“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
Are there really? From the expression of Edwin Booth on this 1866 playbill from the New York Public Library’s digital collection, he looks like he’s thinking that might not be such a good thing. I first encountered Hamlet’s sentiment in an eighth grade English class. I always thought it strange that he would feel the need to say it when both he and Horatio have just seen and heard the ghost of Hamlet’s dead father. It is a line that has stayed with me fifty years later as I have pondered just what those “things” might be. Those things we can only detect through a mind open to the possibility of the sixth sense or extrasensory perception (ESP).
There are nine types of ESP that, when explained, show how being attuned to the feelings and/or our surroundings, ESP feels quite logical and for a writer pretty darned cool elements to incorporate into a story.
Precognition – The ability to see into the future.
Retrocognition – The ability to see into the distant past.
Clairvoyance – The ability to see events without being physically present.
Mediumship – The ability to communicate with spiritual world and talk to the deceased.
Clairsentience – The ability to feel the emotions of others.
Clairaudience – The ability to receive messages and information through “psychic hearing”.
Telepathy – The ability to read the minds of others and know what they’re thinking.
Clairalience – The ability to get psychic impressions from the sense of smell.
Clairgustance – The paranormal ability to taste a substance without putting it in mouth.
Check out this link if you’d like more detail on them: https://www.psychics4today.com/types-extrasensory-perception/
Hamlet and Horatio experienced mediumship. I wonder if during the African-American walking tour I did last Fall I didn’t experience it as well. Was it only my vivid imagination that allowed me to feel, see and hear the spirits of those Africans and African Americans striving for freedom, for a better life?
Why can’t a person be so sensitive to another person’s body language that they can feel what someone is feeling? Couldn’t you be so knowledgeable about a place, an era and particular events that when you’re in that place you can connect to the energy still inhabiting that place and see what took place there as if you had actually been present?
A smell, a sound, a taste can thrust us back to a moment and cause us to from the past only be stored in memory?
What if we intentionally trained ourselves to use our five sense to their fullest capacity? It’s a myth we only use 10% of our brains, but I’m willing to bet we’re only fully focused and intentional is using our brains 10% of the time. What if we could harness our ability to see, hear, taste, smell and touch to the point where we transcended time and space?
Being in the moment doesn’t only have to mean we’re only aware of what’s here and now. William Faulkner wrote “The past isn’t dead. It isn’t even past.” Being in the moment also means being aware of what came before and by extension what might be to come. I like to think so. How about you?
Better To Marry Than To Burn
Freed Man seeking woman to partner in marriage for at least two years in the black township of Douglass, Texas. Must be willing and able to help establish a legacy. Marital relations as necessary. Love neither required nor sought.
Caesar King’s ad for a mail-order bride is an answer to Queen Esther Payne’s prayer. Her family expects her to adhere to society’s traditional conventions of submissive wife and mother, but Queen refuses. She is not the weaker sex and will not allow herself to be used, abused or turned into a baby-making machine under the sanctity of matrimony. Grateful that love is neither required nor sought, she accepts the ex-slave’s offer and heads West for marriage on her terms.
Her education and breeding will see to that. However, once she meets Caesar, his unexpected allure and intriguing wit makes it hard to keep love at bay. How can she hope to remain her own woman when victory may be synonymous with surrender?
With thanks to God, he pushed past her flimsy drawers to the moist welcome of her center. Her vaginal walls gripped his fingers with surprising force. No amount of twisting or turning wrenched them free. God, to have that grip surrounding his shaft.
He pulled back and studied her face. Eyes still closed, a sly smile bowed her perfect lips. She enjoyed this battling as much as he.
“Was I too brutal for your enjoyment, Mrs. King?”
Her eyelids rose with the slow grace of sunrise. A gleam as sly as her smile shone in her gaze. “You call that brutal, Mr. King?”
She unclenched her lower muscles, allowing his fingers momentary retreat. With great care, she grasped his hand then slid his fingers between her folds once more.
“Holy Christ, woman. What—?”
The gentle rubbing robbed him of his ability to think.
“Jesus, have mercy,” he wheezed.
She slid his fingers from her wet sex into his mouth. He moaned, lost in her delectable taste.
Without taking her gaze from his face, she raked her gloved hand down his chest, across his belly, to his groin. Anticipation tensed his muscles in the wake of her touch. He watched mesmerized as, with a practiced ease, she unbuttoned his fly, pushed past the fabric, sought, found and stroked his cock. Her woolen gloves imparted a delicious friction he couldn’t oppose, even if he’d wanted. Delight enlivened every muscle in his body, including his jaded heart.
Jesus. This couldn’t be more than arousal. Could it?
Her fingers squeezed and his body arched upward on the yes swelling his spirit with joy. He threw back his head, mouth open, ready to shout as he neared the point of release.
Then she let him go.
He doubled over, slain by the abandonment. His lungs constricted, bereft of air. Reason deserted him too.
She stood and smoothed down her skirts with the hand that had massaged his shaft more deftly than he ever had. Reseated, she grabbed the reins and snapped the leather against his horse’s rump.
“Get up there.”
The wagon jostled Caesar from side to side. Still unable to straighten up, he looked into eyes gleaming with triumph. Her lips curved in a regal smirk.
“Was I too brutal for your enjoyment, Mr. King?”
Wild Rose Press: https://www.thewildrosepress.com/books/better-to-marry-than-to-burn