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In Facebook some people were re-remembering JS (Journalspace)… and how it would be great to start up a new JS site once again (an often repeated wish). One member said he’s in the business and would gladly try to get something started and asked for any help about the former software and/or how it looked.

I looked through my archives and YES! I found my old tutorials! I am now, slowly, adding them to this site. Enjoy the „JS 4 Dummies“ or „Peanut Gallery“… insiders know what that means...

Those of you on facebook may already have read about the changes I’ve made with the blog. I now set one up just for JS nostalgia. It’s located at blogger since that’s an easy to use site which many of you already are members of. You can find it at JS-Revival Blogger Blog….sorry, no longer available. You can of course comment on it, you can follow it for updates, etc. I’m hoping to get a few of you to be co-authors so that entries won’t only be by me. And I hope that we can put up a lot of great JS nostalgia entries. So, if you are interested in being a co-author, please send me a message, preferably via facebook, and we’ll see how that works.

Dorrie aka Westy

Dorrie Van Cleef

Marie-Curie-Ring 7

64832 Babenhausen / Hessen, Germany

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The JS Peanut Gallery

March 17, 2019: I wrote this long ago on a different site and I’m just adding it here:

As if I don`t have enough to do, and enough JS journals to mess around and keep track with! 

Many of you JS`ers know me already. I`ve been hanging around JS for almost 3 years now under the journal Westy! Yep, ole Westy just can`t get enough of blogging!! 

Anyway, the introducing of the new interface nick-named „Peanuts“ caused a lot of controversy…. some liked it, some hated it, some could care less. What bothers me the most is that too many „old timers“ were jumping ship, and I think that`s a pity! 

We don`t blog because of an interface!! We blog for ourselves, to just write stuff down, or to communicate with other people! And JS has some of the best people of any journals sites I`ve visited so far. 

As with anything new, it needs getting used to. So, I thought I`d try something. In this journal I want to demonstrate some of the ways to NAVIGATE around the new features… so that`s why the name The Naviagtor! 

I don`t use all the features, I don`t know all the features, so this is hopefully a place where EVERYONE can share their JS knowledge! 

So, help me along and get this thing on the road. Since I live in Europe, my timezone is different then most of yours, which means I won`t always reply right away, besides real life getting in the way! 

Feel free to ask questions and also to answer questions other people ask in the comment section. 

The next entry will be about configuring the homepage…. perhaps tomorrow. 

The Navigator

From burstmode at Sat, 20 Oct 2007 16:43:53 -0700

OK—I am from the google school of simplicity. I liked the old interface because of that. But, I believe JS is a unique blog-site and I don’t mind changing when necessary.

From itiswell at Sat, 20 Oct 2007 17:34:17 -0700

Great Idea. Im with burstmode, the reason I liked the old interface becuase it was easy.

From likeisaid at Sat, 20 Oct 2007 12:25:43 -0700

Wow, what a great idea..I love the background, hehe. 🙂 
Me and peanut will get along just fine as long as they keep the old editor. I have yet to learn how to post a picture in the new one! Maybe this is the place to find out. 🙂 
Thanks, Westy!

From TheNavigator at Sat, 20 Oct 2007 12:31:07 -0700

I hope they keep the old editor, too…. I just can’t get used to the new one and I also have problems posting pictures with it. Yes, I did try! But I guess there are some tricks old „dogs“ CAN’T learn! heehee

From Melody at Sat, 20 Oct 2007 12:37:46 -0700

A good idea. I will stop by and learn something new 🙂

From MaFanLaile at Sat, 20 Oct 2007 15:33:57 -0700

hey….thank you!!! 

maybe this old dog can learn a few new tricks! am bookmarking it!

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The Big Journalspace Crash

corrected/re-written on March 17, 2019
When JS crashed and died in December 2008 there was a lot of hype about it all over the press. MANY members of JS were upset about losing all their entries and mad because there was no warning about it. Well, the admin couldn’t give a warning…. a former employee set up a trojan or other type of bug into the software and suddenly the site kicked the bucket.
 I had already set up a, no longer existing, forum as a refugee camp for when the site was down for maintenance and needless to say, I was soon busier then I ever thought I would be, especially since it was the holiday season as well.
 Soon everyone drifted off to other blogging sites, especially as we became to realise that JS was NOT coming back. Many still kept contact with each other, others were lost to the whelms of the cyber world.
 During the crises I was approached by a reported of some computer magazine, asking about my refugee camp and wanting a statement. Here’s her request and my answer…..I don’t remember it….sorry.
 Then there was this very „entertaining“ video put up in YouTube…. I was able to grab it before it disappeared forever.

as of today, March 17, 2019, it’s still on YouTube available 

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It’s been a while……

…since I last posted and life has been a virtual roller coaster ride! Finally, my move out of my (perfect) apartment to my new home is cmpleted….. it was more then stressful! Imagine trying to merge two complete households without either willing or wanting to throw THEIR stuff out! It ended up that most of my stuff is stored in a huge factory which my new boy friend’s son owns….. and by chance located just 100 meters from my old apartment! Fate? hmmmmm

There were moments when I wished I hadn’t taken this step, but in spite of his age, R. is fun, funny, and tells me daily how glad he is to have found me…. something I missed the past years. And it’s so nice not being alone at night and having someone to cuddle in the mornings. But there were days when his age showed (did I mention he’s 82?)…. shall I say STUBBORN!? 🙂

He is accepted by my kids (VERY important!), and I’m accepted by his (he has 3 sons, 1 daughter, 9 grandchildren, and 1 great grandson). It’s nice to be able to visit family events as a couple and not as a single…..

Before you-know-who I had a 7 yr. relationship with a great guy, Tommy. We separated because of my move closer to where my job was, and 110 km far away. And due to other reasons, we split, yet I never forgot him. I had been trying to find out if he still lived in our apartment or moved and whether he had a new partner (fearing he may, I didn’t dare call at his place). I searched for hints in the internet, found his daughter in a German „facebook“ but didn’t dare contact him. I thought maybe we could get together again if I ever split with you-know-who, but then came R. but I still didn’t give up hope. And then I got a call in July from his best friend. I knew right away why he called……Tommy had died of multiple health reasons. I went to his funeral….. his sister gave a talk and mentioned me, though we never met. It seems that he didn’t have a new relationship after me and his sister had tried hard to contact ME after his death! Luckily his friend called my former office and I happened to be there to return my keys when the call came (fate?). The worst emotion was seeing that small urn with his ashes and realising that that was all that was left of the person I once loved…. of the arms that once held me, the body I once held and loved. DAMN!  Too late…… Sometimes fate sucks….

My cat has adjusted well to her new home. She was always an indoor cat and for the first time discovered… GRASS! And she actually loves walking in the rain! She has her special patch of clover she lays in. And R. has become really attached to her. It’s so cute to see the cat houses and feeding stations he has built for her! (because her food got eaten by porcupines, we had to make a raised food station). She eats more, has gained weight, and has a nice thick winter fur coat now.

I’m not as much online as I used to be anyway. Yay, the former blogging whore has mellowed. *sigh*

I do check my favorites regularly (=every day at least once) but don’t comment often. I’m trying to keep up-dated with everyone but don’t always manage…. sorry.

OK, that’s enough for now. I’ll post pics some day…. promise!

The above entry I first wrote in Blogger, October 2012

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20 Year age difference….Big Deal?

First writing began May 2013 / last corrections done February 2016

In March, 2012 I wrote an Email to my then boyfriend telling him goodbye. A few days later I visited the Babenhausen flying Club. Another visitor there, Richard, surprised, and thrilled me. I knew Richard some 30 years; He was a pilot from a neighboring glider airfield. Soon I discovered the reason for his visit, The authority responsible for his airfield, had closed it for powered gliders because of trees and bushes that had grown too close to the runway. I could only agree with the restrictions IF they were as bad as reported. We chatted a bit longer. In the mean time I discovered that he was widowed and loved to take long walks, something my former boyfriend didn’t enjoy. He soon asked me for my telephone number and I thought   „why not?”


About a week later he called and asked me if I’d go out with him. Sure…why not? He arrived, presented me with an orchid, proving he was a gentleman then we drove to Breuberg where we walked around, then enjoyed a meal.

The weather was so great; we ate outdoors, in the Breuberg courtyard. And we talked…and talked. We walked around the ruins, and then decided to drive off toward home, We drove through a small town which was having a Folksfest. Richard found a place for us to park and we walked through the fest. We were soon bored so we walked back to the car and drove home. Yes, I enjoyed myself.

The next weekend he picked me up again. This time we drove to Seligenstadt. Before driving to the town, we stopped at a restaurant on the Main River. It was too crowded to stay for coffee so we stopped at the river before continuing our drive.

Our stop in Seligenstadt was quite lovely.

I didn’t know yet how special horses were for Richard. He was once a horse dealer/trader. This was now the end of May. I only had a few weeks to work before going into early retirement.

Once again we did lots of talking. At some point I must have mentioned my high rent costs for my perfect apartment. He suggested I move in to his house; I could move in for free. He was lonely there anyway. He decided that he would show it to me on one of our next “dates”. And that he did. I soon told my landlord that I would be moving out. Observing the 3-month notice time put my moving deadline Sept. 2012. What was so special that made me make such a massive decision? Also, I had heavy cat doctor bills…..Shila’s eyes were causing problems. So my finances were beginning to scare me….

Richard was a pilot who I knew almost 30 years.

We had many common friends in various flying clubs.

We were both lonely souls, looking for companionship.

He enjoyed taking walks

He had room for me to move into and it wouldn’t cost me any rent, my payment would be taking care of him. He had 4 kids who more or less took care of him. I know that once they heard about me, they would be thrilled that someone was there to take care of him.

His house was located in a pretty exclusive area near Aschaffenburg.

The main house had a large living room, the main bedroom, in which I refused to sleep in. Above the bed was an oil painting of Richards wife (now dead from cancer since about 5 years; she was wearing a partly see-through negligee—-not my taste. None of his kids wanted to inherit the picture. He couldn’t understand why, but I could).

Then there was his daughter Gabi’s former bedroom. It needed new flooring badly. So together with Richards’s sons Klaus and Bernd and Bernd’s’ wife, Heidi we put in laminate flooring. They did a good job and it really made a difference. The room also had a built in clothes closet (very practical), We soon managed to move my “French” bed into the room, then we slowly moved in ourselves.

There was, of course, a bath and a kitchen. Richard told me I could do whatever renovations I felt necessary. Unfortunately he soon forgot that promise, The bath was much too small, but it had a bathtub! The kitchen was also horrible with an (in my opinion) unusable gas stove, only 47 cm wide. For Richard it was fine, after all his former wife, Elisabeth, had used it and seem to have no problem. But she never knew more modern equipment. All the cupboards were only 50 cm wide, making it almost impossible to remove one and replace it with a decent stove.

Richard made a few promises that soon got ignored. He owned another house in Wertheim, a 5 family house, and according to him it was supposed to transfer to me if I lived longer then he did. In spite of mentioning how important it was to write it all down and get it officially notarized, we never got that taken care of. Also, according to him his kids had already received 100,000 € each which was to be considered as their legal inheritance. This fact was also never written down and/or registered as far as I knew. He had his bookkeeping but that would surely never hold up in court.

During these first weeks he talked a lot about Elisabeth, his now deceased wife. I understood he needed to talk so I let him. But it soon began to drive me crazy, especially when he talked about how open they had been, sexually. It seems she had had a lover, a priest, and their loving got recorded on video. Richard accepted this very odd relationship, Many of these get-togethers got recorded on video and Richard tried to force me to watch the videos (thinking I might learn something?). I refused to watch them, but he couldn’t/wouldn’t understand me. In his eyes I was old fashioned. Soon the age difference showed more and more. He often commented that his wife had gone to a special household school, which made her special in his eyes. With time he mentioned it too often. Our tastes differed but I let him have his way…it was his home after all. He had moved into it around 1948.

Most of my stuff I stored in clear plastic containers. That way my stuff was kept relatively clean and I could see what was in it. He hated those boxes, for him they were a waste of money. I had one box (case) which had a carry holder. It was full of my cleaning materials. Also in Richard’s opinion I had much too much plus most of it being too modern (unknown to him it was all good stuff). I liked knowing where to find what I was looking for.

The cellar he had supposedly dug out himself…..his 3 sons had lived/slept in the cellar. Till this day I wonder how they managed to fit there. He was too much against changes.

There was a bar room plus a pantry as well as another shower (for his use primarily) and the washing machine and dryer. He showed me the precautions he did at the entrances to keep mice from invading. There was also a Sauna and he told me to stash my boxes there, which I did. He later complained that I had so much stuff. Well, what do you expect from a 60 yr. old.

When I tried to throw stuff of Richards away, he had no understanding, but in his mind all of my stuff was junk and unnecessary, like my boxes of sewing material. He even looked into trash bags to see what I threw away. I hoped that some day, during my retired time, I would pick up sewing once again occasionally Richard refused to believe me. For him it was a never to be fulfilled dream. I at times caught him going through the trash, “saving” stuff of his that I’d thrown away.

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Watching the slow decay…..

first written in January  2009

Mom and I sit, as usual, in the living room. The television is on in the background. She’s sitting in “her” chair, located in front of her now seldom used computer. It’s an older model, one of dad’s “hand-me-downs”.

I’m sitting next to her in dad’s big, comfy chair while he’s in the back room playing on his computer.

I arrived on New Years Day. Upon my arrival, mom knew who I was. Yet I have already noticed a few of her “slips” that my brother, Carl, and his wife, Alice, had warned me about.

Then she asks where I live. “Germany”, I answer.

“Where are you going from here?” she asks.

I reply as neutral yet as truthful as possible, “Back home to Germany.”

“oh, Dorrie lived in Germany, but she moved. I have no idea where she is now.” There is no point in trying to correct her.

An empty tissue box lies on the table in front of her. In it are a few papers, a framed picture of my niece, Cassie, and her boyfriend, Anthony, plus some pencils, pens, and small scissors. Mom points to the picture.

“I don’t know the names. They left here and forgot to take the picture with them.”

“I think that’s Cassie and her boyfriend (who I haven’t met yet so I’m assuming).”

“They forgot to take it with them.” Mom insists.

“Mom, it was a present for you to keep.”

“Write the names down, I have to return it, they forgot it.” She hands me an empty envelope, I write down “Cassandra” and give it to her. She takes the picture together with the envelope and marches to the back room where dad is sitting.

“I have to tell “that guy” (meaning dad).” Dad repeats what I had told her, but she won’t listen and gets mad because no one listens to her.

“They gave it to you as a present, to hang up somewhere,” I repeat. “Let’s find a place where we can hang it.”

“No! It’s not going here!” she then insists, since she doesn’t accept this place as her home. She then places it face down on her dresser, so it won’t get forgotten when she “goes home”.

She returns to her chair and her tissue box. She begins to sort the papers in the box. I also notice her placing the pencils and scissors into envelopes. I suggest she put them in the cup that sits next to the computer, together with other pens.

“But then they’ll be forgotten when I go home,” she whines. I humor her by telling her that the cup can be taken home with her as well. She thinks about that for a moment and accepts, then continues sorting the stuff in the box.

Later I’m sitting, writing in a notepad. The lighting isn’t great and she asks, “How can you see there, Dorrie?”

She once again recognized me.



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Cruising back into life…..

It was with great excitement that I departed the airplane and headed toward the waiting buses that would take me to the ship for a Canary Island cruise. It was my first cruise and for the next week, the ship would be my home.

There were 5 buses being loaded with our suitcases and baggage. The first ones were already bursting so I went on to the next, loaded my suitcase and carry-on, and then boarded the bus to find a seat.

The first rows were already occupied, but about the fifth row down, a young man sat all alone. I was also alone so I asked him if the seat was free, which he confirmed, so I sat down.

“Hm”, I thought, “much too young for me; more in my daughter’s age range”. He was slim and had reddish hair. I had never cared for red heads.

Soon the buses got on their way for the 40 minute ride to the harbor where the ship was anchored. Soon the travel agent stood up with her microphone to announce the procedures. “The cabins won’t be ready upon our arrival,” she announced, “because the guests from the previous crew are still on board. Your baggage will be collected from the buses and kept in the sign-in area and then they will be brought to your cabins as soon as the cabins are cleaned. For the sign-in, please have your vouchers and passports ready.”

“Oooops!” I said out loud to no one in particular, yet turning toward my neighbor. “My passport is in my carry-on and I put it in the baggage compartment of the bus!” I began to worry whether I would be able to retrieve it at the end of the ride.

The ice was broken and the two of us introduced ourselves. His name was Wolfgang and, I could hardly believe it, he was only 2 years younger than me!

“Maybe the bus driver will let me get my bag since it’s right at the front of the compartment”.

We continued to chat, then upon our arrival I went to the bus driver and yes, he’d let me get my bag. That was a relief!

We departed the buses and went to our respective sign-in counters. Since we were both traveling alone, we decided it would be more fun to explore the ship together then on our own, so that’s exactly what we did.

For the next week we enjoyed each other’s company. We went on bus tours together at the various islands we stopped at. We took our meals together, enjoying the conversation and getting to know each other. And in the evenings we would sit at one of the bars, enjoying the live music and occasionally taking a turn on the dance floor. Life was good! Life was once again fun again!

Other passengers took us for a married couple and didn’t believe we had only just met.

We had both embarked on the cruise alone. I was single, but had a boyfriend, John, back home who was unable, and unwilling, to join me on the cruise. Wolfgang was married, yet separated.

We marveled at the fact of our meeting…. how fate had brought two lonely souls, far from home, together. If either one of us had taken a different bus that day we may never have met each other. Yet we had met and too many factors like age and interests just seemed to fit into place.

I refused to let our relationship become deeper. Never again did I want to get involved with a married man, no matter how much he tried to convince me that he was as good as divorced. I was hurt and burned once with my long-term involvement with a married man and never again did I want to subject myself to that pain and hurt again.

On the fifth day of the cruise I needed time to myself. Too many thoughts went through my head that needed sorting. The emotional hurt that my relationship with John caused me, mixed with the elation of being able to enjoy life once again, to laugh and smile. It had nothing to do with any feelings I might have been developing for Wolfgang, but just the freedom of being myself again…. being able to let my personality shine once again. I couldn’t concentrate on the book I had brought to read or on anything else. In the process I broke down, drowning my thoughts in tears.

Later I was once again composed enough to meet Wolfgang for dinner. I had already confided in him about my situation and problems, and he was a good, understanding listener. He tried hard not to let the fact that he was falling in love with me make things more complicated…. but he wasn’t succeeding very well.

On our last day my flight left before his and he accompanied me to the ship’s check out, while he had to remain behind. We waved to each other, not knowing if or when we would ever meet again.

first written: January 2010



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Until this year, nothing notable had happened in the town of Madison since the year of its founding. 

This year was the year of the big 100th anniversary celebrations. This was to be the year of parades and parties lasting long into the late nights, ending with huge fireworks. After all, 100 years was a long time for such a small western town. Like its namesake, Madison, Wisconsin, the small town of Madison had been named after the 4th president of the USA, James Madison. Or that’s what the historians thought. But that’s where the resemblance ends. 

Nothing exciting ever happened in Madison. Except for the usual traffic accidents, occasional murder or other incidents, the town could almost be described as boring. 

Until 2007 and the arrival of Jason James. As a reporter and history enthusiast, Jason was sure the small town of Madison would have an interesting story to tell. His first stop was the local library, where he looked through the logs and ledgers, trying to find something worth noting. He had already surfed the internet, looking for some hint of a story waiting to be told. Was it really possible, that nothing notable had ever happened there?  

After spending hours in the library, Jason decided to walk the streets and talk to some of the people. He found the residents quite open and friendly, but no one thought it strange that the town had no particular tales to tell and they couldn’t offer anything. Then he met Maggie. 

Maggie sat in a rocking chair on her front porch, enjoying the last afternoon rays of sunshine. It was hard to determine her age, but Jason judged she was perhaps somewhere in her 80’s. He knocked on the picket fence to attract her attention. She looked up from her cup of tea and signaled for him to come and join her and soon they were conversing away like old friends. Jason took notes, but for him it was more fascinating to just listen to Maggie. It seemed like Maggie had been hungering to talk for some time, but no one had wanted to listen, no one had ever shown interest in her stories, until now. 

Jason was amazed to find out that Maggie was also 100 years old, as old as the founding of her home town. This fact alone was notable, but no one knew it until now. Indeed, her parents had been one of the first to settle there, long before the town was actually a town. Her parents had owned the very first general store and post office.  

In the days that followed, Jason and Maggie continued their little talks. Jason brought along a tape recorder so he could record the tales first hand. Maggie glowed while talking and soon more and more details of her growing up years came to light. She told about the little one-room school house, about all the men leaving for WWI, then later for WWII, some never to return, including her first fiancé and true love. Her eyes suddenly took on a sad expression as she talked for the first time in decades about Jeremy and the plans they had made for their wedding, which never came to pass.  

Soon after Jeremy had gone off to war, his young bride left to visit relatives, coming back a changed person. No one seemed to think it strange that she no longer socialized, that she showed no interest in a new relationship, considering her loss. She had many young men coming to call on her, but she turned them all away. The only time she left her home was to teach at the local school and do her shopping. Yet she seemed content. Soon no one paid any more attention to her. Until Jason arrived, and he sensed that there was something else, something she hadn’t shared yet.

The biggest celebrations in Madison were planned for the following weekend. Jason already had quite a selection of stories to present to his publisher. In fact, he was considering putting them together into a series or even a book. Again he went to visit Maggie, and as soon as he appeared, instead of sitting on the porch, she asked him inside her home for the first time. He followed her and, upon crossing the threshold, it was like entering another world. The furniture and wall hangings were from previous decades, her home almost like a museum. “What an interesting tourist attraction this would make”, Jason thought. He soon discarded the thought since it was Maggie’s home and shouldn’t be invaded by strangers. She led him over to an old chest which stood in the curved window seat.  

“Young man” she asked, “would you do me a favor and open the chest? The lock has been unused for so long, I can no longer open it.”  

“Of course”, he replied, reaching for the big rusty key. 

“Now, before you lift the lid, I must tell you one more thing,” she continued, as he halted in his efforts with the lock. “You see, no one has ever been interested in me before you arrived. Not only that, I feel a kinship to you that I haven’t felt since my Jeremy left me for the war, never to return. In this chest you will find mementoes and documents from my past. My time here is running out, and I know you will know what to do with them.”  

“I will not misuse your trust”, he replied, and opened the heavy chest. As Maggie had hinted, the chest was full of items from her past, including official documents. He removed the papers to the nearby table and continued studying each item still in the chest. There were a few photos, but not many. One was of a young couple, smiling happily into the camera lens, holding hands yet sitting “proper”. Jason turned to ask Maggie about the photo and found she had gone back outside to the porch. Carrying the photo with him, he went out to ask her if that was a photo of her and Jeremy.  

“Take a good look at the photo,“ she said. Jason did as she said, then noticed what she meant. It was indeed a picture of the young Maggie. In all the years, she had lost none of her natural beauty. Then he looked at the young man in the picture, Jeremy. Jason’s eyes grew bigger as he stared at the picture. He almost felt like he was looking in a mirror! 

“Now you see why I trust you with my mementoes,“ she replied. “Soon after Jeremy left for the war, I discovered I was pregnant. Now, back in those days there was just no way I could care for a child! So I left to visit my aunt who lived in Madison, Wisconsin. There I gave birth to the cutest little baby girl, Madeline. I had so wanted a son so that I could name him Jeremy. Madeline is almost like Madison, you know? She was brought up by my aunt until my aunt died, and then placed in a home or orphanage. I never did find out where she was and lost all contact.” Again her eyes appeared sad as she stared out in the distance.  

“You never did ask me about my last name,” she said, as she turned to look to him again. “The town was named after my family and not after the president as they claim. My real name was Maggie Madison. But no one remembers that. My daddy took on the name after leaving there on his trek to the west. That picture was actually my wedding picture, to Jeremy. We had one night together before he left. Most people didn’t even realize we had actually gotten married and thought I had just taken on his name in remembrance of him. You’ll find the wedding certificate among the papers you found. But if you’ll excuse me now, I must lay down. You may take the papers with you if you wish.”  

With the information at hand, Jason returned to the library where he began some extra research, using the internet as well as the town’s archives. Soon the whole truth about the history of Maggie Madison came to light. Jason sat staring at the information he uncovered, stunned. He grabbed up the papers and rushed over to Maggie’s home. She sat, as usual, in her rocking chair. She seemed more pale then normal, and much quieter. 

“No need to tell me what I already know, young man,” she replied, smiling.  

The news spread like wildfire, changing the course of the celebrations. Maggie Madison died that day and was buried at the old cemetery, next to the graves of her parents. And Jason was welcomed as the long lost son, which in fact he was. The feeling of familiarity Maggie had felt was easy to explain, since he was the great grandson of Maggie’s daughter Madeline.

This story I first wrote on Oktober 2007 for a writing competition in Journalspace. We were given the word „Madison“ to write about….. and this was my solution.


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Dance of the fireflies

“Do you want to?” John asked as he drove back toward the village where Sarah lived.
“Well, the weather looks promising,” she replied, knowing exactly what he meant.
It was a midsummer night and the weather was soft and warm, not hot, one of those lovely nights that invited romance.
Anyone who had observed them during their romantic dinner would have thought they were newlyweds. They had seemed oblivious to their surroundings, to the other customers of the well visited restaurant, to the trees of the nearby forest. Yet their relationship had already lasted over five years, five years of the usual ups and downs that life tends to throw at you. But they were like a unit, always knowing what the other was thinking. They almost didn’t need to speak words out loud.
Just before sunset they had decided to leave. Holding hands, they had climbed into John’s Toyota 4-Runner and driven off.
Not too distant was their favorite spot, a small clearance in a forest just east of the village. They had been there a few times, taking short walks or just gazing at the evening stars.
The parking lot was, as usual at this hour, empty. They parked and were just about to get out when they noticed them… one, two, three… there, another one! Fireflies! All around them the little points of light danced.
“There must be a nest somewhere!” John laughed.
They left the car and walked along a nearby path, watching the dancing fireflies, listening to the noises of the night.
John drew her closer to him, searching with his lips for her mouth. He loved her kisses, almost as much as she enjoyed his. His hand held her thigh, then slowly moved up toward the seam of her mini skirt. He wondered whether she had dared leave her panties off today, which she had sometimes done in the past. Yes, she had, and soon he was caressing her well formed, naked rear and he pressed her tighter toward him.
“We had better get back to the car”, he said, as he noticed the air getting cooler and the sweat of their bodies increasing. “I don’t want you catching a chill.”
They slowly walked back to the car. Everywhere the fireflies were still dancing, entertaining the two lovers as they stood next to the car and watched. The car was between them and the entrance of the parking lot. It was still empty of any other intruders, except for them and the fireflies.
Their kisses increased, getting more intensive, their hands exploring and caressing the others’ body. Sarah had her back against the car. John had already slipped down his jeans. Soon the heat was really up, not only weather wise. Their passion soared with each passing second, while the fireflies continued to dance around them. They were about to climax, about to reach the ecstasies of love.
Suddenly a light flashed. The headlights of a car appeared near by through the trees. Instead of turning off to a nearby road, the headlights beamed into the clearance. Sarah and John froze. The driver though seemed to notice the black Toyota. He immediately reversed and drove off in the direction he had come (how considerate), surely quite disappointed to find the parking lot already occupied.
“Damn!” said John, not knowing whether to be angry or start laughing. “Couldn’t they have arrived 30 seconds later?” he exclaimed, as he felt the moisture running down his legs. Still holding her tight, he took a deep sigh.
“Oh, well,” said Sarah, trying to keep back a laugh, “there will be a next time I’m sure. And perhaps again with those romantic dancing fireflies.” They got into the car and drove home.
It wasn’t until months later that they found time to visit the parking lot again. This time they didn’t find any fireflies, only another car sitting in the parking lot in the dark. It was their turn to spoil someone else’s fun!

The above story was first written in August 2006…..

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