As a Multiple Sclerosis patient, it has become necessary for me to reinvent myself. I have ... and continue to ... refuse to lie down and die, or in this case, follow the normally prescribed drugs and treatments that do nothing to defeat my disease. I am not only surviving by pursuing alternatives, I am thriving. I do the things specialists told me I would never be able to do. I walk and hope to one day even run regularly. I retain my cognitive and creative abilities for the pleasure of my readers. Although you may never see me on my daily walk, you are welcome to read my novel(s) and in doing so, come to ask yourself, "How can the 'out of the box' protocol she has followed, help my loved one with an autoimmune disease like Multiple Sclerosis?"


Sizzling Kiss Entry

(Please note: this is a second entry by an author so it is not elegible to win any prize.)

I reached up and traced the planes of his face, a face I’d seen a million times in my waking dreams. He leaned into my touch with a sigh and I knew the feeling was igniting the same burning desire in him as it was me, but I also knew he would not close the small distance to kiss me because he promised he wouldn’t, and I thought, Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t make the same promise. I kissed him.

It was full of passion and longing as all the feelings we had suppressed came bubbling to the surface. His strong arms pulled me closer, encircling me with his strength and warmth. It was different than our first kiss: Our first kiss was new and carefree. This was full of understanding and desperation, of knowing and need. It was also full of love; I loved him with every fiber of my being. I wanted him to know how much I loved him and that I would carry it with me forever.

Our souls, our bodies, were meant for each other and yet our time was limited.

He pulled away just long enough to whisper, “I love you so much.”

His lips were on mine again kissing fervently knowing we shouldn’t but at the moment not caring. I dug my nails into his back as my heart and body ached for more. He wrapped his strong hands around my waist and with one quick motion lifted me to his lap with no effort. I sat straddling him, his arms around my waist and mine around his neck. I knew I should leave before we went any further, yet I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. But eventually he did.

We sat there still intertwined breathing heavily, resting our foreheads on each other. I looked down, my hair a dark veil encircling our faces. He lifted his head and tucked my fallen hair behind my ear, letting his fingers run through it until it came down to my elbow. I watched his fingers as they traced down my arm to my hand; all the while, golden specs danced. He interlaced his fingers with mine. That’s what our souls were: interlaced—a bond, a connection that would always be there even when we let go. I felt a single tear fall down my cheek. It landed on our joined hands. He looked up with concern, then I saw understanding sweep his features along with pain, pain that mirrored mine.

“I know,” he said, slowly nodding. “I know this doesn’t change our world. Two people in love can’t change the way our society has been functioning for hundreds of years.”

“No, it can’t. We still have a duty. A purpose…”
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