You don’t even know my name.” His voice held promise, and if she wasn’t mistaken, restraint. He wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him.
“Lothario, Don Juan, Casanova. Does it really matter?”
He chuckled, leaning closer. His cologne wafted over her, taking her to a deep dark forest with every breath. “I suppose not. Where did you have in mind to…Talk?”
Ashley giggled and stood, walking backwards, assuring he followed her. Her body hummed with anticipation as they left the bar. She wasn’t sure what she was doing. She’d never done anything like this before. The cool night air attacked her over heated skin. The warring sensations felt so good.
And then his hands were on her, and her back was pressed into the rough wood of the bar walls. She moaned as his touch slide over her body, assaulting her senses. She couldn’t breathe. His mouth was everywhere, her cheeks, her lips, nipping at her neck. His strong hands gripped her thigh, pulling it up and over his hip, pressing his erection into her.
She cried out in pleasure at the feel of him pressed to her. Her hands shot under his tight black shirt, feeling the hard plains of his chest. Her thumbs brushed his nipples, eliciting a rumbling groan. She smiled in triumph as his mouth claimed hers once more.
Excitement slammed through her as he ripped her panties from her, tossing them carelessly away. His fingers were rough and marvelous as they found her, caressing her, making her scream in pleasure. She tore at his shirt, yanking it from his head. Her fingers trembled as she sought out his zipper, her body quaking with pleasure as his fingers moved in her.
“Oh God,” She gasped, feeling her body tighten, her fingers digging into his shoulders. She screamed in pleasure as she climaxed, her body shaking and shuddering with the force of it.
And then he was in her, his hard length stretching her, opening her for him. He yanked her up until she was wrapped around him. The rough wood bit into her back, but she couldn’t care. All thought fled her mind as he speared into her. She moaned long and loud at the feel of him in her, kissing him deeply, wanting more.
She whimpered, feeling her body tightening once more, knowing she wouldn’t last much longer.
“Please,” She begged, not entirely sure what she was begging for. Her eyes blurred from the intensity of her pleasure as his lips found her neck.
She climaxed once more, feeling something sharp brush against her neck. Her mind tried to wonder at it, but then he was coming, and it was glorious. Pain briefly flared at her neck, and she came again.
Then her world went black.

God's Window

God’s Window

Author J.E.D

Copyright 2007 by J.E.D as Common Law Literary Property.

God’s Window

A short story

Written by: J.E.D

God’s Window. That’s what my grandfather called it. That break in the clouds on an overcast day that allows a shaft of sunlight pour down on the world. He told me that few people were lucky enough to see into God’s Window, and that I was one of the lucky ones because on the day I was born, God looked out his window at me.

Smiling I remember his words. In two days I will be sixteen, and my grandfather will not be with me. Standing I straighten my shapeless black dress. Lifting the stiff, black velvet hat from its box, I place it on my ruthlessly tamed blond hair. My mother had yanked, tugged and beaten my hair into rebellious submission. It now lay down the length of my back in an elegant French braid. Lifting my head, I looked at my reflection. A somber young girl stood before me. I didn’t recognize her. Sad green eyes stared back at me. I closed them, my heart not wanting to see the sadness it felt.

I turned toward the door, taking slow steps, my new shoes shiny and painful. I extended my arm to open the door when my eyes fell upon her. Her name was Emmaleen. My grandfather had made her for me when I was five. Smiling I ran my finger down her smooth, worn cheek. I remembered sitting at his knee as he sanded down the wood, watching in childlike awe as he used tools unknown to shape my new friend. A tear slide down my cheek as I lifted her to my chest.

"Papa," The word caught in my throat, coming out in a harsh whisper. My knees buckled and I collapsed to the floor. Nothing would ever be the same. Childhood disillusionment had found me.

First Musing

It's early. And my muse is not fully awake. I scrub the grit from my eyes. Damn sleep. Why does sleep have to be so gritty?

The shower is wonderful. Hot water sluicing over my body. I can feel her stirring, my little muse. The warmth of the sun and the water call out to her. Her gentle voice fills my head as I step from the shower.

"Write, write, write." She chants, a siren song.

So, to satisfy my wonderful little muse, oh how I love thee, oh how I loathe thee, I have created this little blog. A small world for my musings, thoughts, ideas.

I hope anyone who reads this will enjoy it.