Dearest Reader

Dearest Reader,

Whilst I am indeed euchred I felt that I owed it to you to pen this tale before I succumb to sleep’s waiting embrace.  I couldn’t cheat you out of it after all this time.

As you know, gentle reader, I have searched far and wide for the specimen we refer to as a perfect man.  A theory had begun to take shape that no such thing existed.  Well, I have to report to you that just last week I found one that may prove to be perfect at long last.  Granted, I only have a cluster of experiences to base this on, but he is looking promising.

Devoted reader, you must believe me when I say that he is intelligent and charming.  He is funny, sexy and kind.  I know, I know it sounds impossible but he is an animal lover and has told me great tales of his protection and support of women and children.  In fact he doesn’t even consider us as a “weaker sex”, he views women as equal to men, NAY, superior to men! 

I’m cognizant that it appears I’m being taken for a ride, so I shall keep my head on a swivel to ensure that I am not being snookered and in turn deceiving you dear reader. 

Did I mention that at the lightest touch from him my senses runaway from me? My pulse quickens and my cheeks flush red as a ripe strawberry.  My temperature rises when I feel his smoldering gaze upon me.  He is every good part of every man rolled into one, he is sex personified….ahem, pardon me gentle reader, as I contain myself. 

Anyway, as I was saying, it will (I assure you) be my pleasure to spend as much time as necessary with him to verify a valid conclusion. I’ll report back with my findings.  Don’t be alarmed if it takes a while.

Yours truly,



~Melanie Thomason












Euchred- utterly done in or at the end of one’s tether; exhausted.
Mythomane- a person with a strong or irresistible propensity for fantasizing, lying, or exaggerating.


Filed under Stories

she’s gone

the luscious sun shines

still, dark shadows paint

a picture of death’s arrival

sad music rose as a whisper sweet symphony

as we watched him whisk her away on the wind

~Melanie Thomason



Filed under Poetry

Once more

She was swimming

in a sea of languages

words crashed over her

in waves

yet she couldn’t understand them

she only spoke in one tongue

These expressions were foreign to her

they swirled around her deafeningly

She just wanted them to stop, to shut up

for more than just a fleeting moment

so that she could her herself think

This surging, swelling tide of Words

rolled over her, leaving her struggling

for breath

and to remain afloat

Just as she was sure she would be swept away

and pulled under

There was a lull

and she could hear his voice on the wind,

softly singing “You are My Sunshine”

and she found the strength

to swim back to shore

once more

~Melanie Thomason



Filed under Poetry


The scroll of the screen continued even after she closed her eyes.  It was exhausting looking for someone who apparently had no desire to be found.  Holly never wanted to see him again but find him she must.  She knew that it was the only way to put an end to this madness once and for all. 

Holly had left him and had every reason to be in hiding so why was he now missing?  She had lived in fear of him and was sure that he would find her…so imagine her surprise when it was the police who came knocking.  Now they were looking at her as a suspect, as if she had done something to him!

Apparently, Jake’s friends and family had painted a very different picture of the relationship, one where Jake was as pure as the driven snow and she was the vile and abusive one. Holly had to give it to him…he had found a new way to hurt her after all.  It was surreal hearing this version of events and Holly couldn’t believe they were ALL lying for him. 

Thank goodness for Detective Anne Sloan, she was the one person who seemed to believe Holly’s side of things.  Together the two women were searching for Jake among the living, while everyone else was looking for a body and proof of a murder.  Holly knew two things for sure: Jake was alive and she was not going to let him get away with this.


~Melanie Thomason



Filed under Stories

Sweet Dreams of Spring

she, as the flower

deep in a honeyed slumber-

awaits the sun’s love

~Melanie Thomason



Filed under haiku, Poetry


her head is overfull

with thoughts of him

she can feel them pushing out through her hair follicles

seeping out of her pores

thoughts she could once contain, contract

now expand and explode until they fill the room

thoughts of him push aside the bedside table

there is no space left for anything

or anyone



~Melanie Thomason



Filed under Poetry

Two stories

Two stories run parallel

Two stories in continuous loops

Two stories repeating

Two stories conflicting

Two stories, neither true exactly

Two stories that both contain fallacies and outright lies

Two stories speeding through my mind

Two stories colliding

Two stories become intertwined

Two stories both of them mine…

Who’s to say what the truth is anyway?

~Melanie Thomason



Filed under Poetry


Lillian maintained her sanity by reading and writing.  Granted reading the same shelf of books over and over again had gotten old a long time ago…so now she was reading them backwards to shake things up a bit and keep her mind sharp.  What else can one do when there is no tv, no computer, no phone, no radio and no one else around?

So she reads and she writes and writes and writes.  At first she wasted paper but now she compresses everything and uses all available space.

She writes from corner to corner, across margins, front and back.  After all she doesn’t have an unlimited supply of paper and who knows when or if more will be provided.  So Lillian has started writing smaller and smaller until her handwriting is as neat as a font and barely legible without a magnifying glass.  But no matter, who will ever read any of it anyway?

Yet she writes and in between her poetry, ramblings and stories she makes sure to write to him every day.  Maybe just maybe he will read them one day and know that she loved him, always.


~Melanie Thomason



Filed under Stories