Gratitude is the real treasure God wants us to find, because it isn't the pot of gold but the rainbow that colors our world.
Richelle E. GoodrichTag: gold appreciation color gratitude thankfulness rainbow richelle richelle-goodrich
Gratitude paints little smiley faces on everything it touches.
Richelle E. GoodrichTag: smile appreciation gratitude gratefulness thankfulness richelle richelle-goodrich
One grateful thought is a ray of sunshine. A hundred such thoughts paint a sunrise. A thousand will rival the glaring sky at noonday - for gratitude is light against the darkness.
Richelle E. GoodrichTag: sun darkness light appreciation gratitude gratefulness richelle sunrise richelle-goodrich
The glory of fame isn't in having so many people know you, but in having so many people know you care. Otherwise, it's like being drawn to a fire to find no warmth.
Richelle E. GoodrichTag: success kindness empathy fame sympathy fire caring warmth care esteem richelle richelle-goodrich
If you avoid all of life's abrasions you will never be polished enough to shine.
Richelle E. GoodrichTag: life life-lessons trials richelle hardships richelle-goodrich abrasions
When you devalue ethics and morals by proclaiming that our attitude toward them should be casual or lenient, you can't be surprised by a rising generation who then behaves disrespectfully, treating life, people, and choices as if they possess little value or worth. For whether or not that was the intention, society has taught them to believe thusly.
Richelle E. GoodrichTag: society morals values respect beliefs richelle disrespect richelle-goodrich
And what about your brother, Agus? Will he be entertaining us with his pipes?”
“Agg,” Shanks rasped, wrinkling his nose. “I didn’t tell you? He ain’t with us no more.” A heavy fist slammed on the arm of the Viidun’s chair as he growled, “The idiot went off and got himself killed!”
“What?” Derian and Eena replied in unison, both horrified by the news.
“You heard me!” Shanks bellowed. “The crazy fool should’ve known when to duck. He died in a bloody challenge with some brainless Deramptium! A downright disgraceful way to die! I’m ashamed to say he was my brother!”
“That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” Eena muttered, mostly speaking to Derian.
“What was that?” the Viidun demanded.
Derian whispered a hush to Eena. Addressing Shanks, he expressed their condolences. “We are truly sorry for your loss. Your brother will be sorely missed. On the other hand, we look forward to welcoming you and your crew aboard the Kemeniroc.” Derian held up his right hand, extending his thumb and two adjoining fingers. “Strength, truth, and honor, friend,” he said, ending their conversation.
“Strength, truth, and honor,” Shanks repeated.
The screen went black. The captain turned to Eena who was still in shock.
“You have to understand,” he explained, “the Viiduns are a fiercely competitive people with proud, warring ways. Their culture doesn’t call for much sympathy, especially when it appears one of their own has failed to live up to expectations.”
Eena was still disturbed by the lack of compassion. “But that was his brother.”
“I know. I can hardly believe it myself. Shanks and Agus were very close. They traveled everywhere together. All I can figure is it’s easier for Shanks to express his anger than his anguish.”
“After all that, I’m not sure I want to meet him in person. He scares me,” she admitted.
Derian laughed. “He scares everyone. That’s why you want to keep him as an ally and not make him an enemy.
Tag: warrior richelle shanks richelle-goodrich eena derian agus viidun
Have you ever felt as if your dreams were more memorable, more alive, than what you knew to be reality? Have your dreams ever seemed so tangible as to make you question upon waking if you’d truly only dreamt them? Have they at times been addictive enough to consume your waking hours; blurring actuality and pretend together until your wishes and passions stare back at you with open eyes?
If only dreams could be reality, that beautiful garden of sweet-smelling roses we all long for. But reality for me is no such bed of roses. It is nothing but a field of unwanted dandelions."
- From the thoughts of Annabelle Fancher
Tag: dreams fantasy child-abuse abuse dandelions richelle annabelle richelle-goodrich annabelle-fancher
My fingers combed through my dark hair, short and straight, landing in choppy, uneven ends nearly level with my chin. The color reminded me of every evil character in any fairy tale. It seemed all were characteristically black; black hair, black eyes, black clothing, black demeanor, and black intent. I never thought I was truly a villainous character, not like I knew my father to be, but I was his offspring and devoid of any princess-like characteristics, so that left only the wicked side of the story to play.
In my dreams, though, I imagined myself more like Snow White―wavy, raven hair, a perfectly fair complexion, bathed in rose scents, and exhibiting a natural feminine grace that would dance musical circles around both Ginger and Elizabeth. No, I never hoped for such a thing to be real, but I dared to pretend it with perfect clarity in my dreams.
Tag: black wishful-thinking dandelions richelle annabelle richelle-goodrich
He panted over me, winded by his own absurd lecture. The stench of his alcoholic breath stung my nose. Again I didn’t answer. I hoped he’d tire out and end his speech and hobble back to the living room without touching me. Such hopes were unlikely, as was the case this time.
“Answer me, you good-for-nuthin’ wench!”
The pain bit instantly as his hand connected with my cheek. I shook my head in answer to his crazy questions, feeling a rise of warm tears.
Tag: fear alcoholism child-abuse abuse dandelions richelle annabelle richelle-goodrich
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