Wishing everyone a wonderful weekend!
The Windows of my Soul…
The first time it happened, I thought my brain had decided to quit, breakdown or crash, whatever it is brains do when they die. One minute I was perfectly fine, reading something on the computer screen and then it happened.
My brain lurched. That is the best way I can describe what it felt like. It was as if the contents of my head twisted around in one quick movement. Instantly, I felt sick and nauseous, and when I tried to stand, the room revolved violently, and I had to sit down again.
I was unable to walk or work. I wasn’t actually sick, but it felt as though I would be at any minute. The following morning, I opened my eyes, expecting the worst, only to discover whatever it was had gone. It didn’t happen again for what seemed like a long time, but I had to endure these “dizzy days” every couple of months, and although I coped with it, I secretly worried what it could mean.
Last year these ‘spells’ have begun to get closer together and last a little bit longer than just one day. This was roughly when the optician discovered I had cataracts growing in my eyes. They were very small and didn’t need to be removed yet. I was assured they were not the cause of my symptoms and prescribed a special coating for my glasses to combat the glare from the computer screen.
Fast forward to this year and the dizzy spells. They last for a bit longer now, and another visit to the opticians confirmed that the cataracts are still small and unlikely to be causing me trouble. Again, I am not convinced. Something must be causing all my dizziness.
I found respite by wearing sunglasses over my glasses, at the computer as well as out of doors, and may invest in new tinted glasses to avoid wearing two pairs all the time. I have been reluctant to bother my doctor again, as he didn’t have a clue last time I went. I already suspect it is probably yet another of those mysterious ailments that must be endured as part of growing old. I am learning to limit my screen time and I cannot wear my glasses all day either.
The thought of losing my sight, or worse, fills me with equal amounts of fear and dread. I think of all the things I love to do and might not be able to manage anymore, and don’t know how I will cope if the worst happens. Quite apart from my writing and hobbies, there are so many other things I love to do. It breaks my heart to even consider life without them all.
For a start, what would I do all day…?
Hey, everyone. I’m delighted to welcome Mae Clair to my site today. Mae is not only a talented author but a good friend. She’s also a contributor at Story Empire. Mae is on my auto-buy list, so you can bet I’m over the moon excited about her latest release.
Please give her a warm welcome.
Hi, Joan. Thanks for hosting me today and allowing me to share my newest release with your readers. Things Old and Forgotten is a collection of short fiction that includes stories in several genres—magical realism, fantasy, speculative, even two that touch on mild horror.
The first story, A Once and Future Life, plays off the legend of King Arthur. I was twelve when I read T. H. White’s A Once and Future King, and it’s stuck with me ever since. I still have my original battered paperback, along with numerous books on Arthur…
View original post 516 more words
A relatable story full of suspense, with psychological twists and turns in every chapter.
Dawn Foster lost her 18-year-old son, Ben following a tragic accident and a few months afterwards her husband Gary left her. Then, quite by chance, Dawn discovers her son’s ‘lucky stone’ concealed in the pocket of his favourite jacket. She carries the treasured stone with her everywhere, even keeping it under her pillow at night.
The day after the discovery, Dawn’s life suddenly begins to take a series of inexplicable turns that leave her suspecting she has some form of stress-induced amnesia. But soon she is forced to face an even more frightening explanation that leaves her doubting more than just her memory. With her son dead, her husband gone and life quite literally out of control, how will Dawn ever be happy again?
Meet the Author Sian Turner
I am a UK author based in East Sussex and am a long-standing member of Shorelink Writers. My first two novels were historical fiction stories, but I now write magical realism (contemporary novels with a paranormal/supernatural element).
If you wish to receive updates from me, including freebies (usually a FREE ebook), information about future releases and news, please sign up to my mailing list by visiting my website:
I’m happy to hear from you on social media too:
To anyone who has bought one of my books, a resounding THANK YOU. Reviews are tough to get though, and can make or break a book, so a huge double thank you if you have also reviewed any of them.
Splitting Infinities is a remarkable story.
An extremely clever and complicated plot that will tie your brain in knots.
The attention to detail is quite amazing.
I loved the way Dawn had to start keeping a journal to understand all the confusing changes in her life.
Not that it helped much, for as fast as she thought she understood what was happening and why, it all changed again.
How I managed to cope with such a complex story arc, I don’t know, but I enjoyed trying to figure it all out all the twists and turns!
Amazon Link (as the usual way doesn’t appear to be working!)
The sun is slipping down the horizon the sunset threatens to disappear Like a rusty penny An echelon of wild geese gather above so I follow grey wings into the storm. My arms are branches and you are my nourishment cut me down to a boat. My spine a sturdy keel , my hair unfurled sails. A distant lighthouse my only lamp for you hold the stars in your hand. If red sails are cast into a cleft too deep for me to cross I was trying to get to you.
Most of us know that relaxing and letting go are the key to feeling happier and more present. What is more challenging is knowing how to enter this state at will. As I pondered on the letting go I began to realise how subtle and divine an act it is.
You cannot make yourself let go
Can’t force into release
There is no effort in the flow
Can’t orchestrate deep peace
There is no action in ‘allow’
However hard you try
There’ll be no sweat upon your brow
Yet with relief you’ll sigh
For yielding is a subtle shift
It starts with saying yes
To all those big old feeling gifts
That show up in the mess
The moment that your soul accepts
what’s vulnerable and tender
Is powerfully effortless
Inhabit your surrender