Dear readers, today's book spotlight is on a recently released soft, romantic contemporary fiction titled "Why She Left Us" by author David Dennis. This novel is available at Barnes & Noble, Amazon stores.
From the author's desk
David Dennis (pen name for David D.
D'Aguanno) is a retired English teacher who did most of his writing during the
1980s while on summer vacations. Upon the urging of various friends and
relatives, he has recently reworked his earlier writings and is now making them
available to a wider audience. The author has also written a series of
comedy-mysteries featuring a character by the name of Brett Cornell
("Brett Gets Hammered" & others), which interested readers can
find on various sites (Amazon, Barnes & Noble) as well.
Connect with author David Dennis
Twitter:
@DaveDAguanno
Facebook: www.facebook.com/WhySheLeftUs
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/7618068-dave-d-aguanno
Book Spotlight : Online purchase links, excerpt highlights
Author : David Dennis
Genre : Contemporary Fiction
Publication Date : December 3, 2012 at Amazon
Amazon Kindle store : http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AHYQ7LA
Amazon Paperback : http://www.amazon.com/dp/1480251577
Barnes & Noble (Nook) : http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/why-she-left-us-david-dennis/1113891906
Excerpt from Why She Left Us
There is no reason for it either. It’s unfathomable, inexplicable that
this love should have come over me as it has; and just as I expected, I am
unable to deal with it and have now begun to wonder if I should seek to cast it
off as an undesirable invasion of the safety and serenity that have always
clothed my existence up until now. I know nothing of such matters. I am
completely naïve and inexperienced as to the ways a woman adopts in her efforts
to please the man she loves. This feeling I have within me may very well never
even have the chance to blossom forth, as I am sure my sheer ineptitude and
awkwardness will doom it to failure.
Oh, dear Lord, what am I to do? I have spent this entire day thinking about
him, fantasizing what it will be like when he returns – if he returns! But
nothing material has resulted from any of this. I am alone in this house right
now, just as I was alone all day long, although a number of familiar faces were
around me from time to time. I am still alone, and I long for the unexpected,
knowing that I am doomed in so wishing something to happen that will, no doubt,
never happen at all.
He will not come back. This longing inside of me will never be appeased.
It will simply remain there, stagnant and distressing and unsettling – yet, at
the same time, so sweet and uplifting that it frightens me. When I woke early
this morning and realized that I had actually fallen in love with him, I had
such an extreme desire to do some good on this earth. I sprang out of bed,
threw on some rags, and went outside to do the gardening that Wayne was to have
done. I would have painted the whole house, too, except that he had taken
everything with him in his van when he left our house yesterday, and I didn’t
have enough money to go to the hardware store. And since it was Saturday, I
couldn’t gain access to the money I have in my account.
So, I just went out
there on my hands and knees and did all the gardening that needed to be done. I
even relished doing it, too, because I kept saying to myself: If Wayne does
come back and finds that I’ve done all of the gardening for him, maybe he’ll
smile at me. God, he might even look right at me. Then I would see the color of
his eyes and the glow of his emotions and the piercing and blinding light of
his soul. Maybe he’ll come back here unexpectedly and find me here on my hands
and knees. And maybe he’ll then put his strong, pure hands under my elbows and
lift me up from the ground and tell me that I have found favor in his sight. In
his sight, yes, because he’ll be looking directly into my eyes as he tells me
this. And then I’ll laugh and tell him that I’m doing all of this for him and
that, in doing it for him, it affords me the greatest possible joy. And then
it’ll be his turn to laugh, and he’ll suggest that we do the rest of the
gardening together, and the two of us will sink to our hands and knees and dip
our hands into the dirt. Together.
Later on, I fancied, I would step into the garden against the side of
the house while Wayne wasn’t looking. In that garden grow the most gentle and
delicate white roses I have ever seen. There is one in particular that is
scarcely more than a bud, but it is pure and unblemished and, as yet, untouched
by human hands. That is the rose I would pluck, while he wasn’t looking, and it
is that rose that I would offer him, quietly and gently, without having to say
a single word to him because my soul, not my lips, would be speaking to him as
I extended the pure, white rose and watched him take it from me and place it
between the curls of his blond hair. And it would stay there for the next few
days so that I could always see it there and be reminded of the beautiful
intimacy of that moment.
We both would be silent, too, if by chance we were to find a fresh,
clear fountain of distilled water in an imaginary park very far from here – a
park that exists only in one’s dreams. We would dip our hands into the fountain
and cleanse them of all of the soil from the garden. Then, still without saying
a word, I would dip my whole body into that holy fountain so that all my past
sins would be wiped away; and in that one instant, I could stand before him in
total purity, I myself a pure, white rose freshly plucked, and I would extend
my heart to him and watch silently as he took it and pressed it against his
own, and our two hearts would be joined forever.
I would like to kiss the earth at this time; and if it were humanly
possible, I would kiss the sun. There is so much that is beautiful, so much
that is heart-stopping in its gorgeous simplicity, so much that I want to share
with this man. If God would only let me have the opportunity to do this! If
only I could see him again! Just once! I want to open so many doors for him. I
want him to be able to see the light of Heaven, to breathe its untainted scent
into his lungs, and to hear the divine music that is now in my soul – the music
that is known only to angels. I want to give him my hands so that he can press
them between his own, my face so that he can hold it against his chest, my
heart so that he can consecrate it with his love, and my soul so that he can
unite it with his own. These are the fantasies and dreams that form the
substance of my longing – a longing which my rational mind tells me can never
be pacified. Not in the real world we are all forced to inhabit.
1 comment:
Beautiful writing David. YOu just translated what love feels like and painted pictures with your words. Well done, and a great tease for, Why She Left Us.
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