Dreaming Big Publications- A Publisher Focusing On Mental Health

If you're going to dream you might as well be dreaming big!

Dreaming Big Publications is a small independent publisher which has a focus on publishing books on mental illness. They certainly don't limit themselves to this type but it is their preference. The owner of Dreaming Big, Kristi Morgan, has a bachelor's degree in psychology and a master's degree in social work. She is also a very nice person and good to work with!

Here is a link to their site.  http://www.dreamingbigpublications.com

Advantages of a small publisher-

• Far easy to get accepted. A traditional editor requires an agent and an agent desires a manuscript edited almost to perfection.
• Personal attention. I can text my publisher any time I want and will get a prompt response and work things out to my satisfaction.
• Relaxed atmosphere. Business is about making money. Small publishers want to make money but it isn't priority number one.
• Greater control over contest. I've heard stories where traditional publishers highly edit content.

Advantages of Dreaming Big-

• Dreaming Big gets a lot of reviews for their books. Some small publishing companies publish a lot of books hoping to make a little of a lot. Dreaming Big publishes less and invests time and effort to make every book successful.
• Dreaming Big has a large staff that can help you in many ways. For example for my book "Poet To The Poor" they created a video. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RiVmcJ_tBjg&t=35s
• Dreaming Big has a family feel where the authors support one another.
• Dreaming Big has an active website which attracts traffic, including an active blog.

So if you have a finished manuscript that is polished as best you can please send it to them, especially if it is in the field of mental health. You really have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Make sure that you follow all their instructions.

Reality Check-

If your ambition is to make lots of money Dreaming Big is not the route for you. If you are an unpublished author and you expect to publish a book to make a lot of money, I have to say that's an unrealistic goal. The best way to write a book and get it published to make money is to go through the traditional route. That is to write it and send it to an agent. In fact you cannot even directly approach a major publishing house without the aid of an agent. There is always the miraculous chance that you will be extraordinarily successful and make enough money to retire, and then again they sell lottery tickets as well. If you are not published by a major publisher your book won't get into book stores, which makes selling them all the more harder.

Dreaming Big is a good starting point. I hope one day to be a very successful author. I like to think with every poem published, with each book released, with each story I put out there, that I am building up a resume.

Check out Dreaming Big. Look for the call for stories and feel free to submit a poem or story for their blog. And please tell them John Kaniecki sent you their way.

Here are my three books from Dreaming Big Publications. 

Click here

Click here

Click here

https://blogs.psychcentral.com/fragments/2017/10/dreaming-big-a-focused-publisher/

The Great $100 Poetry Prize

The Great $100 Poetry Prize

No entry fee!

No entry fee!!

No entry fee!!!

Did I tell you, no entry fee!!!!

What is “The Great $100 Poetry Prize?” Well come inside the circus tent and try not to go too close to the lion cage.

Time to get serious!!!

I am a writer. I am both a poet and a writer of prose. I think I have talent. My poetry has appeared in about a 100 places. I have over a dozen books out. Yet to be a successful writer I have found that one needs to be an expert in marketing. This is an experiment in promotion. With this contest you can promote your poetry. 

I write poetry and stories for the love of it. I am presently a full time caregiver for my wife. As such I cannot work a full time conventional job. I have dedicated three hard years into my writing with nominal success. All that is missing are the people to buy my books. The only thing is how to get my message out. Together we can help each other.

I am motivated by the “Mary Ballard Poetry Chapbook Prize”. This wonderful contest for poetry chapbooks had no entry fee and a five hundred dollar first prize. As such I am running a contest for individual poems with no entry fee and a one hundred dollar first prize, payable by PayPal.

Please read the rules very, very carefully.

Send all poems to peacepoems@mail.com  On the subject of the email you must have your name, the word “CONTEST” and the title of your poem.

If you don’t get a response in a week please resend it.

The poems can be reprints as long as you have the rights to let me publish them. Outside of being posted on my blog “Turn A Page Or Two” I will not further utilize the poems.

The poems must be pasted in the body of the email. You can only enter one poem. 

You must follow my blog by email. That is you must enter your email on the slot on the "Turn A Page Or Two" page. This important as the winner will be announced in this manner. 

You must share this post on your Facebook page and on any other social media you participate in.

You must get 100 hits for your poem posted on "Turn A Page Or Two" by the contest end of June 1, 2018. There will be a special prize for the post that gets the most hits.

The deadline for submissions of poems is May1, 2018.

If will do my best to announce a winner on June 1, 2018.

If you have a book you’d like to promote you can send along ‘one’ link and I will include it with your poem. Also if you have an author page you can send along ‘one’ link to that as well.

I am the sole judge of the contest and all of my decisions are final.

If you want to get an idea of what kind of poetry I like then please Google “John Kaniecki poetry”.

Or preferably you can go to my Amazon page. There you can look at my books and read the beginnings for free. If you like what you read I would appreciate a purchase.

https://www.amazon.com/John-Kaniecki/e/B00NV8AU76

Otherwise please read this article.

 http://www.writersandauthors.info/2017/03/the-future-of-poetry.html

Please check out my authorpage.

https://johnkaniecki.weebly.com

Please check out my PsychCentral Blog.

https://blogs.psychcentral.com/fragments/

"Credible Lies" by Faleeha Hassan

Credible Lies

By Faleeha Hassan 

Oh, Faleeha

How brilliant is your future

I whisper in my ear

And pat my shoulder

Every morning

I open my day with a big lie

I tell myself

Faleeha

leave the news to the promoters of rumors

And the houses being bombed by skilled pilots

They will be rebuilt immediately afterward

Leave Iraqi women to be sold in the Sbaya Bazaar in Mosul

Mothers will give birth to other daughters nine months later

Don’t worry about the man who sells his life for a handful of coins under the sweltering sun

One day he will be able to get a Chinese umbrella  

Don’t worry about your niece whose face now being eaten by skin cancer

She will get through photoshop a wonderful picture for her profile on Facebook 

Why do you look so long at picture of your friend who is missing from Kuwait war?

He is lucky

He survived the darkness of grave

Oh, Faleeha

Leave the children of Baghdad to wake up to violent explosions

Music is no longer fit for their mornings

Write down the martyrs names on a piece of a paper and place it in your old coat and leave it in the closet

Or send it to the dry cleaners

I’m tired of counting the names of the martyrs and the war never ends

Faleeha

Don’t plan for the future

It is as a close as   a sniper’s bullet

Yes ,

I open my day with a big

Big

Big lie

But no lie can cover the scary truth 

Faleeha Hassan- Biography

She is a poet, teacher, editor, writer, playwriter born in Najaf, Iraq, in 1967, who now lives in the United States.

Faleeha is the first woman to wrote poetry for children in Iraq.

She received her master's degree in Arabic literature, and has now published 20 books. Her poems have been translated into English, Turkmen, Bosevih, Indian, French, Italian, German, Kurdish, Spain, Korean, Greek  and Albanian. Ms. Hassan has received many awards in Iraq andthroughout the Middle East for her poetry and short stories.

Faleeha Hassan has also had her poems and short stories published in a variety of American magazines such as: Philadelphia poets 22, Harbinger Asylum, Brooklyn Rail April2016, Screaming mamas, The Galway Review, Words Without Borders, TXTOBJX, Intranslation, SJ Magazine, Nondoc, Wordgathering , SCARLET LEAF REVIEW,  Courier-Post, I am not a Silent Poet, Taos Journal, Inner Child Press, Atlantic City Press, SJ Magazine, Intranslation Magazine, The Guardian, Words Without Borders, Courier-Post, Life and Legends,

Wordgathering, SCARLET LEAF REVIEW, Indiana Voice Journal, The Bees Are Dead, IWA, PoetrySoup, Poetry Adelaide Literary Magazine, Philly, The Fountain Magazine, DRYLAND, The Blue Mountain Review, Otoliths, Taos Journal of Poetry and Art, TXTOBJX, DODGING THE RAIN, Poetry Adelaide Literary Magazine, NonDocPhilly, DRYLAND, American Poetry Review, The Fountain Magazine, Uljana Wolf, Arcs, Tiferetand Ice Cream Poetry Anthology, Dryland Los Angeles underground art &writing Magazine,Opa Anthology of contemporary , BACOPA  Literary Review , Better than Starbucks Magazine, Tweymatikh ZQH Magazine,TUCK Magazine, Street Light Press andEmpty Mirror Magazine

"A Slice of Brilliant Color" by Sandy Olson Hill

A Slice of Brilliant Color

by  Sandy Olson Hill 

“Why don’t you call before you come?” she asks, as I stand outside her trailer. A rope serves as a door handle.

“I can’t” and I remind her, “you have no phone.”

It does not matter. This week she is a government agent and the pope is the anti-Christ.

“Where are your meds?” I ask.

“I don’t need them. I need a good lawyer”, she says in the song we sing in the game we live. She is going to sue the cable company and the radio stations. They are eating her head.

I have come to do my duty, drop off cigarettes and run as fast as I can from her illness. She was. She is my sister, whose limbs entwined, whose head nestled next to mine, whose hair entangled in dreams willed upward beyond the weight of expectancy into the realm of extraordinary.

I am leaving now. She needs what she has and has what she needs. She has forgotten I am here.

With the agility the absence of drugs has given her, she crosses the red clay to argue with a neighbor. The clay rises a dusky rose climbing. The warrior, broom in hand resplendent as a blade, glides a slice of brilliant color amidst a landscape of opaque indifference.

Biography

VSA Teaching Artist, Sandy Olson-Hill's poetry and prose recent publications include Anomaly Literary Journal, Tuck, Mandala, Red Paint Hill among other excellent zines..Awards include Academy of American poetry Prize, Open Doors Short Fiction Award. Nominations include: Million Writers Award and Best of the Net. Olson Hill is a Disabled Artist and an animal rescue volunteer and advocate.

"2/4 Dance Don’t Cut It" by Raymond Nat Turner

2/4 Dance Don’t Cut It

“Pay, or die…” the Death

Sentence Big Pharma-

Insurance Mob just issued 

a neighbor; and a Frankenfood 

experiment’s irritating my gut

The water smells swampy some days,

like bleach others; Tents grow in night

air like multi-colored mushrooms—crazy

cancer cells; Another school’s shuttered,

its teachers scattered in the wind, like

pencil sharpener shavings—Money for 

Bombs, not for books—Wow, the wars

went from seven to nine this week…

Here they come again with Fear:

‘Freedom of Choice,’ binary bad 

or worse options—hiking uphill

barefoot, in elephant excrement,

donkey dung to take one—with or

without Vaseline—from the1% again

I’m not sure I have another 8 yrs 

for translating, deciphering slogans:

“Regime…change you can believe in!”

“Yes, we can…and bottle Jim Jones Juice!”

as silly spoils of celebrity-worship;

Isn’t it time for Adult Politics? 

Isn’t it time to abandon Infantile

Exercises—searching for saviors

Every 2 to 4 yrs—and Nominate

Meeting More Than Four Corners;

Donate to Door-To-Door; Phone Bank 

for Boycott; Campaign for Consciousness; 

Support Shoe Leather-Street Heat running for

Raising roofs, planting food, curing cancer?

Raymond Nat Turner © 2018 All Rights Reserved

"Forgetting Alexander" by John Kaniecki

There is an ingrained arrogance of the European culture, especially as manifested by the United States. The United States claims that they are the greatest civilization that ever lived at any time. This boast is echoed by the repeated cries of “We’re number one.”

So what are we exactly number one in? Military spending is one, almost outspending the rest of the world combined. We have more people incarcerated than any other nation. We have great material wealth but people living in poverty and children going hungry. We have no universal health care.

In fairness there are some wonderful things about the United States. Its people is it greatest treasure, but then again another segment of the population is the world’s worst nightmare. We have the wonderful ideas of the founding fathers but they were plagiarized from the Native Americans. Still freedom of speech, freedom of press, freedom of religion are worthy of praise.

Unfortunately the United States does not live up to its ideals. Not only that, but the government simply does not try. What the United States and the world in general needs is a paradigm shift away from destructive greed. This lust for mammon is bleeding the blood of the poor in endless wars. Simultaneously it is destroying the environment. It is time to throw capitalism on the ash heap of history as we have done with monarchies.

People will rightly claim that capitalism is the best system to make money. But money is far from being my ‘god’. We need a shift from the carnal to the spiritual. We need a world where the value of a human being’s life is over the value of material things.  

Another myth is that ‘communism’ doesn’t work. There have been many communal societies, such as the Native Americans in both continents that had perfectly functioning societies. They had no prisons, no psychiatric hospitals, no poverty or hunger and almost no warfare. Don’t believe the lies you are told about the indigenous peoples of this land. The United States tries to hold these people in a negative light to in some way justify the genocide of noble civilizations. I can prove that the United States has flagrantly violated all the treaties with the Native Americans which are over 500. So if you want to believe the history of a proven liar, you are quite welcome to be a fool.

American ‘exceptionalism’ has taken the United States to new heights of arrogance. The United States believes that they have the right to military intervene anywhere in the world by some moral mandate. The United States should take a long, hard, look in the mirror and clean up its own mess. Leading by example is truly the way to go.

That brings us to the poem, “Forgetting Alexander”. History records that Alexander the Great conquered the known world. Most people conditioned by the American indoctrination won’t even recognize the absurdity of such a statement. Alexander may have led a great army which did such a feat. Clearly generals, soldiers, weapons makers, farmers, and so forth aided in the effort. To make a statement giving all of the credit to Alexander shows the psychology of the problem.

Therein lies in arrogance so deeply embedded in our culture. Like Christopher Columbus discovering a place already inhabited by a flourishing civilization. It is high time that we turn the world upside down. To place the common man as the hero and to correctly identify the criminal nature of those who exploit the world for financial gain. We can begin by “Forgetting Alexander”.

Forgetting Alexander

By John Kaniecki

I am picking daisies

Amongst tossed stones

Giant, great in size

Once before the legions marched

Many years ago

Conquering

Killing

Wholesale Slaughtering

Making widows

Creating orphans

Alexander

May you be forgotten

And all those

Who uphold your image

So this poem

Will be a quaint

Disturbing

Puzzle

Let the daises grow

For another's true love

As always I present my books for sale.

I have a new and exciting science fiction book called "Dark Matters"   It is presently on pre-sale for less than one dollar. It explores the darker side of humanity. Try it out and tell me what you think. 

"You Saw the Ocean (Dedicated to Derek Walcott)" by John Kaniecki

I remember exploring Grenada with my wife Sylvia. We came upon a book store. There I found a book by Derek Walcott. I was unfamiliar with him as an author but I associated him with the Caribbean. After reading his work I was greatly disappointed.

I am not saying Derek Walcott is not talented; he is to a certain measure. In Mathew 25, there is the parable of the talents. To every man talents are given. The reality is not in how much talent one receives but in what one does with their talents. Here are my poetic words for Mr. Walcott, a man whose absence of words speak louder than what he wrote.

You Saw the Ocean (Dedicated to Derek Walcott)

By John Kaniecki

You saw the ocean

Blue, green, white capped waves in motion

You learned stories of the educated

Sons of the slave masters you hated

I have walked barefoot upon Caribbean hot white sands

I have talked to the people of your islands

I know their names and have heard their story

We shared our Love with all our glory

Also I am intimate with your time

Where you choose free verse over rhyme

An endless war raged in futility

Your own kinsmen struggled to rise from humility

Crucifying every human emotion

You saw the ocean

Where was your cry for justice?

Passionate pleas persuading righteousness

Instead in an alabaster tower

You gazed out the window hour after hour

Life roared crashing on the beach loud as thunder

For you not to hear the oppressed, how I wonder?

A pretty, nice, sentimental notion

You saw the ocean

Poems like this can be found in my book “Poet To The Poor, Poems Of Hope For The Bottom One Percent”

  

"Time To Stand Up?" by John Kaniecki

Colin Kaepernick has sparked a debate which addresses the fundamentals of this country. It shows the difference between the ideal of ‘America’ and the practical ‘United States’.

America is the land of the dream. It has no state religion, allowing all to practice their faith as they see fit. All political parties are welcome. There is freedom of both speech and press. This is the America that does not exist and will never exist. Yet it is the America that many strive for and it is the America that many have sacrificed for, some giving all.

The United States however is a capitalistic country seeking world domination. It was baptized in the blood of the Native Americans as the natives were sacrificed in genocide. It was built on the whipped backs of Africans who were made slaves and immigrant labor. The United States sends its soldiers throughout the world to kill people and steal their resources. Domestically the United States is a wicked force of oppression its goal is maximizing profits. The United States worships the god of mammon enforced by lies.

The difference between America and the United States is the difference between the oppressed and the oppressor. The two cannot coexist as they are contrary to one another. So I ask you “Which side are you on?”

Time To Stand Up?

by John Kaniecki

When Pilgrim pride
Committed genocide

Did you stand?

When from across the sea

Merchants delt chattel slavery

Did you stand?

When immigrants of all ages

Were paid starvation wages

Did you stand?

When Jim Crow did reign

Inflicting bitter pain

Did you stand?

When they desecrated sacred Mother Earth

Violating indigenous worth

Did you stand?
When imperialism dominated

And atrocities were created

Did you stand?

When the police time and time again

Gun down black young men

Did you stand?

When the C.I.A. in sin

Flooded the hood with heroin

Did you stand?
When trillions were spent on war

And nothing to the poor

Did you stand?

Did you stand for every injustice and wrong?
Then why should I stand for your racist song? 

For more inspiring poetry please check out "Poet To The Poor, Poems Of Hope For The Bottom One Percent"

"The Slaughter Of Loreal Tsingine" by John Kaniecki

There is power in words, just like in any form of art. Talent is a gift from God and it is up to the artist to determine how he will use what he or she has been blessed with. Peter Seeger sings a song which asks “Which side are you on?”

The sides are somewhat ambiguous but it generally breaks down to a conflict between the oppressed and the oppressor. Unfortunately while the oppressor is very acutely aware of the struggle the oppressed are not. In fact lies, and manipulation used by the oppressor are more powerful than the bullets and bayonets of the soldiers.

So as a working class, revolutionary, activist, artist it is up to me to present the struggle of the oppressed. In this poem I look at the sad case of Loreal Tsingine. Loreal was a Navajo woman murdered by the police.

According to the police they were looking for a shoplifter from a convenience store. The description was very vague. Loreal apparently had a pair of scissors. The assassin from the state, one Officer Shipley, fired no less than five times!

Loreal had a history of mental illness while Officer Shipley in his short two and a half year career had a history of using force.

This sad episode is an illustration of an epidemic in this country. The police literally have a ‘license to kill’. Furthermore ‘justice’ is far from blind and far from fair. If the roles had been reversed and a police officer had unfortunately been gunned down mercilessly the time frame for trial would not have been prolonged. Rather it would have been done as quickly as possible.

I will not forget Loreal Tsingine, she is the face of the faceless. Her loss is a tragedy. She was a human being just like you and I and human beings shouldn’t be gunned down on the streets of America. It is as simple as that. Justice for Loreal Tsingine is justice for all of us.

Here are words in her memory.

The Slaughter Of Loreal Tsingine

by John Kaniecki 

Most citizens do not know

Or heard of the Navajo

All tribes slandered

Into the convenient box of 'Injun'

All peoples slandered

By this injustice done

Apparently somebody stole a case of beer

Losing money America's worst fear

A casual call to the police

From the convenience store

Agony, a declaration of war

Here's the description they release

Native American woman

Gray sweatpants, white top

Native American woman

This reckless anarchy must stop

For if we don't put them in their place

By mercy and God's grace

The Great Spirit will bless their race

And all these lands shall be returned

And the pale face spurned

So what went down?

A police man came

Loreal didn't want to be arrested

And who would?

The charges she contested

The nameless cop makes a claim

Scissors the woman drew

Upon the man in blue

One shot

Perhaps from surprise

Two shots

Well that'll stop her cries

But five shots

YES FIVE SHOTS I said

Until she was good and dead

So long my dear daughter

Like the buffalo they did slaughter

As their crimes amount

More then we can count

It is up for us, those still sane

To make sure

Our sister did not die in vain

And the authorities will not even release a name

To tell us who was to blame

Cowards with no shame

Cowboys and 'Injuns' their sadistic game

Loreal Tsingine you sought no fame

For those you loved

Whom I am thinking of

Life will never be the same

I pray their misery

And this poetry

Will ignite a mighty flame

So to the whole world will proclaim

We are sick of this racist war

NO MORE!!! 

Please investigate my book, "Poet To The Poor, Poems Of Hope For The Bottom One Percent".

"Six Haiku" By Denny E. Marshall

Six Haiku

By Denny E. Marshall

heavens 
exceptional
because you are there

the entire sky
color of one shade of blue
now a fresh canvas

full
coffee
cUP

seeking perfection 
forgetting a broken clock
is right twice a day

you have a new dog
lives in your automobile
you call him “Carpet”


invisible ink
is starting to show writing
must be running out

BioDenny E. Marshall had had art, poetry, and fiction published. One recent credit for poetry is Cabildo Quarterly Online. See more at http://www.dennymarshall.com

"She’ll Remember the Roses" by John Kaniecki

She’ll Remember the Roses

by John Kaniecki

He opened his black leather wallet to the familiar emptiness he was accustomed to. Not to be thwarted he thrust his hands into his blue jeans pockets. Finding them empty he turned them inside out. This extra effort only produced the discovery of a hole. Finally he reached inside his black jacket to find the feel of paper. “Hope it’s a twenty, hope it’s a twenty...” began a mantra. Upon examination it was a lowly Lincoln.

Gazing upon the gray haired woman behind the newspaper stand he smacked the green paper upon the counter. “A dozen, carnations please,” he said with enthusiasm.

“She’ll remember the roses,” spoke the ancient proprietor.

The suggestion struck James in an awkward manner. Tonight was a once in a life time event. He had met the girl, no, the exact woman of his dreams. But roses were twenty dollars a dozen while the asking price of the carnations was an affordable five. “A dozen carnations,” he repeated insistently.

Sir,” said the woman pleading, “She’ll remember the roses.”

James gave a quick glance backwards to see that Laura was still waiting. The lovely young lady caught the look and broadly smiled before giving a bashful look away. “I ain’t got all night lady,” the young man began angrily. Then in a hushed whisper, “For Christ’s sake I’m in love.”

The elderly woman wobbled to the carnation rack and pulled out a dozen carnations consisting of equal portions of pink, white and red; she liberally mixed in some white baby’s breath and green leaves. Hobbling back the woman hand them to the eager patron. Immediately he put them to his nose and sniffed a sniff of delight.

“She’ll remember the roses,” the saleslady tried a final time.

“And you’ll remember me as the jerk you tried to exhort as much money as you can get out of,” said the young man in a restrained rage

 Snatching the flowers with venom the young man turned away. James hid the flowers behind his back and took broad strides towards his black hair beauty. The moonlight shined majestic with stars twinkling and blinking approval. James was oblivious to the scenery focused solely on his true love. “Here Laura,” said the young Romeo fighting his shyness, “these are for you.” Like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat the young lover presented the dozen carnations.

From his vantage point in the woods the man could see and hear everything that was going on. His eyes watched intensely recording every last movement with intensity.

“Why they’re beautiful,” said Laura, her face an explosion of glee.

“Just like you,” said James awkwardly.

And then it happened that magical moment, she kissed him. It was the summation of all the love poems and all the philosophies of kindness rolled into one and then some. James needless to say was overwhelmed. The connection on the lips lingered as the young couple interlocked their hands. Retreating from the embrace their hands remained held as they began the long trek to Laura’s dormitory.

The man sat in the woods concealed watching every single step. He gazed on until the couple vanished in the horizon. He knew it was a night the young man would never forget. In fact the young man would be haunted by that moment every single day of his life. For you see the man in the woods was James.

It took forty years for James to manage the time travel adventure. Not only did he have to secure the exuberant funds but he had to satisfy certain authorities about his intentions. Time travel is serious business. Life is incurably infinite. Mathematical equations fail when you just factor in one variation in the time stream. Theoretically one slight change could dramatically alter realities in unthinkable ways.

James had fallen in love with Laura. She sealed it with a kiss. In fairy tales when a man kisses a woman in true love the bond is eternal. However James knew from the harsh reality of his history that life was no fantasy. Laura would walk out of his life crushing his heart forever.

The watch on James’ wrist buzzed indicating it was time to return from whence he came. He scanned the area making sure it was entirely vacant except for the old lady attending the news stand by the bus stop. Quickly James fled his place of concealment. With deliberate speed he hustled towards the field far away from the bus stop. However as he made his escape a sobbing voice of familiarity paralyzed him causing him to freeze in stillness.

Glancing up he gazed at the news stand full of magazines, candies, and other assorted goods for sale. The ancient lady lifted her head tears steaming down her eyes as she wept. James looked and despite long years he recognized the face. It was none other then Laura.

“Carnations are for one night, roses are for forever,” the ancient woman sobbed in a pitiful voice. “She’ll remember the carnations.”

James was overcome with the realization that he was not the only one to fall in love that night, nor was he the only one to travel in time searching for answers. Somehow life was vibrant and new, not roses but true to reality, carnations.

If you like this little story you will absolutely love, "I Should Have Been A Rock Star".