WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour – Jan Sikes @rijanjks
#RWISA , Watch RWISA Write / August 6, 2017

  R-E-S-P-E-C-T By Jan Sikes   Henry Jacobsen ran gnarled fingers through 84 years of living and swatted at a fly that buzzed around his head. The sun warmed his old bones and he turned to face his longtime friend. “You know, Aaron, what the world needs now, is for people to show a little more respect to each other. Back in my day, if I acted or talked disrespectful, I got my hide tanned.” The wooden boards underneath Aaron’s rocker creaked in syncopated rhythm with his movement. “Yep, Henry. Times are different nowadays.” Henry timed his chair rhythm with Aaron’s. “Before I came to stay here, I had a house over on Boulder Street. There was a family a few doors down that was always borrowing things from me, but somehow they never remembered to return any of them.” Aaron nodded. “I’ve had it happen to me many times.” “I pulled into the driveway one day just in time to see the oldest kid unscrewing my water hose. By the time I parked the car and got out, he had it slung over his shoulder.” Henry’s frown deepened. “It’s frustrating when you can’t move like you used to.” He…

WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour – Wendy Scott @WendyJayneScott
#RWISA , Watch RWISA Write / August 5, 2017

  Navigator by Wendy Scott   Luke’s body whirled through the portal in a kaleidoscope of starlight and rainbows. Burnt ozone stung his nostrils, and his stomach roiled as if live dragonflies flitted inside. He clutched his grandfather’s palm tighter, the only connection anchoring them together while they spun into the void, guided by the compass in his grandfather’s other hand. “We’re here.” His grandfather’s words whistled with wheeziness. He released Luke and turned away, pocketing the compass, but his old man’s movements weren’t quick enough to hide the tremors or his shortness of breath. A mountain breeze, tinged with smoke ruffled the tussock grasses underfoot. In the valley below, Luke pinpointed a chimney on a cluster of shacks beside fenced paddocks. Had the old man’s sense of direction faded and cast them adrift? “Follow me.” His grandfather rolled his shoulders back, lifted his head high, and led the descent. Mindful of their journey’s mission doubt dragged at Luke’s feet. At only twelve, would he be found worthy? He didn’t want to think about his grandfather’s declining health if their bid was rejected. Metallic scent tainted the air as they skirted past the dwellings; a one-room cottage, barn, and a…

WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour – Gwen Plano @gmplano
#RWISA , Watch RWISA Write / August 4, 2017

  Love at First Sight By Gwendolyn M Plano   “It doesn’t seem real. It just doesn’t seem real.” Mom muttered as she ran her hand over the curves of dad’s headstone. Sighing deeply, she stared blankly into the horizon. After a few minutes, she turned and faced me. “I tell myself that it must be real.” She seemed to want my approval. “The stone says we were married 70 years. It must have happened; I must have been married. But, but…why can’t I remember?” She searched my face for answers. Stooped from the burden of years now elusive and sometimes vacant, mom held my arm while she walked to either side of the monument. “I saw him in a dream. Did I tell you that?” “No, mom, I don’t think you did.” “He was young, like when we first met.” “Really? Could you tell me about how you met?” “How?” Mom’s eyes darted to and fro as she struggled to answer. Then, as though the curtains lifted, she responded. “Yes…yes, I can tell you how we met.” “Let’s sit here, mom.” I led her to a cement bench under a tall oak tree near dad’s grave. “Now tell me…

WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour – Beem Weeks @voiceofindie & @BeemWeeks
#RWISA , Watch RWISA Write / August 3, 2017

  Wordless By Beem Weeks   “What’s that word say?” “That’s an easy one, Daddy. Just sound it out.” Levi Bacchus can’t read. 36 years old, and he’d never learned the meaning of a single sentence. “I just ain’t cut out for this, Jamie Lynn.” The girl’s countenance dropped in disagreement—just like her mother, that one. “So, you’re a quitter now?” she bellowed, sounding too much like the woman who’d walked out of their lives two years earlier. Levi took offense. “Mind your manners, Missy. I ain’t never been called no quitter.” “Reading is something everybody should be able to do, is all I’m saying.” “It’s easy for you,” Levi argued. “You’re just a kid, still in school. You have teachers telling you what to do and how to do it. I’m just too old for learning.” The girl narrowed her gaze, jabbed a finger into the open book. “From the beginning,” she demanded. His heaving huff meant he’d do it again—if only for her sake. Words formed in his head before finding place on his tongue. Some came through in broken bits and pieces, while others arrived fully formed and ready for sound. Jamie’s excitement in the matter is…

WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour – Laurie Finkelstein @lauriebethart
#RWISA , Watch RWISA Write / August 2, 2017

  Bulletproof Vest By Laurie Finkelstein   The bulk, padding, and steel plates weigh me down. The protection of a bulletproof vest is necessary. No matter the weather, I wear the cloak. The weight is a burden, but I trek on because wrapped is the only way to navigate my journey. The jacket protects my heart from being blown to crimson shards of death. A direct hit is avoided for days and nights, lulling me into calm and complacency. “All will work out fine,” I tell myself. The truth tells a story I want to change. All my will and might does not make an impact to stop the bombardment. Experience and time separates me from tragedy. At any moment, the bullets strike. Inside or out. My house cannot provide security, nor can a million people surrounding me. With nowhere to hide, I am a target. Shelter and safety are nonexistent. Discharges are held back while luck and grace harbor me. The slugs will come, however, in a piercing barrage without warning, and will pummel me. Knocked to the ground, I am immobilized and rendered helpless. My breathing is halted. My movements are stopped, and I understand what assaulted me….

WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour – Karen Ingalls @KIngallsAuthor
#RWISA , Watch RWISA Write / August 1, 2017

Welcome, readers!  Today is the 2nd day of the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour!  For each of the 31 days of August, a different RWISA member will be profiled here. I’ll introduce you to some good reading and some very talented writers.  I hope that you will visit each member’s Author Page and their Author Story and share your comments and LIKE their pages.  You may find their books within the RWISA catalog. Please leave a comment below letting me know you’ve stopped by to say hello! Now, Room With Books proudly presents. . .   A FISHY DAY by Karen Ingalls . It was one of those wonderful August days when the sun was high and warm in the sky. The big cumulus clouds slowly drifted by, creating designs that filled Jim’s imagination, who at nine years could see all kinds of amazing sights. He had been playing with his model airplane in his aunt and uncle’s yard, where he spent the summers on their ranch in San Diego, California. Staying with Uncle Leon and Aunt Helen was always a special time of adventure, fun and farm work. “Jim, do you want to go to the pasture with me? We’ll check the water trough for the cattle,” Uncle Leon asked,…

WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour – Yvette Calleiro @Calleirobooks
#RWISA , Watch RWISA Write / July 31, 2017

Welcome, readers!  Today is the 1st day of the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour!  For the 31 days of August, a new RWISA member will be profiled here, to introduce you to some good reading and some talented writers.  We hope that you will visit each member’s Author Page and their Author Story and share your comments and LIKE their pages.  You may find their books within the RWISA catalog. Now, Room With Books proudly presents. . .   Words By Yvette M Calleiro   The written word and I Are cherished friends, Embracing each other’s thoughts and emotions Like kindred spirits, Dancing on clouds. Bosom buddies who gossip and giggle And gasp at all the same moments. She and I are equals, More than that, really. We are two parts of a whole, Complementing and complimenting the other, Perfect beings. . The spoken word and I Skirt around each other’s social circles. We stumble around awkward pauses, Unable to pull the perfect word or phrase From our filing cabinet of knowledge. Ease and grace flee without a moment’s notice. She is more skilled than I. She whispers her intricately woven ideas into my mind, But her delicate strength is no match for The hills of anxiety and the mountains of…