Wings of Light

Diabolical Deed

Previously on Wings of Light:

--- *** ---

"Don't worry about me, dear! I'm right there. You can see me in a whole view. In a whole view of tower. In a whole view of a landscape. In a whole view of paradise. You are going to be an uncle of my little precious right there. It will be due in November. You have still time to reflect on the overwhelming process how your sister becomes a mother for initial time. Somebody has to be also either the godmother or godfather of this little precious angel."

"I'm still wondering how did you persevere and you are still standing from the ground even after the severe affliction you've stepped its sticky surface and clamming your palms from the ounce of the tribulations, burdening your hands. I remember how when we're so young just two weeks before Christmas at least, you couldn't stop begging even clashing with me to get back your favourite stuffed animal. That was nothing compared to the hardships you're being through at the moment, Martha! That was just an infantile action to question your stubbornness to put it mildly. It's extremely apparent how persistent you're and you're about to fight for whatever you believe it's right for you and banish everything that weakens you and doesn't actually impacting its greatly fantastic influence to improve your character and your very own being."

--- *** ---

"You have to be Madeleine! It's good to see you at this moment of the day."

"Good evening, Father! It's also amazing to see you."

--- *** ---

"It won't be easy to make the journalists' cats to get their tongues at all. Trust me, they're ferocious wild animals that seek an ordinary person as a prey to fabricate anything about their families or nicknames about their notorious accident they have had a long time ago."

"But Mary Eunice passed away a long time ago and I don't even have any idea how they will assimilate with their teeny-weeny brains whatever you try to explain to them."

--- *** ---

Once the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer's series of monotonously unavoidable whispers of her vermilion sneakers ghosted creamily, relentlessly the concetre empty asphalt, subsequently mild heat pebbled ruthlessly her delicate, alabaster epidermis zapped due to the stark moderation of her uneven pace ghostwriting her jogging. The heart pulsations perkily hysterical battered the frequency of the sluggish pounds thudding her brittle rubcage, guarding with its constructed walls of the megawattly potent heart pulses almost levelling out the sheer adrenaline to spring out of its grate. Fashioning into balled fists her white-knuckled, petite hands on reflex, the frequency of the dully breathless inward inhales and snorts through her tiny, vulnerable nostrils to swig the fresh, nocturnal air during her jogging expedition, the middle-aged lady's naturally roseate, lusciously plumpish lips pursed thoughtfully, warily.

The functioning pulses and muscles melded to pressure restlessly and the genuine epitome of the freedom infectiously sweet laced the middle-aged lady's fat of her berry-coloured tongue, squinting up her fixated cinnamon brown optics forward. The crickets' silver-tonguedly elating, serene songs composed its own nocturnal ballad to play on loop repetitively.

Hypodermic heat of the generous layer of pinkness tinged mischievously tickled the Bostonian's well-carved, chubby cheeks.

What Judy enamored with the leisure jog to ghostwrite a handful of kilometers on her own was the utter relaxation from her daily problems and tremendous responsibilities, encumbering her chaotic daily schedule. It felt like a leisure walk in the park or anywhere where the limited quantity of general population blocked her path to scorch the futile calories and motioning the choir of tandeming muscles to rotate and grind altogether.