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81 pages

English

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Publié par	Xlibris US
Date de parution	07 mars 2008
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781669872931
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

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Quieting the Storm
New Edition
Shelley Parsons

Copyright © 2008 by Shelley Parsons.b

ISBN:
Softcover
978-1-4363-1894-5

eBook
978-1-6698-7293-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 03/31/2023

Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
579398
Contents
Foreword
Introduction

Chapter 1:Unacceptance
Chapter 2:Betrayal
Chapter 3:Motives
Chapter 4:Rose
Chapter 5:Cecile
Chapter 6:Hate
Chapter 7:And It Goes On
Chapter 8:Confusion
Chapter 9:Anger
Chapter 10:Jealousy
Chapter 11:The Path
Chapter 12:Fame
Chapter 13:Love
Chapter 14:The Date
Chapter 15:Second Chance
Chapter 16:Letting Go
Chapter 17:The Challenge
Chapter 18:The Past
Chapter 19:Waking Up
Chapter 20:The Visit
Chapter 21:The Long Ride Home
Chapter 22:The Transition
Chapter 23:Confrontation
Chapter 24:The New Generation
Chapter 25:Humility
Chapter 26:Star
Chapter 27:The Light

Acknowledgements
Dedication
To the Angels that walk on feet.—Cole Parsons, my husband; Twila Balara, my mother; Jo Ann Hicks, my grandmother; Elena Knott, my aunt; Judy Hart, my cousin; Dartagnan and Holiday, my wonderful children; and Lamar Balara, my brother, Ondre Madison, my cousin. Each of you provided unconditional support and love in your own special way.
Foreword
Quieting the Storm is a fictional work based on the trials and tribulations brought on by everyday life. Not all people are the same, nor are they raised the same from childhood; however, they all seek guidance and love from those around them. We may not receive these things in the package that was given to us, but in Quieting the Storm, the reader is able to see that love comes around in the least expected moments. Quieting the Storm is written in everyday language with a spiritual slant. I think everyone has a belief in a higher power, no matter what their religion, but sometimes we find ourselves asking, “Why me?” Although we do not have all the answers, it is powerful to believe that our misfortunes and pain were meant for some bigger purpose. No one will really ever understand and know the actual reality of the Universe, but sometimes if we take a closer look and connect the dots, we can fit the pieces of the puzzle.
As a writer, for me it is my goal to incorporate certain ideas and philosophies of life’s mysteries into literature. I am hoping to give the audience a clear view of what life might be if we had a road map and written guidelines to our individual purpose. Maybe at these moments of introduction, when we meet certain people or experience certain problems, they would not be as difficult to deal with because we knew the situation beforehand. Free will is a gift that blesses us with the choices that we are able to make on our own accord. Sometimes we do not see how we have caused specific situations and people to become part of our lives. Quieting the Storm is a microscope, meant to analyze the miniscule of debris and cause us to ask ourselves “What if?” I hope readers can see themselves as these characters, place themselves in the same situations, and wonder what would they do? How would they feel? Looking into the characters’ personalities, readers may find themselves feeling disdain, but if they look closer, at times it may be compassion they feel. We must learn that not everyone can handle responsibility of another’s happiness and evolvement.
The narrative voice in Quieting the Storm belongs to the main character, Quiet. As readers take in the story, they may forget about her name and become engulfed in her life. However, the name Quiet is a metaphor. Whenever a person grows up without a nurturing environment, whether it is sexual, mental, physical, or any other type of abuse, they are probably prone to lose a little light. Sometimes in these cases, we will see withdrawal that is lead by the silence of one’s soul. We often see these examples of someone who may not be vocal enough when they really needed to be heard. We may not go out for sports, homecoming court, chorus, cheerleading, promotions, or speak to that special someone who makes us feel good inside just by the way they walk past us every day. Courage is lost, and somehow in this big world we are lost in the shuffle and become still while everyone around us is moving fast. It is in these moments when we then become “Quiet.”
As Quieting the Storm progresses, the reader will come to know the intent of the book and be surprised by the many twists and turns this novel has to offer. Moreover, as the author, my aim for this fictional drama was meant for the audience to finish the last word and look around to see the bigger picture in the midst of all the anger, desperation, loneliness, and despair. Perhaps instead of holding a grudge, we can forgive. Maybe in the midst of rejection, we can make peace. Maybe in the eyes of jealousy, we can find humbleness. I hope that in the end, we will find understanding.
Introduction
The air was cool for Louisiana. Summers were usually long and sticky. Sophia stood by the lake, waiting to see if a fish would jump out of the water right into her little hands, while she talked about how she saw it at the picture show. I told her that stuff was make-believe.
Sophia never listened. Daddy had her believing she was the alpha and the omega, the be all and end all. She was a pretty girl, prettier than Sister and me. Mother would always say, “Quiet, you know if you lose a little weight and fix your hair up a little bit you would be really pretty.” She would say when I had lost fifteen pounds and thought my hair was looking like Vanessa Williams. Mother, would never be satisfied with my looks.
Sophia had long, straight, coal black hair, almost like an Indian. Instead of having dark skin, her skin was pale, almost like a white woman’s. I used to put Sister’s body powder on my face so Mother would adore me like Sophia. Sister, the oldest of us kids, would look at me laughing and say, “You can’t make two chickens cluck the same. They come from two different eggs.” Then she would give me a kiss.
Sister loved me, and she loved Sophia, too, but I never felt like she loved one of us more than she loved the other. Sister was ten years older than I was. I was the middle child, ten years old. Sophia was one year behind me.
Daddy always joked, saying, “Sophia was a sweet mistake.” Supposedly, Mother forgot to take her pill, and there was something about Daddy, coming in late. Mother always fought with Daddy about where he had been, but Daddy always fixed the fight with some late night loving. That is how Sophia was conceived. All I knew was that I wished Daddy had come home early that night.
“Quiet, why are you over here by yourself?” Sister peered down at me.
“Daydreaming,” I replied as I looked up at her caramel coated face. Daddy said we were his favorite colored candies. Sister was caramel, Sophia was white chocolate, and I was pecan. If you ask me, Daddy preferred white chocolate, on account that Sophia seemed to be his favorite.
“You’re always daydreaming, Quiet. Why don’t you let me in on some of that fantasy,” Sister asked as she sat down next to me. We gazed into the sky.
Sister thought she was slick. I knew she was easing her way close to me so she could tell me about her boyfriend. You know, everyone needs someone to talk to. I suppose they are going to get married since I heard Daddy and Mother talking in the kitchen.
Daddy said Sister did not need to marry that “retarded boy.” He said Sister was just trying to get out of the house.
Mother said Daddy needed to stop calling people retarded. She also told him that the boy was very intelligent and would graduate from medical school in the fall. He was going to be a doctor, and Sister needed to grab this opportunity as soon as she could. She may not ever get another chance to live a good life and have a lot of money.
“Sister, are you going to marry that retarded boy?” I asked.
Sister grabbed my hand and looked at me in amazement. “Quiet, are you talking about Jimmy? Jimmy’s not retarded.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“Well, you heard wrong,” Sister replied. Sister knew I was young and jealous. Jealous because she was leaving the house. Jealous, I was not leaving. Jealous, Jimmy was taking my beloved sister from me.
Sister let go of my hand and told me to look up at the sky. “Don’t stop dreaming, Quiet. I know one day your dreams are going to take you to a place as high as that cloud right there.”
I looked at the cloud, and it seemed as though a storm was riding in. I knew then that my life was going to be a quiet storm.
“Don’t you have any dreams of your own, Sister?”
Sister just laughed with that halfway smile and said, “You can’t make two chickens cluck the same, Quiet