(C)Copyright 1996 by Ronald Rand
All Rights Reserved.

Below is a story I wrote about three years ago (in 1993) entitled, "Pictures of Samantha." It is (C)Copyright 1996 by Ronald Rand because that's when I finished it. It's about a love that never dies. It is dark and romantic: grim, yet uplifting, and a bit supernatural. I invite you to read it now or at your leisure. I will be adding more poems and stories as I have more time.

Thank you.



"Baby, come quick," he told her on the phone. "It's everything we've ever dreamed of."

He gave her directions that she couldn't write down quickly enough. She flew out the front door, ran to her car, and sped out of her mom's driveway. Tears streamed down her eyes as she thought about their new home.

This is the break we've been waiting for, she thought.

He waited for her. He had just signed the papers and the real estate lady was leaving. He waited for a long time. An hour passed, and then two hours. He tried to call her house five times, but the phone kept ringing. He checked his directions over and over to see if maybe he'd sent her to the wrong address.

He looked over at the mantel on the fireplace. Earlier, he put a picture up there of him holding his fiancè, taken just after he'd proposed to her. Her smile sent a shiver down his spine. He wanted her to see it as soon as she walked through the door. Her face on the mantel seemed to call out to him.

"Richard!" the lips pronounced.

Two and a half hours had already gone by since he'd called her to tell her to come to the house. He grabbed his coat and headed for the street.

He followed the route he had told her to take, backwards. Through his mind raced all of the possible reasons for her delay. A car might have collided with her at the busy intersection of Parkview and Ralston. Oh God!, he thought to himself, that's what happened! Why did I have to send her down Parkway? I could've sent her down Jefferson.


"Oh, Richard," she said to him. "You always say the sweetest things."

She rubbed a fingertip down his cheek and towards his chin. He kissed her fingers sensually and caressed her breast with his right forefinger. She said, "I feel so safe in your arms."

"I would never let anyone or anything hurt you," he said, sucking on her probing fingers. He ran his fingers through her long, chestnut brown hair. She nuzzled at his neck, and he could feel her breathing in the scent of his aftershave.

"I love the way you smell," she whispered. "It's weird, but I know that smell from somewhere."

"Maybe your dad wore it," he responded.

Her face clouded over.

"My dad always smelled like sweat and stale beer."

He realized his blunder and quickly tried to cheer her up:

"Maybe your other boyfriend wears it," he said.

"You're terrible," she retorted, trying to sound angry. She giggled, in spite of herself, and looked at him with a look that said, I love you forever.

Her legs entwined his as she pulled him tight to her body.


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