Angela Raines Writing & More

As I sat down at the base of the tree, I took a deep breath and prepared to hear what the tree had to say. I leaned back against the trunk and then I heard the trees voice in my head. “Since you reacted the way you did last time, I have decided to just tell you this story.” “They're your stories, I'm willing to hear them however you wish to share.” I heard the tree take a deep breath and then in a quiet voice started the story. “She always arrived from the East. When I first saw her she was so young. There was a spring in her step and a smile in her eyes. The tune she hummed was sad but fun. The sun created pearls in her hair which was the color of autumn leaves. Her curls bounced with each step.” As the tree spoke I could see a young girl, maybe three years old walking toward me. I knew it was what the tree was seeing and I silently thanked him for allowing a least part of what he saw come through to me. The trees voice continued. “The grass barely noticed her ...

"If you are ready I shall tell what I have seen and heard over the years.” the tree said. “I am ready.” I leaned back against the trunk and closed my eyes ready to hear what the tree had to say. The tree sighed and then I saw a woman in my mind. She was covered in armor with sword in hand. As I took this all in I heard her voice and the story of her dance with death. It had been a fierce three days of battle. The field was covered with corpses, their body parts strewn out over the field like the broken shards of pottery they resembled. I had managed to stay alive until this last day when victory was no longer ours. Now, it was time for my own dance with death. Were the old stories true? Did one Dance with Death to decide whether you would go or stay, where you would reside? I fervently hoped so as I drew my last labored breath. The first day of fighting we were victorious in every engagement. The young warriors were ecstatic. They celebrated, cheered and drank t...

The Story Tree by Angela Raines I found the story tree not by accident, but by being called to where it stood. I was driving through my favorite park. It was a warm sunny day. The car window was down to cut the heat coming from the sun. I had taken a new route through and was about to take the turn out of the park when I heard a crying coming from my left. I slowed and tried to focus on where the sound came from. Unable to pinpoint the location I pulled into a parking lot and got out of the car. I stood listening. A few minutes later the sound came again. This time I heard a “please help”. The sound came from the left. I started moving in that direction-thinking maybe someone had fallen and was hurt or stuck. The many trails through the park were always busy. Occasionally someone would wander from the path, but it had been a long time since a situation where someone's life was threatened. Of course there was always a chance. That was the reason why I was foll...

by Angela Raines “Beauty in a rose Fades as the sun rides lower. Time changes nothing.” As I read those words to my dear wife Sheila I hoped her favorite words would comfort her. Even as time and disease had ravaged her body, her mind and eyes held the beauty that had caught my attention so many years ago. Our granddaughter Alicia was standing close by. I know some of our friends who wonder about having one so young experience such things as her grandmothers upcoming demise. Since she had lost her parents when she was five, we felt that to understand how death was not always the end or bad, was a good thing. How do you explain to someone so young that to you their grand mother was the most wonderful, caring and beautiful person in the world? Yes, she was famous for her beauty. The world had clamored for more and more of her. Still she only had eyes for me and her family. Alicia might only remember her grandmother Sheila in the hospital. The hands that rested...

A short story by Angela Raines "How's the Little Parasite today?" Aunt Gertrude asked as she walked into the kitchen. I hated to be called a parasite. She constantly called me that. It was not my fault my parents got themselves killed. She took me in when no one else would. She never stopped telling me the story and making me feel less than a person. I was constantly hearing her say "You will do what I say. If it weren't for me you would be dead. You should be thankful instead of complaining about what little work I have you do." It was so bad that I heard those words in my sleep. Little Parasite, Little Parasite. My name was Charity. Why couldn't she just call me by my name? "Little Parasite, you better get this kitchen cleaned up. The floor is a mess." I looked at her and the next thing I knew she was swinging the birch switch again. "I told you not to look at me. I can't stand the site of you. Now get back to work." I dropped m...