Selfie – Room 101

Bloody awful stuff

Advertisements

I haven’t done this for a while.  101 words.  Sometimes a beginning, sometimes an end.  Or even a frustratingly pointless middle.


Breathing heavily, legs burning, Ben caught sight of himself reflected in the mirror.

“God I look good” he thought sweeping back his mop of thick black hair.  His jaw clenched as he thrust harder, hypnotised by his own perfect image and his body glistening with sweat.

Without breaking rhythm he picked up his phone to take a picture.  “Don’t mind do you Kate?” he asked smiling as he raised it high above his head for the perfect downward angle.  He wanted to remember this.

“Smile” he said grabbing Kate’s hair and pulling back her head to reveal her glazed, lifeless eyes…

 

 

 

 

 

Jessica – Room 101

Just a quickie

I haven’t done this for a while.  101 words.  Sometimes a beginning, sometimes an end.  Or even a frustratingly pointless middle.


Night fell, the full moon streamed through the slits in the ragged curtains.  Jessica pulled the blankets over her face and waited.  Adrenaline coursed through her, fear gripping her tight as she picked out cautious footsteps crunching through the coarse gravel outside her window.

“She’s inside” she heard Monsignor whisper.

“We need to hurry” came a reply.  It was her father.

Floorboards creaked as she watched the moonlight crawl slowly up the bed towards her.  Her heartbeat slowed, her eyes narrowed and she lowered the blanket, smiling.

“On three” came her father’s voice outside the door.

Jessica was ready in two…

 

 

 

 

 

Harvest – Room 101

Just a quickie

I haven’t done this for a while.  101 words.  Sometimes a beginning, sometimes an end.  Or even a frustratingly pointless middle.


“Are they ready?” Drax asked as they passed silently through space in the shadow of the moon.

“They are” replied Altama.  She spread her tentacles and began to purr as she bathed in the glorious warmth of the sun.

“Anything to be concerned over?”

She laughed and watched him unfurl, his flesh pulsing iridescent as he warmed after so long in the cold of deep space.

“No.  They are ready to be harvested.”

So many lifetimes had passed in getting here and now he felt suddenly alive.  Suddenly hungry.

“Good”  Drax replied as he turned towards Earth.  “It’s time to feed.“

Happy Never After – Room 101

Just a quick 101 words

I haven’t done this for a while.  101 words.  Sometimes a beginning, sometimes an end.  Or even a frustratingly pointless middle.


With rain running down her face Maria smiled as she remembered that first meeting.    Mother said that she’d know when she met the one.  Mother was right.

She loved his charm, that assured way he walked over and god that confidence. Her pulse still raced at the thought, the way he looked at her with those dark eyes and the things she felt when he placed his hand unexpectedly on her arm.  He was intoxicating and too delicious to resist.

“I wonder if he has a brother?” She thought tipping the final shovel of soil over his face and walking away…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Beyond the night sky

In space nobody can hear your thrumbus go sploosh…

I wrote a bunch of prompts you can read about the process here.  This is my response to one of them.


Gentrax wiped his brow as she entered the room.  There was a look in her eye and a sway in her gait that told him that it was time.  She was ready.  As she crossed the floor towards him he gulped and stared and watched with a hunger at the way Dorenta’s thrumbus pulsated with vivid green’s and blue’s.

Tonight would be the night that their clanbond would finally be fulfilled and he would take his rightful place in the glorious caves of the forefathers .

Standing before him she spread wide her trill and licked her lips.  The moonlight flooding into the room through the opening high in the cave ceiling made her scales flash irredescent.  “Present yourself” she said with an intensity in her eyes that left him breathless.

Gentrax stood from where he lay on the mat of rushes that he had spent the afternoon preparing.  His chest rose and fell and his skellit rattled, warm and moist, and she circled him drawing a clawed talon across his splintle.  He bit his lip as pleasure flooded through his body.

“Are you my betrothed?” she asked standing so close that he could almost taste her.

He answered as taught by the shamen.  “I am your betrothed and my body is yours.”

Gentrax smiled as she cupped his floosh, gently at first, and then squeezed until he winced.

“Impressive” she said as her thrumbus turned a dark crimson.

She was pleased , Gentrax told himself,  and if she was pleased then surely he would prove worthy.  She released him and then pulled him into her forcefully.  Her body hypnotic as she moved, as if to the very rhythm of the passage of time itself.  The curves of her body brushed against him and his tongue snaked from between his lips hungry for the taste of her.

“I am yours” he hissed as she lay on the rush bed and becloned form him to join her.

His skellit was already in full bloom, the lips pink and full.  She presented her trill, it’s small sharp teeth glistening in the moon light.  “Lie with me” she demanded.

Gentrax prostrated himself next to her and felt the weight of her against his back.  Pleasure coursed through his body as his floosh opened wide and its musky aroma filled the cave.

“You are ripe indeed” she said as she took his skellit deep inside her.  He felt the small teeth grip him tight and the mox of pain and pleasure left him breathless.  Her talons dug into his shoulders and he cried out as he felt her trill sever his skellit.

“Sweet delight” he mumbled as she rose up over him, her thrumbus now inky black as the night sky.   Talons pushed further into him and he began to bleed, the thick green life blood seeping through the reeds and onto the dusty cave floor.

“You are my betrothed” she roared as his eyes widened and his floosh exploded from between the spines on his back, his precious life giving nectar pooling between his scales for her to devour.

She licked her lips and leanign forward hungrily consumed it before again leanign over him, her mouth next to his ear.

“You have served me well my love” she said, her voice low and little more than a whisper.   Her jaw widened and her eyes rolled back into her head as he smiled knowing that he had proven worthy.

As she removed his head he rejoiced as he knew his race was run and tonight he would join the forefathers.

 

 

The Last Summer

As summer’s end draws near my thoughts turn once more to you. 

I wrote a bunch of prompts you can read about the process here.  This is my response to one of them.


As summer’s end draws near my thoughts turn once more to you.  Though my memories fade into sepia tones you remain as vibrant as the day I first laid eyes on you.  So full of life you sparkled like the stars and oh how I recall that first time I saw you and just being in the same room as you simply took my breath away.

I remember your smile, and oh god the way you smelled.  Vanilla and violets, you left me heady and desperate for more of you.  Something.  Anything.  Intense and raw and without constraint we lived and  loved I swear even now were you here my heart would near burst at the sight of you.  No matter how many summers pass into autumn I remember you so very clearly still.

When all else has faded to grey I know I will still have you, and our sweetest of moments will linger, and I will close my eyes and see you lying beside me, the morning sun on your pale skin as you sleep.

Time steals such precious moments as thrill our hearts today and I hold evermore tight as all else slips from my grasp.  The way you move and the sweetness of you voice.  Even more sweet embrace after such longing when apart.

All these things are treasures beyond compare and bring such joy, though sadness often lingers close behind.  Green to gold the seasons turn and as I sit looking out I see the tree, old and gnarled and bark scarred as deep as my soul.  The place where you sat so many lazy crazy days.

The place where you now rest.

A symbol of my obsession, of my regret, and where hidden you lie alone in cold, hard ground.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fatties in Space – Part 5

I missed them so they’re back for another brief outing. as a prelude to something else.

Part 1 is here, Part 2 can be found here and part 3 is right here. Oh and here is part 4…

It’s best to read those first if you like poems and such about fat people shagging in space. Yes I know that’s not a real thing but its just a bit of fun. Use your imagination. 🙂


Time advances, desire, smoulders where once was fire

and our couple are settled, content

And theyre into a groove, life, careers on the move

at they end of their day both feel spent

And they slip into bed, where once passions burned red

a nice book, cup of tea, striped pj’s

And he turns, to suggest, and caresses her breast

but alas now asleep, snores away

And he gives her a nudge says “I ain’t packed your fudge,

sixty nined or devoured you for weeks.

Ive not sampled your breasts dumped my load on your chest

left hand marks on your plump bottom cheeks”

She insists thats it’s fine, they’ve just not had the time

but tomorrow for sure, it’s a date

so he lies in the dark seems they’ve just lost their spark

rubs one out as he just cannot wait

Then he ponders their lot, wonders how they’ve forgot

the wild nights here on earth and in space

and he vows to do better, make his heart’s true love wetter

falls asleep as he caresses her face

Electric Dreams

Part of a thing that might be part of another thing. It probably needs an ending or another part or a first part really…

I wrote a bunch of prompts you can read about the process here.  This is my response to one of them.


Benton turned in his seat looking over towards where Blake the OpsCom stood hands on hips staring at the bank of screens.  A hundred different images flashed before him and his gaze flitted from one to the next searching desperately.

“Sir we have her on screen forty seven now, she’s in 1692.  Status red.  She is way off of her time line and it looks like she’s got herself into some real trouble.”

“Jesus Christ” exclaimed Blake stepping forward.  “Bring her up on main comms.  Full resolution, all channels.”

Benton’s fingers flashed across the keyboard and the image jumped to two large screens on the wall above the array of smaller ones.  The screen crackled with interference and the sound was patchy, but from their angle they could see a grey sky swirling above a thick crowd in front of a large oak tree.  There were probably thirty people all told, all dressed in little more than rags and the signs of hard and desperate lives etched across their gaunt faces.

The wind whipped autumn leaves around their feet and dirty faced children huddled against their parents as a larger, round bellied ruddy cheeked man came into view.  Dressed all in black save for the crisp white collared tunic beneath his heavy brass butoned jacket a number of mothers pulled their children close as he stood and stared.

“Are you certain this is Cassie’s feed? Can we get boots on the ground?” Blake asked, panic in his voice.

Benton shook his head.  “It is her sir weve have the genesis protocols in place and confirmed but we can’t get assets in place in less that 30.  We’d need to recalibrate the chamber and we don’t even have a full geolocation.  She’s somewhere on the east coast but she’s so far out of time the techs can’t get a solid ping.  Her tracker is bouncing all over the place.”

Blake remembered his training.  “Officers never run” he told himself.  Dont scare the troops and all that but it was easier said than done though.  It was his wife out there and every sinew in his body told him to run like hell.   “Order Brave team to suite up anyway” Blake instructed. “And tell the techs to get the chamber ready and to get me that geolock asap.  Nothing else tops this.”

Benton nodded.  “Sir, yes sir.”

Blake looked at his watch as the image blurred and then sharpened again.  The man grinned a black toothed smile and licked his lips slowly.   His bulbous and heavily veined nose gave away his love of liquor and the tight fitting tunic was a certain sign of priviledge and power.

“I will ask you just once more” he shouted with a flourish of his hand in which he held a heavy leather bound book which Blake assumed to be a bible.  “You will tell us where you came from and how you know of these things of which you speak.  They say you dream of these things and cry out in the night as if haunted by the dark one himself.”

“She bears the mark” a stooped old woman in the crowd shouted shaking a stick on which she had been leaning.  “And I hear her speak of metal birds that fly and horseless carriages that speed across the land.”

The man raised his hands to the sky.  “She claims to know that which no man can know” he proclaimed and the crowd murmered.  The screen shook momentarily as a stone was thrown that seemed to strike her in the chest.

“Christ Cassie what are you doing there” Blake shouted desperately as the screen panned down and he could see her bare feet where she stood on a pile of wood.  Blake turned his eyes wide and panicked breathign heavily.  “Benton come on man, get me that geo lock now damn it.  We need to get her out of there before they…”

“Sir the techs have said they cannot get a lock.  She’s not showing up in any of the known time streams.  She’s invisible to us and without the lock we cant pull her out.”

“How the hell can she now be showing up?  We’re getting her feed aren’t we.  She’s there.  We can bloody well see her.”

Benton lowered his eyes and tapped at his keyboard as Blake returned his gaze to the screens.

“Where is your tongue woman” the fat bellied man barked, “do you not know the punishment that awaits you?  Have you nothign to say for yourself?  Does the old woman tell the truth?”  He turned to the crown and raised the book in his hand and they cackled and began to shout.  A young boy picked up a stone and pulled back his arm to throw it before his mother grabbed his hand and took it from him sharply.  The screen focussed on her and Blake could see a sadness in her face.

“Benton.  Geolock NOW” he shouted.  “We need to get her out of there before they…”

“If you will say nothing woman then we must assume you cursed” the man shouted spinning around and approaching Cassie.

Cassie seemed to shake her head but said nothing.

“Say something damn it” shouted Blake.  “Do something Cassie you’ve been trained for this.”

Again the screen crackled and blurred and then panned across the crowd as they became more and more agitated and vocal.  Slowly the angry twisted faces came into view and then disappeared until once more only Cassie’s feet could be seen.

“If you will not speak then you will burn” came the now cruel and manic man’s voice.   The crowd bayed and howled as a fiery glow flickeder across the screen.  “You shall return to the place of darkness if you will not repent.”

Blake turned to Benton but Benton just shook his head and looked back down. Fighiting back tears and with clenched fists he turned and walked towards the exit of the room.

“Screens off.  Get me that lock and inform Bravo team to prepare for recovery.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Leaves of Autumn

Gerald stared out across the broad lawn, leaves skipping across the surface as the wind chased them through the garden.

I wrote a bunch of prompts you can read about the process here.  This is my response to one of them.


 

Gerald stared out across the broad lawn, leaves of red, gold and brown skipping across the surface as the wind chased them through the garden.

“Can I get you anything Gerald” a kind faced nurse asked, pulling the rust coloured blanket up onto his lap.

Gerald looked at her over the rim of his glasses for a moment before answering.  “No.  No thank you” he said slowly.   He was pretty certain that she was new but something in the back of his mind told him that he knew her from somewhere.  Somewhere else though.

“Okay dear” she said walking away smiling. “Dinner will be at seven, it’s pork chops tonight, your favourite.”

“Did you hear that Albert?” He asked the man in the blue pyjamas sat next to him.  “It’s pork chops again, third time this week.”

Albert didn’t reply and stared out into the distance.  Albert always stared out into the distance these days though he did enjoy the pork chops.

“Is she a new one Alfred?” Gerald asked him without expecting a response.  “I’m certain she is but she seems to know I like pork chops.”

Albert blinked.

“No I don’t quite remember either” Gerald continued.  “Everything seems a little fuzzy you know.”

Albert blinked again.

“And I’ll tell you another thing, not only are we eating a lot of pork chops Alfred but it seems to have been Autumn for a rather long time.  Do you even remenber when it was anything but Autumn because I don’t.”

Gerald pulled back the blanket from his knees and let it drop to the floor.  There was a word he was looking for but he couldn’t quite find it and then just before he had it he felt it slip through the his grasp like the wind that whistled through the trees outside and teased the leaves until they sailed to the ground.

His old gnarled fingers gripped the arms of the chair as he attempted to lift himself up onto his feet.  He felt a shooting pain in his stomach and stood bent over.

“Gerald, what are you doing?” came the voice of the new nurse before he was able to steady himself.   His legs felt weak, like they hadn’t been used for a long time.  He looked down at them noticing how thin they seemed.

“Come on you” She said placing a hand on his arm and easing him back into the chair.  “Whatever is he like eh Albert?” She asked Albert smiling.

Albert stared straight ahead though Gerald noticed him stiffen ever so slightly.  He didn’t remember much but he didn’t remember Albert being so fat.

“There really is no need to be up and about Gerald whatever is the matter?” She asked sharply.

Gerald tried again to stand but felt once more her arm on his shoulder and this time more forcefully and he sat back in the chair.

“There’s something wrong here” Gerald said as she once again put the blanket on his lap.  “Everything feels wrong, what’s going on?” He demanded.

The nurse’s eyes narrowed and she placed a hand on each of his shoulders as she leaned in towards him.

“Now Gerald let’s not get upset, you know how it effects Albert.  There really is no need to concern yourself and you don’t want to miss out on pork chops tonight now do you?”

She stared deep into his eyes and it sent a chill through him.  He scrambled in the recesses of his mind, everything a blur and tried to remember something, anything.

“What have you done to me?” he whispered as she continued to stare at him, pinning him where he sat.  “What have you done to Albert and why can’t I remember?  Why is it always autumn?”

Albert.  That was it.  He hadn’t always been like this.  It wasnt’t always pork chops and autumn.  Before there used to be…

“Gerald, you really need to settle down” she said, her tone now ominous her smile long gone from her face.  “You’re upsetting Albert see.”

Gerald turned slowly and saw that Albert was staring across at him, tears running down his fat cheeks.

“Albert I…”

Nurse stood upright looking down at him.  Gerald suddenly felt very small and there was a knot in his stomach.

“Now shall I get you those pork chops?” she asked with her fake smile now plastered once more across her face.  “I’ll fetch you some too Alfred.”

Gerald nodded as Albert continued to stare at him before nurse settled Albert back into his chair.  She straightened him up and again he faced the wall as she tucked Albert’s blanket tight around his legs and patted his stomach.

“Albert loves his pork chops don’t you Albert.”

Gerald watched her walk away and push through the double doors at the far end of the room.

“Albert, what’s going on” he whispered.

Albert turned towards him, his eyes wide and breathing heavily.   A mix of pain and fear was etched across his face.

“Christ man what is it” Gerald pressed.  “What’s going on?”

Albert opened his mouth to scream holding his stomach but no sound came out.  His face contorted and eyes bulged as his mouth continued to widen and his face reddened.  His lips, stretched thin,  turned white and then began to bleed as his voiceless scream continued and his eyes began to roll back into his head.

Gerald forced himself from the chair once more, his heart pounding in his chest and his head spinning.  He looked about and began to move as quickly as he could towards the double doors.  His legs felt like they would buckle beneath his as he shuffled in his slippers, and turning back he saw Albert reach out an arm towards him and even in this state it seemed to him to be somethign of a warning.

He slowed as he reached the doors and stood pressed against them, breathing heavily.   Nothing made sense, nothing felt real.  he shot a glance back at Albert and saw he was slumped on the floor in fromt of his chair.  Surely the only thing he could do was to call the nurse.

Gerald reached for the door handle but before he could push through them he heard the voice of the nurse beyond them.

“Just get those pork chops ready” he heard her bark.  “And add extra we need to fatten them up.  The pupae are getting hungry and Albert’s will be ready to hatch before the spring.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Firestorm

It’s funny but when you join up you think it’s going to be endless excitement and adventure, and sometimes it is, but what they don’t tell you is just how much time you’ll spend sitting around.

I wrote a bunch of prompts you can read about the process here.  This is one of them.


>Log date 2243>>

>Location>>>Confidential>>

>Status >>>Transmitting>>>>>

It’s funny but when you join up you think it’s going to be endless excitement and adventure, and sometimes it is, but what they don’t tell you is just how much time you’ll spend sitting around.

‘Hurry up and wait’ seemed to be the mantra most days once we’d finished basic training , and even with all of that down time there wasn’t much to see on Mars at all so when we were posted to the Orion system everyone couldn’t wait to get star side.

We were stationed about five hundred thousand miles off of Rigel because it was a known dropping in point for the Confederacy, and brass figured that it was best to wait for them and hit them as soon as they dropped out of faster-than-light.  What Brass didn’t figure though was that they had the drop on us and when we dropped out they were already there waiting for us with most of their fleet.

They say your training just kicks in instinctively when it needs to but you know, I remember the klaxon’s sounding shrill as we scrambled across the deck and seeing the Aspidistra getting torn to shreds through the hanger doors, and I wanted to be anywhere else.  Jenson didn’t even make it much beyond the main hanger when a Fed ship took him out and most of the lads didn’t suffer much better.

I took a few of them out before I ran out of ammo but they were all over us because nothing had prepared us for just how ferocious and desperate they were.  Picking us off one by one they didn’t seem to have any regard for their own lives and they just wanted us dead.  All forward vessels were taken out within the first few minutes and those of us that scrambled were no match for them.

I was left drifting when my main power drive took a hit and I guess I was lucky because I was dead to rights but just slowly drifted beyond the carnage.  With my comms down and only life support ticking over I watched as a huge nova bomb took out the main attack carriers of the Foreshadowing and the Callista.  In the silence of space they simply evaporated into a billion shards of pulsating light and in a blink of an eye 15000 lives were lost.

I think it’s been five solar cycles since I saw the last of the explosions, time escapes you when you’re drifting through nothingness, and I don’t think anyone is coming to find me.  Power is low and there is less than a few hours left in the reserve tanks.

I’m not sure this will ever reach anyone, it probably won’t, but if it does then tell my folks I’m sorry I ddn’t write more often.

Status >>>Received>>>>>

 

 

 

 

 

 

Captivating confines – Room 101

Just a wee something…

This is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here.  These used to be 101 words.  Sometimes they still are.  Sometimes not.  They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time.  I think for the rest of the month I will do really simple poems…maybe.


 

Soft to the touch plush velvet thick

he wakes, smooth on his face

and all alone heart races quick

and darkness fills the place

He calls but muffled is his voice

And nothing stirs without

In confines tight he strains to move

They cannot hear him shout

Red bleeding nails they scratch and claw

His voice calls loud as thunder

Alone beneath the earth he lies

Just roughly six feet under

 

https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2018/11/01/november-writing-prompts/

 

Lipstick Lover – Room 101

Why not eh…

This is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here.  These used to be 101 words.  Sometimes they still are.  Sometimes not.  They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time.  Mostly though they are just whatever the words inspire.  


Connor stood at the bar and finished his…what was it?  Sixth? Seventh drink?

He wasn’t really sure and to be honest it didn’t really matter and the bar man wasn’t interested as long as he kept paying.  But whichever drink it was he finished it in one and beckoned for another, sliding the glass across the bar top.

“Steady on there cowboy” came a voice as smooth and as sweet as honey.  “Drinking alone will get you in trouble.”

He turned slowly, instincts telling him to play it cool and the booze leaving him unsteady on his feet.

“What if I like trouble” he said placing a hand on the sticky bar top to steady himself.  The barman glanced over and shook his head smiling.  “What if I just enjoy…”  He stopped short.

“What if you just enjoy what?” she said running her hand up his arm.

Perhaps it was the drink, or maybe it was the truth – or at least the sort of truth you believe after however many drinks he had finished – but he was certain that she was the more gorgeous thing he had ever seen.

Short dark wavy hair framed her face and her dark eyes smiled and for a minute it felt like she was looking right into his soul.  It made him uncomfortable and excited at the same time.  Actually mostly he was just excited.

Even in the dark of the bar he could see that beneath her tight red dress she had a body built for sin and the slit in her skirt showed more leg than he’d seen even when he was still married and certainly since.  He couldn’t help but stare at her mouth as she spoke, her lips a bright red in stark contrast to her pale skin.

“Cat got your tongue?” She said smiling.

Christ she smelled good he thought, willing her to bit her lip.  He loved a lip biter.  Chances were he’d explode right where he stood if she did.  He took a breath and offered to buy her a drink.

“Oh I’m not really thirsty” she said edging closer and leaning in to whisper in his ear, her hand on chest and the sweet scent of vanilla filling his senses.

“Now? You sure?”  His heart pounded as she nodded. He turned and gave the barman a thumbs up as she lead him from the bar.  “Still got it” he shouted across the noise of the room.  The barman waved and wiped down the bar top.

Holding her hand her skin was soft and he watched her as she walked just ahead of him, her backside like two kittens fighting in a sack.  He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.  She lead him outside and they slipped down the side of the building and around the back of the bar, neon lighting their way and her heels clicking as they went.

“How’s about here?” she said turning around and pushing him against the wall forcefully,  pressing herself against him.  His hands instinctively reached for her the kittens and he squeezed her as she bit her lip staring at him.

“Oh god” he muttered.

“What’s wrong honey?” she asked, her mouth now just inches from his and her hands on his chest and sliding slowly downwards.  He gasped as he felt her unbuckle his belt and tried to kiss her, hungry to taste her lips.

She pulled back and grinned.  “So You ready then?” she said playfully.  He nodded and closed his eyes, desperate to feel her fingers around him.

She pressed closer still and he felt every curve of her body against his.  He could feel her breath on his lips and he knew that any minute he would feel her soft warm candy red lips.  His hands ran up her back and then back down her sides, resting on her hips, as she pulled down his zip.  God this was really happening he said to himself.  He wanted to touch her, to feel her, explore her.

“I…” he struggled for words as he felt the button of his jeans being opened.

She stopped and took his hand from her hip and steered him to her stomach and then guided him lower still.

“You want it don’t you?” he said staring into her eyes.

She nodded and licked her lips.

Every fibre in his body reacted and he reached under the slit of her skirt, her skin smooth and warm.

“Oh yes baby do it” said kissing closing her eyes.

His heart pounded and he spun her around, reversing their positions and pushing her against the wall.  This was it, he was going to have her.  Right here.  Tight now.

He leaned in and kissed her, lips soft and warm and her tongue already searching for his as their lips met.  His hand slid further under her skirt and she bit his lip playfully groaning as his hand passed over her thigh.

“Yes, oh yes” she said and kissed him back, her stance widening welcoming him between her thighs.  “Touch me.”

As her tongue entered his mouth he closed his eyes and reached for her, hungry to feel how she was responding to him.

“Christ” he said stepping back, the colour draining from his face.  “You…you’re…”

“What’s wrong baby?” she asked running her finger over her lips. “Jealous because it’s bigger than yours?”

The dream of all dreams – Room 101

A thing for Friday

This is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here.  These used to be 101 words.  Sometimes they still are.  Sometimes not.  They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time.  Mostly though they are just whatever the words inspire.  This one goes with this one I did yesterday as I felt they went well together…


 

Stan’s eyes felt heavy, as if pinned down by the weight of the darkness that surrounded him, his head filled with a static that made it hard to think.  Hard to remember.  He could hear a beep, beep, beep as he lay whilst his mind scrambled to piece the shards of remembrances together.

With an effort that took everything he had, he strained against the confusion and managed to pry them open, only to be met by vague and confusing out of focus images.  Wincing he closed them again and succumbed to the comfort of the embracing blackness.

“Where…?” He asked himself, “where is this?” His mouth dry as he struggled to find the right words as a mix of sounds and smells washed over him like the lapping of distant waves.

And then he heard her, feint above the beep, beep, beep, somehow familiar and comforting, and he knew she mattered more than anything, but in a moment as he reached out she was gone, slopping through his fingers like fog.

He opened his mouth to scream, to call her name, but there was nothing there, only a suffocating silence and each breath felt like a fire trapped inside his chest.  Fists clenched he tried to move, to reach out, to grab hold of her and to tell her to wait but she melted into the inky shadows of  his mind as the beep, beep, beep slowed.

Beep

Beep

Beep…

 

 

Petals and Parasols – Room 101

Another thing about stuff and people and more stuff

This is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here.  These used to be 101 words.  Sometimes they still are.  Sometimes not.  They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time.  Mostly though they are just whatever the words inspire.  This one goes with this one I did yesterday as I felt they went well together…


 

Whenever the rain fell he thought of her, of the time they had spent in Paris together and how they had loved without any thought for the repercussions.  To fall so hard and so deep and so very, very quickly was intoxicating and she was a tempest like no one he had ever known .

He remembered the way she looked as she slept, the morning sun golden on her soft pale skin as she lay naked on the bed.  He could still feel her against him when he closed his eyes, the way she smelled and moved.

She made him feel complete and like nothing else mattered, only whatever it was that they were when they were together, which was always.

Watching the rain pool and swirl about his feet he pulled the collar of his coat around his ears and tried to forget the times when the bed was empty, when the clock ticked by as he sat alone and wondered where she was.  She had so many friends, it was understandable because she was pure joy to be around and you could not but help to want to spend time with her.

The rain, cold on his cheeks, mingled with tears as cars drove by splashing onwards through the night and off into the distance.  Standing on the bridge looking out over the Seine feint church bells called out and he saw her face again, filled with the pain and sadness that his jealousy had caused and he recalled with a knot in his stomach how she had begged him to trust her.

Most of all though he remembered the silence that followed her screams…

 

 

A Day of Denial – Room 101

Another thing about stuff and people and more stuff

This is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here.  These used to be 101 words.  Sometimes they still are, like this one.  Sometimes not.  They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time.  Mostly though they are just whatever the words inspire.  This one goes with this one I did yesterday as I felt they went well together…


The sea of smiling faces turned as the doors opened slowly, the first strains of the organ playing.

She was a vision in white but all he could feel was rage.  Rage at the thing inside her, the thing that bound him to her.  Rage at how they valued nothing but money, and who saw him as merely another thing to be possessed.

She smiled at her sister as she approached, another vacuous thing living only to please daddy.  “I should bend her over” he thought to himself smiling.

The music stopped as she took his hand.

“You look beautiful darling.”

 

 

 

 

 

You look beautiful

 

Blushing Brilliance – Room 101

Another thing about stuff and people and more stuff

This is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here.  These used to be 101 words.  Sometimes they still are, like this one.  Sometimes not.  They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time.  Mostly though they are just whatever the words inspire.  This one goes with another to be published tomorrow as I felt they went well together…


As the doors opened she saw him standing there, waiting, smiling.  So very obedient and willing, like a little dog.  He was far from perfect but he would do for now.

She instinctively touched her stomach and breathed deep.  “God it better be a boy” she thought to herself.  That would shut her sister up for sure, her and her watery bollocked husband.  They’d only given him girls and they both knew how much the old man wanted a grand son.

“Ready pumpkin?” he asked, the music playing.  “He’s waiting.”

She squeezed his hand and smiled.

“Thank you daddy, for everything”

 

 

Creatures of curiosity and charisma – Room 101

Another thing about stuff and people and more stuff

This is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here.  These used to be 101 words.  Sometimes they still are.  Sometimes not.  They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time.  Mostly though they are just whatever the words inspire


“There is no chance, none at all” the Great and Mighty insisted as he willed a rather magnificent nebula into existence.  “I know them well and there is more to them than you give them credit for.”

The All Knowing smiled and warmed himself on the majesty of a billion suns before replying, the twinkle of a dying red dwarf in his eyes.

“I think we both know that it is because they are capable of so much that it is likely to come to pass.”

The Great and Mighty made a noise like an imploding sun and added his signature helium spiral to the nebula.

“Looks good” the All Knowing said stepping back to appreciate it for a nanosecond.  “All I am saying mate is that you keep trying and you always end up disappointed.  That is our lot my friend, I do not mean to be cruel but it will be that way for an eternity of eternities.”

“He’s right you know” said Eternity nodding as she admired the Great and Mighty’s nebula.  “About them and your lot.  I do admire your persistence though, you are quite the optimist G.  Oh and the ionized gas clouds they are quite lovely by the way.  Great job.”

The Great and Mighty scratched himself and quite grumpily screwed the nebula into a ball and defiantly shoved it deep inside a black hole.

“Oh G, come on that’s a bit of a waste it was rather pretty” Eternity insisted.  “Don’t be such a baby.”

The Great and Mighty folded his arms in defiance and turned his back on her.

“Mate, no need to be such a drama queen about it” the All Knowing said reaching into the blackhole and putting the nebula back in place the best he could.  Admittedly he was more a fan of stars but didn’t mind trying his hand at new things if the chance arose.

“He can only be in charge for 8 years at the most anyway…”

Seeds of Solitude – Room 101

Another thing about stuff and people and more stuff

This is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here.  These used to be 101 words.  Sometimes they still are.  Sometimes not.  They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time.  Mostly though they are just whatever the words inspire


Two hundred and fifty miles above the Earth Rhoda thumbed frantically through the thick comms manual, static filling the research station’s cockpit.   

“Come on come on where the fuck are you” she muttered to herself, quickly flicking through the  schematics.  With both the main and secondary array’s knocked out she needed to find another way to get back online and she needed to do it quickly.

Looking up she glanced out of the low wide window which ran along the port side of the capsule. 

“Shit.  Shit, shit, shit.” She exclaimed, her mouth wide and fingers involuntarily losing their grip as the heavy manual clattered onto the metal flooring.  She pushed herself off and drifted closer to the window, her mind filled with the faces of Mal and the kids. Six months she’d given up for the chance to be up here.  Six months on her own.  Six months that were going to make a difference down there but now?  Did they even have any idea of what was coming?  

She closed her eyes and for a moment she was back home one last time.  Mal was making breakfast.  Pancakes.  They were mostly inedible but he was a good man and he tried and he was a better dad to the girls and a better husband to her than Dale had ever been.  And the kids loved him and that counted for a lot.

Before she could drag him back to bed Rhoda sensed a shift in the vessels trajectory and the ear splitting wail of the station’s proximity alarm dragged her back to reality.  With her heart racing she opened her eyes and looked out again and watched the white arcs criss-cross the Atlantic below.  If the Proximity sensors were working then she might be able to tap into those and …

“Oh fuck” she said realising it no longer mattered, picking out a single missile that had turned towards the station.

Closing her eyes suspended two hundred and fifty miles above home she helped Mal with the washing up and looked out onto the garden watching the girls play in the early morning sun.  And waited…

The Realm of Reliability – Room 101

I’d not bother really I was just trying to get back on the horse with this piece after a while away from my keyboard…

this is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here.  These used to be 101 words.  Sometimes they still are.  Sometimes not.  They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time.  Mostly though they are just whatever the words inspire


He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling watching the shadows give way slowly to the first rays of daylight.  He was cold, the threadbare blanket barely covered him, and his head felt foggy.  Looking about the room he could pick out only the bed where he lay and a small table on the opposite wall on which sat a number of dog eared books and some scraps of paper.

The pale light seeped through the small slit of a window high up in the wall and as he became accustomed to the darkness he could pick out the feint outline of a door.  He rubbed his eyes and tried to remember but there was nothing there. No recollection of where he was or why.  Or even who.  All that existed was this moment and nothing more.

He swung his feet out of bed and onto the cold concrete floor and draped the blanket around his shoulders.  Stretching out a hand towards the wall behind the bed he felt the same cold dampness that he could feel in his bones. 

“Hello?” He shouted into the darkness as he shuffled towards where he thought he could make out the door.  No response came as he searched for a handle but there was none.  The door was a cold metal and he raised a fist and banged on it but it was so heavy that it was barely audible.

“Is anyone there?” He shouted again.  There was no response.  He repeated the process but something inside told him it would be of no use, something familiar, and he made his way back over to the table and pulled out a rickety wooden chair and sat down.

He pushed the books and old newspapers to one side and with his head in his hands, searched in the confusion of his mind for something to hold onto but It was like trying to grasp fog, and everything just seemed to slip through his fingers and into darkness. 

Breathing deep he closed his eyes as distant sounds began to float towards him.  Fists clenched he focussed and between breaths he could make out the sounds of children laughing.  They were distant and feint, but familiar too. And there was a knot in his stomach as they became louder.  He heard a name called out.  “Marie”.  Quite clear and distinguishable and then like the voices it slipped through his grasp.

He mouthed her name as the room grew lighter, memories stirring, and reached for the newspapers.   They were old, yellowing and brittle and the headlines swam before his eyes.  He traced a shaking finger below the words and felt his body begin to shake as they formed pictures in his mind.  He had been here before though, he had felt this disconnect, this familiar nothingness.

“She was only 7 years old” he muttered to himself.  His breathing quickened as he continued to read and somewhere in his mind there flickered an ember of remembering.  Names once known now clear and faces familiar appeared through the thick fog and each word he read fanned the embers into flames.

“Oh god” he said to himself turning quickly to the inside pages to continue reading.  His hands trembled and his mouth was dry.  He knew her.  Or maybe he knew of her.  No, he definitely knew her.

The dark unspeakable deeds on the pages formed images in his head, as clear as day, and unable to continue reading he closed his eyes and heard what he knew was not laughter but a panicked mother calling out.

He pushed himself away from the table, heart pounding, eyes wide.  It couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t.  He told himself that he would never do those things, that it wasn’t him, that she was only a child and that he would never do that to a child.   But he knew that he had.

“No” he screamed and lashed out sending the books and papers spilling across the floor.  Turning to the door he threw himself against the cold metal and pounded it with a fist.  “I didn’t do it, I didn’t” he protested, but he knew that he had.  He had done every single one of those vile acts described in the pages of the newspaper and more.

He slumped to the floor and curled into the foetal position.  All the fog that had clouded his mind was lifted and he remembered everything.  Her face, her name, the things he had done and over and over, this room.  Memories vivid and clear and a madness gripped him as a voice flooded the room.

“Good morning Walter” it said calmly.  “I see you have remembered.”

 “I didn’t do it “ he shouted sitting up, “it wasn’t me.  You have the wrong person.”  He knew what was to come though and wild eyed stared up towards the light as it streamed through the small barred window.

“Denial is no defence Walter” the voice continued. “Acceptance is the first step to repentance.  Sleep well Walter, tomorrow we will try again…”

Devil’s Delight – Room 101

One for all you believers out there

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. I try to do them in 101 words but sometime not.  .  The prompt was ‘Devil’s Delight’


Leyak rapped against the heavy wooden door and stepped back and waited.  Beyond he could hear the shuffling of feet but no call to enter came.

“Knock again” urged Abraxas.  “He needs to come out.  They’re expecting him.”

“Shut up will you, you’re not the one doing the knocking” Leyak snapped taking a deep breath and raising a trembling hand to knock again.   He could feel the heat seeping from the room beyond and if he had a heart then it would most certainly have been pounding.  “You know what he’s like this time of year.”

Abraxas ran a curled claw down the column of a sheet clamped to the clipboard in his hand his eyes hovering over the numbers.  His nostrils flared and his skin glowed red as small flames danced between the short black horns on his head.  “Fine, I ‘ll do it.” he said sharply knocking on the door.  “We really don’t have time for this.  He’s due out tonight and it’s in his contract.”

With a sharp thud and a rumbling of thunder a deep voice, full of dread and malice barked back.

“Leave me alone, I don’t want to do it.”

“Sir please” pleaded Abraxas.  “This is it.  Your big finale, the thing these last six thousand years have been leading to.”

“No, I’m tired of being the bad guy.  Get someone else to do it.”

The imps exchanged confused glances.

“Sir?  I’m sorry but there is no one else.  This is your gig.  Your crowning glory.  Your time to reign.”  Said Abraxas leaning in towards the door warily.

“Plus we all get to get out for a bit boss” added Leyak, “and I know the lads are really looking forward to it.”

“Well I don’t want to.  Why is it that I have to do this.  If I am honest, I actually like things just as they are and I’ve become quite accustomed to it and I really don’t like change.  Plus it’s just not fair.”

Abraxas reached cautiously for the door handle.

“And another thing” came the voice from behind the door.  “I am pretty certain that I’m getting a pretty raw deal you know.  After all these years and all the awful things he let happen I have to turn up and be the bad guy and he then gets to save the day.  I don’t recall that being in my contract.”

“But sir, you made her eat the apple” said Abraxas impatiently.

The floor shook as a roar tore through the air the door shaking and both Abraxas and Leyak cowered pressed against the wall.

“I’ll have you know I never made her do a damned thing” he bellowed, heavy footsteps approaching the door.  “She wanted it and anyway, it was just a bloody apple.  You know what the problem is don’t you?  Do you want me to tell you?”

He waited for the cowering creatures to respond and when they didn’t he carried on anyway.

“The problem is, is that he is a bit of a twat to be honest.  It was just a bloody apple and he then goes off on one being all vengeful and dickish and ends up killing his own son over it.”

Leyak pulled himself back to his feet and took the clipboard from Abraxas who remained curled up in a ball on the floor.

“Sir please, we really need to go there’s a schedule to keep.”

There was a deep sight before the creature spoke again.  “Okay, but Let me ask you this.” There was a melancholy tone in it’s voice as the door handle turned slowly.  “Am I really that bad?  Did I really deserve this?”

“I understand boss I do” answered Leyak.  “And no I dont think you deserve it at all but it’s in the contract sir, and we really need to get going.  And think about the lads boss, it’s been a while for them.”

The door swung slowly open on its heavy metal hinges and the creature stood in the doorway.

“How do I look?” he asked running his fingers through his hair.

Leyak smiled as Abraxas looked up from his position on the floor.

“Like the best damned POTUS there’s ever been boss…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Slingers – Part 1

I might give this a second part…

Part 0 can be found here


Dee sipped her tea from a mug and stared out of the window towards the old Victoria station.  The rain was falling, as was it’s tendency most days these days, and though it was the middle of the day the skies were dark and neon bathed the streets.

Once one of the destinations at the heart of London’s transport network, Victoria was now little more than a dirigible mooring station, the once endless stream of trains now a thing of the past and long replaced by the overland maglev’s than sprawled across the city and onwards to all corners of the country.

“You going to eat that?” Drax said motioning to Dee’s bacon sandwich.  It had been a long night bringing in Carlo and he was still rather peckish.

Dee shook her head as she watched the swarms of delivery drones buzz high above street level and disappear into the mists that covered the tops of the hab zones.

“I don’t like this Drax, not one bit.  It’s going to get us killed.”  She said watching the rain run down the window of the small café.

“Or” he said taking a large bite of the sandwich  “or it could make us rather rich Dee.”  

“It could make us rather dead more likely.”

“I will have you know that no one kills Drax the destroyer Dee, no one.”  Said Drax with a mouth full.

Dee rounded on him.  He was damn good at his job, and unnervingly lucky, but he was also incredibly annoying when it came to anything other that killing.

“Bloody hell must you persist with that ‘destroyer’ nonsense.  As if Drax isn’t stupid enough a name already, you really don’t need a nick name to compound it.  And stop talking with your mouth full.”

“Do you think I should buy a cape” Drax asked,ignoring everything Dee had said and finish off the sandwich.  “maybe something in crushed purple velvet?”

Dee sighed and looked back out of the window as a black taxi cab dropped down out of the mist and hovered just above the ground picking up a fare.  A think man in a dark coat scurried through the rain and jumped inside before it shot skywards again.  Turning back to Drax she took another sip of her tea.

“For one” and she raised a finger, “This is a recovery job.  Hardly our thing given that we are not required to kill anybody.”

Drax nodded and shrugged.

“I’m adaptable.”

“Two, we have no idea where she is and we need to somehow recover her from the Zentras.  Now the last time I checked they still controlled most of the north bank and are not to be messed with.  Why would you want to do this.”

Drax grinned and Dee knew this was not going to end well.

“Did I mention that we would will make a ton of money?  The sort of money that you need Dee.  Now what’s the worse that could happen?”

Dee knew that the worse that could happen was likely considerably worse that she could imagine.   The Zentras controlled everything from Battersea to the Black wall tunnel and were not to be taken lightly.  They ran every racquet imaginable and then some and they loved their bio-augmentations which made them particularly problematic when coupled with their maniacal obsession with such ridiculous notions as honour and family.

“I don’t like messing with the aug’s any more than you do Dee but there’s a kid out there that needs to be found and I might actually have a way to get us a bit of intel.  What do you say?”

For the briefest of moments Dee almost believed Drax’s sincerity.

“Exactly what intel might this be then?”

“My sister, she’s well in with…”  Drax never got to continue.

“Are you kidding me?” Dee exploded.  “After last time?  Drax why is she any less likely to try and kill you now than she was before?”

Drax smiled broadly and winked.  “She’s Zen now Dee,  Zen don’t kill family…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finish the story – #11

Been meaning to get to this forever. Sorry for my tardiness…

Welcome to Finish the Story

The Haunted Wordsmith started a story, tags someone to pick up the story and add to it, then hand it off to another person, etc., until the story is complete. This has proven to be quite fun in a blogging situation since we all have different approaches.

Rules–

1 Copy the story below as it appears when you receive it (and the rules please)

2 Add somehow to the story in which ever style and length you choose

3 Tag only 1 person

4 If you choose to not participate or finish the story, please comment/tag this post so that The Haunted Wordsmith knows.

The Private Detective

One of the first lessons Eric learned the hard way after leaving the force and going into business for himself was to never ask the client why they wanted his services. The less he knew, the better it was for everyone. Something about this case, and the creepy man who hired him last week, just didn’t sit right though.

As he sat in the old blue Buick flipping through his notes, he saw her coming down the step of the opera house. He snuffed out his fifth camel and started the car. She was all dolled up in a victorian get up. Looked like something out of an H.G. Wells movie. Eric watched as she crossed the street, entered the park, and hailed a carriage.

“Shit!” He couldn’t follow her in the car through the park.

The carriage turned the corner and …

A Guy Called Bloke

… and disappeared from his view!

“Buggerations!” Eric snorted as he quickly got out of the car and hop, skipped and jumped his way across the street into the park. He could just see the end of the carriage as it made its way merrily across the lawn tracks!

As Eric chuffed along behind the carriage, he was becoming more and more startled as he saw smoke billowing from the top of the carriages’ roof, “What on earth?” Eric thought.

After only a few minutes, the carriage came to a standstill beside the fountain of Silver Waters, and she stepped out. Eric quickly hid behind a man selling balloons! He saw her talk to the driver, who doffed his hat and moved the carriage forwards by fifty or so feet before coming to a standstill again.

He watched Vicky [he had called her this because of the garb she had been wearing when he first caught sight of her. He didn’t know her name, Mr Creepy hadn’t passed on that nugget of information, so Vicky would have to do for the time being] walk up to the fountain, and as she approached from within her bulky skirts she withdrew a large bottle of something. The contents he could see were bright green almost luminous!?

“What on earth??” Eric gasped!

Vicky stopped in front of the fountain of Silver Waters and seemed to be speaking to the statue on the top, a funny looking gargoyle [l know, who would have thunk it?] and as she did so, the statue moved and so spake back in a kind of sing song accent and turned  and looked at the balloon seller – who was already becoming quite twitchy as he didn’t usually have another man quite this close to him when hiding!

Suddenly the balloon seller disappeared in a plume of green smoke with silvery tinges and Eric saw the balloons take flight to the skies!

“Blimey! That’s burst my bubble of disguise!” Eric thought, “Now what?”

Meanwhile Vicky and the gargoyle were looking directly at Eric and seemed to be speaking in the language of the elephant shrew [Eric knew this as his Son was studying the very same language in the elephant shrew school – l know how freaky as a coincidence is that?] As Eric tried to look as inconspicuous as possible which was somewhat difficult in his bright yellow zoot suit, Vicky and the gargoyle were speaking rather fast now and as they were doing so, the air around them cracked, and groaned, and creaked – yes creaked! The more Eric looked the more he could see wrinkles appearing before his eyes, the air seemed to be visible, the atmosphere was heavy, was that a portal opening, and was that another Vicky stepping out, was that another Vicky stepping out, was that another Vicky stepping out?

Eric closed his eyes for a moment thinking alternative reality and feeling somewhat faint and when he opened them again …

… he sat on his old Harley flipping through his ipad, he saw her coming down the step of the museum. He snuffed out his twenty second Marlboro and started the Harley. She was all dolled up in a Gothic get up. Looked like something out of an old, well Gothic movie. Eric watched as she crossed the street, entered the zoo, and hailed a camel.

“Chocolate Smarty Cake!” He couldn’t follow her on the bike through the zoo.

The camel turned the corner and Eric thought, Thunder Pants and then he ….

The Britchy One

…..started to feel very giddy. What was going on? He was uncoordinated, disorientated and sank slowly to his knees as he lost consciousness.

He woke with an IV in his arm Ina hospital bed. A nurse was busy with a chart and it took her a minute to realise he was awake.

“Welcome back! You had us all worried for a bit there!” She chirruped. “What happened?” asked Eric “I’ll see if the doctors here to see you” she replied, neatly avoiding his question as she sashayed out of the room. Eric noticed wryly that her scrubs fit in all the right places – obviously he wasn’t too out of it!

He looked around, bored. The room was a bland, beige, instantly forgettable room with a stunning view of a solid brick wall six feet away. If you weren’t sick before you would be after a couple of hours here he thought.

There was a peremptory knock on the door. Before Eric could respond and officious looking man in a bespoke suit walked in. His shoes looked expensive. Handmade burnished Italian leather glowing as only shoes polished by a valet could. His apparel and demeanour screamed upper class like the foghorn on a cross channel ferry.

“So you’re awake” he barked in a short staccato burst of verbal gunfire. “Do you know who you are?” “Yes of course I do”said Eric giving his full name “Why am I here and where are my clothes?”.

“All in good time my man, you were brought in without any identification two days ago. You were dehydrated and had concussion. Let’s get some details shall we? He proceeded to ask Eric’s full address, profession and if he knew what day of the week it was, what year it was and other questions Eric presumed were to assess his cognition. “What happened do you remember?” the man concluded.

Eric’s Mind was a blur. Full of bizarre dreams – or were they?

“I don’t really know” he admitted. “Do you know why you were in the park?” I was following someone on orders from a client.”

The man leaned forward quivering “Ahh and what do you know of this client? he purred.

Just as Eric was about to answer there was a knock at the door. A short tired looking Indian man shuffled in. “Hello I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Doctor Raina”

Wait! exclaimed Eric turning to look at the first man “If this is the doctor then who are you?”….

Mel Gutiér

Just at that moment, everything froze around Eric except for the elegant stranger who seemed familiar to him now. Eric’s mouth opened wide.

“I’m the Time Keeper. You have something of mine. Do you remember what it is? You’ve been jumping from time to time, wandering. It will take you some time, but you’ll remember.”

“What are you talking about? How are you doing all this?”

“Damn! You’ve gone in too deep. I tried explaining it to you. You didn’t give me enough time. You just had to run after her, didn’t you? They’re going to kill you if they find you, you know that?”

“Time Keeper?”

“Eric… you don’t remember the vault? You don’t remember the lock breaking and Lydia disappearing? You don’t remember taking the compass from my office? Eric… you’re in danger and I need the compass back to find Lydia.”

“Stop! You’re a mad man! You’re the devil!”

“You don’t even remember my name, do you?”

“Fuck you!”

Lost and confused, Eric got out of the bed, pushed the stranger aside running out of the room. He became dizzy as he tried walking passed the still figures in the hallway. Indeed, time had stopped somehow. Everyone in the hospital had stopped in their place, their space. The elegant stranger ran after Eric hopeful that he would wake up to full memory. He needed that compass.

“Eric!”

“Leave me alone! I don’t know anything about a compass!”

“I can help you! Just stop for a moment! Let me help you!”

Eric ran outside and stopped in his tracks. He was stupefied. The air seemed to be missing and nothing was moving. Birds locked in midair, sound in a vacuum, a single leaf traveling to the ground was floating still before him. All living things stood motionless before him, as if wax figures stood in their place. Even the motionless buildings looked different, shifted somehow and he noticed a curtain in one of the houses stopped outside its window as if held out by an invisible string, the dead wind. How was this possible? Somewhere in his head a familiar connection began to emerge. He knew something about this magic, but it was still a blur.

“I’m Logan. I’m your Time Keeper. You’re a time traveler. We try to set things right in the world.”

The elegant stranger, a stranger no more, put his hand on Eric’s shoulder. Eric’s breath was heavy, and his mind was racing in the still of time. Something began to stir in him as he turned to look at Logan. His breath grew stronger and he broke down in tears.

“Lydia!” He gasped.

“Yes! You’re remembering! It’s okay… it takes time. You’ve been through a lot. You’ve traveled for months looking for her, chasing the wrong woman. I had to get you to stop somehow. This was the only way.”

“What?”

“The institution, the visions. The client.”

“The client… he has your compass.”

“No! What did you do?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know. Oh God!”

“That was no client, Eric! Do you realize what they’re capable of doing with that compass! If they have Lydia, if they touch her… Eric! You have to remember where that client is. We have to get that compass back!”

Eric looked at Logan, took one last breath and disappeared. Logan fell to his knees as everything came back to normal. Movement… time resumed, but Eric was gone… again.

 

Michael @ Afterwards

Eric watched the tea lap against the edge of the mug as he dropped in another cube of sugar with a reassuring ‘plink’.  His mother had always said what when in doubt sit down and have some tea, preferably in a cup and saucer, and it will help to put things into perspective.

Unfortunately the diner didn’t have any saucers, or decent china cups for that matter, so he settled for a plain white mug of something approaching a loose description of tea and some silent introspection.

A large breasted, friendly faced waitress walked over and asked him if he was ready to order.  Eric shook his head.

“No thanks, just the tea will be fine thank you.”

“Suit yourself darlin, you let me know if you change your mind now'” she said with a wink and a smile and sauntered back over to the long counter that ran the length of the room.  He continued to watch as she took a pot of coffee and filled a cup for herself.

Returning to his thoughts Eric took a sip of his tea and considered recent events, not least how he had ended up in the diner, fully clothed and with a pocket full of cash.  As diners do it was a nice enough place, stereotypically so in fact with just the right amount of plaid shirted trucker looking types, chequer board flooring and a good selection of pies.

He searched his memories but could not remember how he had got here.  Staring out of the large window into the half full car park beyond he stirred the tea again, allowing fragments of memories to come back to him.  The spoon swirled through the hot dark liquid as mysterious strangers compelled him, gaping hospital gowns left him feeling rather exposed and the smoking of rather a lot of cigarettes left him feeling that perhaps some life changes might well be in order.

The memories were jumbled and overlapping, nothing seemed to be in the right place and everything seemed to contradict itself.  There was also a most uncomfortable feeling that he had lost something and really needed to find it.

He looked up as the waitress walked past again and smiled.  He smiled back and noticed her name badge.

‘Lydia’.  Nice name he thought…

Tagging: Dorinda @ Night Owl Poetry

 

 

 

Brimstone Brew – Room 101

This is very much just a beginning…

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. I try to do them in 101 words but sometime not.  .  The prompt was ‘Brimstone Brew’


With the full moon peering cautiously through the dark clouds Cassandra pulled her cloak tight around her shoulders and stirred the small bubbling pot slowly.

“Needs more eye of newt” said Serano stepping from the shadows. 

“And looks a little light on ragwort too” added Evanora as she alighted from her broom with all the grace and experience of a woman of her two hundred years.  “Hubble bubble indeed” she continued reaching into inside her cloak and pulling out a small pouch.  “ I have some if you’re a little short.”

Cassandra sighed and put down the heavy wooden spoon.

“Ladies, it’s only coffee.  There really is no need to be so dramatic.”

Evanora sniffed the brew as she took a seat at the small wooden table.  “Milk, no sugar please.”

“Someone’s in a mood I see” said Serano taking a seat opposite Evanora.

Cassandra flicked her wand and the pot lifted effortlessly into the air, filling there large cups with the steaming dark liquid and a flourish sent the cups floating over to the table and the pot placed itself back over the fire.  Cassandra took a seat and reached for one of the cups  “Help yourself to milk and sugar.”

As Cassandra took the first sip of her drink Evanora looked over at her and then leaned forward, her eyes bulging more than usual and her crooked nose twitching. “Have you done something to your face Cassie, you look different.”

Cassandra shook her head and stared into her cup.

“She has she has” exclaimed Serano leaning over to get a better look.  “Oh my giddy aunt” she continued.  “Where are your nose warts Girl?  By Methuselah’s beard what have you done to yourself?”

Being a good hundred years younger than the others Cassandra was used to them treating her like a child.

“It’s nothing really” she muttered still refusing to look up. 

Evanora pushed her coffee to one side.  “Nothing? Nothing?  My girl, a nose warts are very much part of who she is.  You cannot just magic those things away, they are part of your very fibre. How did you do it?”

Serano nodded in agreement.  “I saw Santa once at an AA meeting after he’d had a shave.   Not unpleasant and he has a rather nice chin with a cute little cleft but left me feeling rather uncomfortable I will tell you.”

Cassandra moved the cup from in front of face and lifted her head. 

“Sweet baby Jesus” Exclimed Evanora.  Serano put her hand over her mouth in shock. 

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad.” Cassandra protested.  “In fact ai think it looks rather nice.  Grenville the warlock who keeps the bar at the Hogs Head said so himself.”

“Oh Evie” said Serano most upset.  “Evie what is going on.  This is most unwitchlike.”

Evanora took a deep breath and stood up slowly from the table. 

“Cassie, this will not do” she said, her voice stern an commanding.  “This will not do at all.  You are a witch.  We are witches.  We have certain standards to maintain and a wartless face is simply not acceptable in this coven.”

Serano nodded again, this time more vigorously, and Cassie’s lip began to tremble as she started to speak.

“I really don’t see what the problem is” Cassie replied, her voice cracking as she spoke.

“The problem is that there are acceptable norms Cassie.  You don’t see Serano hopping on a bus or taking a dog as a familiar do you?”  Evanora didn’t wait for a response before continuing.  “No, she takes her broom when she needs to pop to the shops and has a perfectly acceptable cat like everyone else.  She conforms Cassie.  She is a witch and she behaves like a witch.”

Cassie eyes began to well up and then, quite unexpectedly, she stood and banged her fist on the table.

“No, no that is not fair.  I like how I look and I think I look much better and Grenville agrees.  In fact I think it’s hypocritical for you to insist I keep my warts.”  She shot a glance over at Serano who was still nodding.

Evanora noticed the glance between the two women.  “What was that?  What’s going on her?” she exclaimed.  “Serano?”

Serano stopped nodding and began shaking her head.  “It’s Nothing.  There’s nothing.   I don’t know what she is talking about.”

Hands on hips Cassandra suddenly felt emboldened.

“You think I haven’t seen the way behave when Victus is about?” she snapped.

“What is she talking about?” asked Evanora sharply.

“Let’s just say that she hasn’t been riding side saddle lately” Cassie continued. 

“Is that true Serano?” Evanora asked her nostrils flaring.  “Have you been riding stick?”

Serano blushed and looked away.

“Oh dear Merlin’s ghost, by Satan’s cloven hooves what is going on with you two.  This is most inappropriate and unwitchlike.”

“Oh please” said Serano.  “Don’t act all superior, you’re one of the dark ones remember.  You’re no white witch.  I remember what you were like when you were younger.”

“Really? “ said Cassandra. 

“Oh yes, let’s just say that that her cat wasn’t the only pussy to get up to no good.”  She winked and grinned as Cassie covered her mouth in shock and Evanora turned sharply pulling out her wand.

“Serano, hush your mouth” she shouted, wand raised.

Serano laughed loudly returning to the table “Oh sit yourself down dear, you know you aren’t going to use that thing.”

Evanora stood breathing heavily her face flushed before sitting back down and composing herself.  Cassandra waited a moment longer before taking her place. 

The three witches stared silently into their cups and Cassandra cleared her throat nervously and began to unbutton her tunic.

“Does anyone want to see my new piercing….”

 

 

Purple Plasma – Room 101

This is very much just a beginning…

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. I try to do them in 101 words but sometime not.  .  The prompt was ‘Purple Plasma’


Stanislaw rolled the cigarette slowly between his gnarled yellow fingers and stared out across the SSR Lenin’s launch deck.  Attack vessels blazed across the blackness of space and flashes of purple plasma tore through the darkness as a Mark II cutter exploded in an iridescent ball of red and gold just off the starboard side.

He puffed out his cheeks, placed the cigarette behind his ear and tapped the com-patch on the lapel of his faded uniform.  A second cutter slammed into the force field protecting the high hangar doors and exploded without so much as dinting The Lenin.  She was a strong ship, old, but tough as old boots.

“Oscar, it’s Stan.  You got me a ship yet?  The boys are getting taken to pieces out there”

After a momentary pause the com crackled into life.

“Negative Stan, we’re all out.  We have everything out there trying to repel them, nothing ship side.”

Stanislaw walked slowly over to the hangar entrance.  “Okay Oscar copy that.  First ship in is mine though okay?”  He placed the cigarette in his mouth, pulled a small silver lighter from his pocket and lit it.

“Roger that Stan” said Oscar.  “I know you don’t like to watch.”

“Copy that.  Out”

Stanislaw took a deep drag and watched the small attack ships dance between the larger cruisers, picking each other off as the cruisers fired their heavy salvos towards each other.

“What a complete shit storm” he mumbled to himself and took another drag of the cigarette.  

For two years they had dodged the Zentra trying to get back to Earth and now just a week out they had found them.  It was going to be a long day.

 

 

Coffin Candy – Room 101

Getting back into it again…let’s see how this goes shall we…

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. I try to do them in 101 words but sometime not.  .  The prompt was ‘Coffin Candy’


“Harold?  Are you there” came a voice through the darkness.

Harold said nothing, the all too familiar shrill tone conjouring up memories he would much rather forget.

“Harold?  Harold?” She continued.  “I know you’re here.  Where are you.”

Harold sighed.  “Hello dear” he said with considerably less gusto than his recently departed significant other might have expected.

“Is that it?” she snapped.  “After all these years that is the best you can muster.  ‘Hello dear’?”

“How are you?” Harold continued. 

“How am I?  Good god man how the dickens do you think I am.  This is all very much a shock let me tell you.”  Her voice was as shrill as a boiling kettle whistle. which reminded him that it had been quite some time since he had enjoyed a nice cup of tea.

Harold sighed again.  He really had been enjoying the peace and quiet very much up until this point and knew he was not going to get even a biscuit never mind a cup of tea.

“Who’s that?” came a third voice.  “Have you got someone with you Harold?”

The best Harold could muster was “Oh shit” as the kettle voiced woman exploded in a fit of rage.

“Who is she?” she bellowed.  “Where is she Harold, get her out here right now.  Come on, where is she hiding.  Put on a bloody light man.”

Harold waited for her to stop shouting before quite calmly explaining that there were no lights and that was Carole from next door.

“Carole?  Carole?” she exploded again.  “Bit familiar don’t you think.  Where is she Harold?  Under the bed.”

“No dear, she’s next door.” Harold explained.  “She’s just a friend.”

“Oh thanks Harold” said Carole sounding rather hurt.  “I thought I was more than that.  That’s just great.”

“Im sorry” Harold replied.  “I thought…” He waited for a moment.

“You thought what Harold?  You thought I wouldn’t find out?  Is that it?”

Harold cleared his throat.  “Carole, this is…was… my wife Julie.”

Carole sniffed.

“Is she crying?” Julie asked, not waiting for a reply.  “You can bloody well cry all you want dear” she said raising her voice and shouting into the darkness.  “I’d remind you that’s my husband thank you very much.  And what exactly do you mean by ‘was’?” she snapped savagely turning her attention back to Harold.

“Well…” Harold said his voice wavering.  Harold remembered with great displeasure that Julie was about as patient as she was pleasant.

Perhaps a joint burial plot hadn’t been the best idea after all…