A bottle of hope sat on the shelf – Room 101

Just something about bleached anus’

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.


“Another,” Balthazar demanded, and slammed his glass on the bar top. His wings bristled, and the dim light glinted on the tips of his horns as he looked around the room. Small wisps of smoke drifted from his nostrils and his thin lips curled up in a sneer, revealing his sharp, white teeth.

A tall, pale faced creature with skin like dirty snow wandered across, his deep blue eyes flashed as he poured a thick, dark liquid into the waiting glass.

“Long day?” He asked. The barkeep pushed the cork back into the bottle, wiped the bar top habitually, and then flicked the cloth so that it sat across his shoulder.

Balthazar snarled and downed the drink, again loudly demanding a refill.

“You sure about that?” Asked the tall, pale creature. “This stuff don’t come cheap you know, and ….”

“Another!” Balthazar roared.

The glass was quickly filled, and then filled once more. The rage in Balthazar’s eyes dimmed slightly with each consumed glass, and by the time he had finished two more he placed the empty vessel quietly.

“Yes,” he said, letting out a long deep sigh.

“Yes, what?” the bar keep asked puzzled, as he offered the bottle once more.

Balthazar placed a hand over the glass and shook his head.

“Long day. You asked me if it had been a long day. Yes, yes it has. Really long.”

The barkeep nodded and placed the bottle back on the shelf behind him as Balthazar continued.

“It’s people you see,” he said, the wisps of smoke now gone and the fire in his eyes dimmed. “You know how it is with them right?” He didn’t, however, wait to find out whether the barkeep did, or did not, know how it was with people and continued. “Every day I get up, clean my horns, sharpen my teeth and ensure that my skin suit is clean and presentable. I’m never late, I stay late, and I give my very best efforts. You know what that gets me?” He asked.

A wide mouthed, bat like creature with ears where its eyes ought to be and eyes where its ears ought to be settled on the bar next to him and looked him up and down. It then caught the attention of the barkeep and asked for two vodka martinis to be delivered to table seven.

“You know how it is with people right?” Balthazar asked it, “you know how they are I’m sure.”

The bat like animal flashed a smile with its ear-eyes and gave Balthazar what he took be a confirmatory nod, and flittered off towards the back of the room where what appeared to be a couple of snakes were having a loud disagreement over the existential power of apple imagery in medieval architecture.

“You see, he knows,” Balthazar said, “he knows what they’re like.”

The barkeep was used to this sort of thing, he tended to see it a lot as the week wore on. First thing Monday morning everyone was filled with the optimism of the week ahead, the potential for pain and suffering, the chance to make a real difference and bring proper misery and sadness. But by Wednesday he could see the doubt seeping in as the long hours took their toll. By Friday the stark reality would dawn on them and they would flock to the bar after work with a pocket full of silver and a big old dose of reality.

“People,” the barkeep said knowingly.

“Exactly!” Proclaimed Balthazar. “See, you get it too. There is nothing that we can do to them that they probably haven’t already done to each other.” He seemed invigorated in finding someone who understood his plight. “Do you know, that just this morning I was doing some anal stretching on a school teacher from California, and do you knwo what she said?”

The barkeep shook his head.

“Bleach. She asked for bleach. Said she wanted to look her best and was wondering if she might be able to put a picture of it it on the ‘gram becasue she was pretty sure none of her friends would believe it.” Balthazar took a deep breath to compose himself, visibly shaking. “Do you know how hard it is to find bleachg down here?” He continued. “But even when I did find some it really wasn’t as if it was my idea, so where’s the joy in that. I had intended to start with gaping and progreess from there. I mean most people finish at gaping, so I set a high bar, professionally speaking. But I just couldn’t relly get into it. She stole all the pleasure from it. Left me with this horrible empty feeling right in the pit of my stomach.”

“That’s out of order,” said the barkeep as he signalled the bat like creature to fetch the drinks for table seven.

“Damn right it is, I had to desecrate a couple of yoga teachers to try and make myself feel better about things, but sometimes even defiled yoga teachers aren’t enough to make you feel good.”

“So what did you do?” The barkeep asked as Balthazar motioned to his empty glass once more.

“2 million likes for a bleached stretched anus,” Balthazar replied, his shoulders slumped and his eyes dark with disappointment. “Two million. I swear, we really should have just left them to it. They dont take anything seriously, and nothing we can do can make it any worse up here…fuck them all.”

The place where silence had a voice

Another from the drafts that I continue to clear out…

Here’s another from my drafts. This one is apparently from October 2019. I don’t remember it at all really. It was one of M’s prompts that I never quite finished (obviosly right). I liked the beginning but never really planned it out, and the end is a bit of a cop out. It’s hardly an original idea, I think it was just s stream of consciousness kind of thing. Oh well, it’s something I guess.  Meh. *Presses ‘Publish’.

________________________

With what should have been his hands, Walter quite unsuccessfully reached for what ought to have been his head and found nothing.

After further exploration he quickly determined that neither his head, nor his hands were in the general vicinity of where one would expect to find them. In fact, without too much effort at all he was able to ascertain that he seemed to be missing rather a lot of assorted appendages and parts. And by a lot, he meant precisely everything.

His leg bone was not connected to his foot bone. And his neck bone was not connected to his back bone. In fact, none of his bones seemed to be connected to any other of his bones in any sort of way that would allow him to sing the song with the measure of confidence he was pretty certain he would have been able to earlier that morning.

In addition, and to compound his growing consternation, Walter also noted that he couldn’t see anything.  Not his non existent hands, or his curiously absent feet. Nor any of his other absent body parts.  Whether it was a deficiency of eyes that was causing the lack of everything else, or whether he indeed possessed eyes but there was simply nothing for them to see he could not tell, and the whole thing really left him feeling rather unwell.

“What the devil is going on?” He said mustering as best a sense of authority as he could, calling upon all he had learned during a two day seminar on ‘Meaningful Management’ in Brighton more years ago now than he could quite recall.  “Is anybody there?  Hello. HELLO!”

“Oh, good day,” replied a voice in the darkness. “I wasn’t expecting anybody, I am sorry.”  The voice was warm and calm, not quite a man’s or a woman’s, just somewhere comfortingly in-between the two.  “Did you have an appointment?”

“Appointment?” Replied Walter, confused. 

“Yes, an appointment, everyone who comes here tends to have an appointment,” replied the voice. “However would we maintain order if we didn’t have appointments.  It would be chaos and that really would not do.  No, it would not do one jot.”

As far as he was aware, Walter didn’t have an appointment and he confirmed as much. He knew he needed to be somewhere, though doubted it was here. It was far more likely he needed to pop to the shops for milk or tea bags. That said, it was was all a little fuzzy and he couldn’t be absolutely certain.

Walter noted that he couldn’t feel his tongue or lips, and that made him wonder how he was managing to speak.

“It’s your consciousness” said the voice.

“What is?”

“You were wondering about where the words were coming from weren’t you.”

Walter managed little more than a mumble in response. 

“I…well you see it is just that….” Walter’s voice trailed away and once more only darkness remained as he waited.

And Waited.

“Ahem,” Walter coughed politely.

“Oh yes yes, so sorry, now about that appointment.  You say you don’t have one right?  Most unusual I must say.”

“Sorry no, I don’t really know what is going on to be honest with you.”

“Best policy that” Replied the voice enthusiastically, “Can’t go wrong with a bit of honesty.  Now let’s clear up this appointment business shall we.”

Walter would have shuffled on the spot had there been a spot to shuffle on. Or feet to shuffle.

“Yes, there’s definitely no appointment.” The voice said. “The book is never wrong and there is nobody due for another one point eight seconds.”

Walter mouthed a silent nothing. He would very much have liked to have something constructive to say, anything, but he had precisely nothing. 

“Well,” continued the voice, “this really is a pickle isn’t it. What are we going to do with you. It’s not like we can just send you back now, is it.” 

It wasn’t as much a question as a statement, Walter thought. 

“Are you sure?” He mustered. “I am pretty sure there is somewhere that I need to be.”

“Oh no, no chance of that. You’re here now. We can’t just stuff you back in now can we. Whatever would those upstairs say if we just went stuffing things where they ought not to be stuffed. It would be chaos. No, no, you’re here now.” 

“You can’t?” Said Walter, remembering where it was that he was supposed to be. “I was supposed to have a job interview this afternoon. In Wimbledon.  Could you maybe not just drop me off there?”

Whether he was being ignored, or the voice had drifted off somewhere to do whatever it is disembodied voices do when people don’t have appointments, Walter did not know, but for what seemed an immeasurable length of time, he waited. And paced. In as much as you can pace without anywhere to pace to or anything to pace with. 

“Good news,” came the voice in the darkness. “We have an opening. I had a word with the boys in lost property and we think we have something that might fit. “It’s not exactly your size but should do the trick.”

Walter did an about turn and then faced back to where he had been originally. “What do you mean by ‘fit’, he asked. “I need to be in Wimbledon. I have an interview. I really cannot be late.”

“Oh no, terribly sorry, but you won’t be going to Wimbledon,” the voice said. “That ship has sailed. Afraid you’re just going to have to settle for whatever we have. Clerical cock up I’m afraid.”

“Sailed? You mean I missed it?” Walter asked. “But it had wonderful benefits and a parking space and….”

“Just step back a little will you,” said the voice. 

Without thinking, Walter shuffled backwards.

“That’s it, just there. Now hold still.”

“But I…now listen here, what do you mean by cock up,” Walter protested, “I want to speak to someone in charge. I have right s you know. This is all very…”

Walter never finished explaining what exactly it was, and he never got to speak to whoever was in charge. The quiet darkness was replaced by a roaring gush of sound and there was an ear piercing scream. All about him he felt a warm wetness, and his chest was tight as his lungs burned.

“Just a little more,” came a voice as the darkness gave way to soft warm light. It was a woman’s voice. “Her head is nearly out…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Belugas and dreamlifters

I loved it when I started, hated it by the time I was finished but at least the idea is kind of out of my head now and I can fix it another day.

Been a while, so let’s have a look at M’s prompts. I used to do a lot of these and want to do more this year. This one is from January, but I liked the title, and have been dabbling for many months meaning to get to it. If you’re reading it now I guess I finished it. Kind of. TBH I just wanted it out of my drafts. I think the idea is an interesting one, just lost momentum along the way. Anyway, it’s a draft but as far as I am going with it – it is done. Woohoo.


The Expatria drifted slowly through the inky black of space, Jupiter’s shadow cast across her massive bulk as she rounded the pale moon of Europa and engaged her sub light drives. At over five million tonnes she was the largest of the Heavy Weight Class ships to leave the Martian shipyards, and she was bigger even than the Federal battle cruisers that patrolled the region.

Even in the dark of space she seemed to spark and flicker as light struck the long curves or her upper decks, her gigantic storage tanks buried deep within the bulge at her centre and lower sections waiting to be filled. The distinctive yellow and black Martian livery marked her unmistakably as a Dreamlifter, and as she slowed the small fleet of support vessels about her sprung into life, preparing her for action.

The bridge sat high on the front of the ship, three sides open to the dark of space, and standing on the deck looking out across the surface of the moon, Captain Staines issued his orders calmly.

“Bring her around ten degrees to moon side, nice and easy, ensign. And keep up 10 miles above surface.”

“Yes sir,” came the response from somewhere behind him, and he felt the ship turn slowly, almost imperceptibly. But with 25 years on these birds he could feel her every movement in his bones.

“Engineering, what’s our status?” Staines asked.

Behind him, there were thirty crew sat at long arrays of display banks, arranged in three rows that ran the width of the bridge. Pale green light flickered across their faces as the ship continued to move slowly then came to a halt, hanging above the moon surface.

An angular featured, thick set engineer, his yellow EngCore colours displayed in thick flashes on the shoulders of his dark blue uniform looked up from his display.

“Captain, readouts confirm that all systems are green-for-go, and we are now within harness range of the spike,” he said. His voice boomed across the bridge like approaching thunder and a passing service robot scuttled for cover.

The feint hum of the sub light engines filled the air as they held the Expatria in place against the massive gravitational pull of Jupiter in the distance, the slow hypnotic swirl of the planet’s surface distracting him while the crew waited on his orders. She was a thing of true beauty, and something to be feared if you were foolish enough to stray too close to her.

“Engineering, initiate harness protocols and prepare for harvest.” Staines said, turning back towards the crew. “Time to go to work.”


Barnabas threw a boot across the cabin at Lafayette as she stirred in her bunk.

“Hey, come on!” he shouted as she rolled over, swearing into her pillow. “We’re green, and we need to get our arses in gear.”

Lafayette opened her eyes slowly, and instinctively reached for the bottle next to her bed, noted it was empty and let it fall to the floor as she sat up, tossing the boot back across the room.

“Eat my balls,” she said swinging her legs out of bed and into her her boots.

“Nice,” said Barnabus, “you talk to your mother with that mouth?”

“Thoughts of what I do with my mouth should never even enter your head,” she said, rubbing her eyes and running her fingers through her long dark hair, pulling it into a tight pony tail. “We got a confirmed spike?” She asked.

“Big one apparently,” Barnabus answered as Lafayette got to her feet. She straightened the red overall she had fallen asleep in the night before and pulled the black belt tight around her narrow waist.

“What we waiting for then?” She said, brushing past Barnabus and stooping down to pass through the low cabin doorway.

Barnabus smiled and set off after her. She was one hell of a drinker, but she was an even better harpoon operator, one of the best, and talk was that there was a big one out there.

The clank of boots on steel echoed as they passed the rough the long, dimly lit corridor that ran from the crew quarters low on the stern of the Expatria. On each side service routes branched off and snaked throughout the bowels of the ship, and it was down one of these that Barnabus and Lafayette headed.

“So exactly how big are we talking?” Asked Lafayette without looking back at Barnabus who trailed behind.

“A Neptune event big, apparently,” replied Barnabus, “maybe even bigger. It has be something special to bring us this close to the planet, I reckon.”

Lafayette smiled to herself. Big haul meant big pay, and the Guild paid the best rates in the sector. They held a tight grip on the shipping lanes that crisscrossed the galaxy, and they couldn’t do this without controlling the dark matter that fuelled the faster then light engines that made crossing such huge distances possible.

“And who else is on duty, have they said?” She asked.

Barnabus hurried to catch her up. She had a competitive streak for sure, in fact it was more than just a streak, it was a compulsion to be the best and when you were trying to harness pure dark matter it helped to be motivated.

“It’s you, Jones and Metlichok,” Barnabus answered. “And me and Zulu on radar.”

Lafayette bristled as she slowed and looked back at Barnabus, who was now a little breathless as he struggled to keep up with her.

“Christ, are you fucking kidding me!” Lafayette snapped. “Those jokers nearly got me toasted at Caloris Basin. Jones is a bag of nerves and Metlichock doesn’t give a shit about anything the money. It makes him reckless.” She scrolled through the display on her watch, checking the ship comms for details of who was on duty on the bridge. “I need to see Staines. Is he on deck?”

“And how do you think that will go down exactly?” Barnabus asked. “This thing is big, big time big, and like them or not they get the job done. There are millions of cubes of DM, just waiting to be ‘pooned and you can’t play nicely with the other children. Not a good look on you, you know.”

Lafayette knew Barnabus was right, they wouldn’t change the crew, and this made her angrier still.

“Well they can still eat my balls,” she snapped.

Barnabus grinned. “You seem rather obsessed with having your non existent balls eaten you know.”

“They’re metaphorical, thank you very much. Metaphorical balls. Big hairy ones.”

“Even so, you know, you really do seem very keen to…”

“Okay, enough, enough,” snapped Lafayette, pushing through a set of heavy double doors, “let’s just go to work shall we.”

Barnabus smiled as he followed her through the doors into the wide, low room ahead. “Okay, if you insist.”


“Are we ready to engage?” Captain Staines asked as the Expatria hung above the surface of the moon, her huge shadow cast across the surface. He looked unusually nervous, and strode back and forth across the bridge, his hands his hands dug deep into his jacket pockets.

“All service online and ready to proceed Captain,” came a voice from behind him. “Estimated haul…”

There was a pause and the voice trailed away, a tone of disbelief left hanging in the air.

“Yes?” Prompted Staines

“Sir, it’s of the charts. Readings spiking all over the place.”

Staines turned slowly and faced the room. The dim light of the computer banks lit the pale faces of the crew that sat behind them.

“Is there a problem Ensign?” The captain asked, his voice prickling with frustration. He needed this haul, it was critical to the success of their mission and the Shipping Guild were on the comms hourly asking for updates.

“No sir,” the Ensign replied, “Ive just never seen anything like this.”

Staines fixed him with a stare and waited.

“Sorry sir, no problems reported, we are ready to engage.”

“Then do it.”

The Ensign punched in release codes and a red light lit up the room. A ship wide alert barked out. ‘Extraction protocols live. All hands to stations.’

“Thank you Ensign,” said the Captain. “Comms, send a message to the Guild and inform them harpooning has commenced.”

A wiry haired operator responded sharply. “Yes sir,” he said, looking up, and then returned to his screen, fingers flashing across the flat panel in front of him.

As he punched the ‘transmit’ button all hell broke loose.

In an instant, the Expatria was rocked sideways, and Captain Staines was thrown across the deck and send crashing to the floor against an instrument array that sat raised to the side of the bridge. A screaming whine filled the air as the sub light drives fought to right the ship and lights flashed and flickered as the crew were tossed from their positions and strewn across the brdge.

Horror flashed across Staines’ face as he fought to gain his footing, leaning against the console against which he’d been thrown.

“What the hell was that!” He shouted as a second shudder ran through the ship. A mix of alarms and shouting rent the air as the crew scrambled to regain their positions.

“Massive overload!” Shouted an ashen faced engineer. “Tanks at 98%. Auxillary hold engaged. Integrity steady but outlet manifolds under sever stress Captain.”

Staines scrambled over to his chair on the opposite end of the deck and threw himself into it, pulling the harness straps tight over his shoulders.

“Get me Lafayette on comms now! He barked. “And put radar on heads up. I need information.”

A holoscreen appeared in mid air about a metre in front of where Stanines sat. It flickered for a moment and then the flustered face of Barnabus appeared on it, no longer sporting it’s usual broad smile.

“What the fuck is going on down there?” Stains demanded.

A control panel behind Barnabus sparked and cracked, lights flickering and the hiss of escaping steam mixed with the shouts and cries in the background.

“It’s a Beluga sir,” shouted Barnabus over the din, “a huge one sir, like nothing I’ve seen before, and it’s pissed.”

Captain Staines shook his head. As critical as the ‘pooners were, their superstitions, folklore and spiritual view of dark matter defied all sense or logic, and he knew better than to diminish the very thing that seemed to allow them to harness it.

“Just tell me what you’re seeing, Barnabus,” Staines said calmly.

Barnabus flinched as a heat duct came crashing down and collapsed behind him.

“This thing is after us Sir, from the minute I locked on and issued coordinates to Lafayette it was like it knew we were here and it came straight for us. We didn’t need to try and hit it – it came to us.”

Staines took a deep breath. “Have you unlocked targeting?” He asked. “Have we disengaged.”

“Yes Sir,” Barnabus shouted in terror, his eyes were wide and Staines could see him shaking. “But it’s still after us Sir. It’s a Beluga Sir, and it’s still coming down the system, I can see it, I can feel it!”

There was a loud scream from somewhere behind Barnabus and the screen fizzed and went black. The Expatria rocked and a cacophony of alarms sounded. Staines unstrapped himself from the chair and stumbled towards a door that lead from the bridge.

“Keep her steady!” He shouted and he pushed through the doors. “And keep all channels open on me. I’m going below deck.”

________________

Lafayette righted herself from where she lay on the floor, her head was spinning and there was the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. A searing pain shot up her right leg as she got to her feet and looking down she could see the blood seeping through her coveralls.

“Barnabus! Barnabus!” She shouted. Everywhere was thick with steam and smoke, and the sparking radar consoles threw red and orange shadows across the room. Small fires crackled and hissed and there was a pungent smell of melted rubber in the air.

Barnabus didn’t respond. She called out for Jones and Metlichok, but again, no answer. She tapped the comms piece in her ear, but there was only a feint crackle of static.

“Christ, where are they,” she said leaning against the radar console. It was somehow still functioning, and the usually green screen was awash with the small white streaks that indicated dark matter. Usually there would be a couple at most, but now…well now, there was very little else.

All she could remember was being told it was a big one, and Barnabus looking terrified and then….Nothing. Just this. This complete and total shit show. Lafayette attempted to move in the general direction of the thick double doors that guarded the harpoon bays, but pain flooded through her and she stumbled forward, collapsing once more onto the floor. Her head was spinning and there was a darkness in the periphery of her vision. Realising she was losing consciousness she attempted to drag herself to the door, a thick streak of blood trailing behind her.

Reaching out a hand through the smoke, she grabbed the leg of what she guessed to be one of the heavy tables that stood either side of the entrance doors. Her fingers were bloodied and her breathing was heavy.

“Over here,” came a voice. A familiar voice. It was calm and kind.

“Barnabus!” Lafayette shouted. “Barnabus, where are you. I’m hurt, I can’t…”

“This way, just a little further,” it said, “keep coming towards my voice.”

“Where are you?” Lafayette said, panicked. She was dizzy from the pain and everything now seemed so very dark.

“Just a little more,” said the voice again. “It will all be over soon.” She could hear it, it sounded like Barnabus, but there was something different, she wasn’t so much hearing it as feeling it deep inside her, resonating.

Lafayette pulled herself forward and dragged herself upright using the leg of the table, and sat up against it, breathing heavily. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, though in the smoke it was hard to be certain. She knew it hurt like hell though, and she knew she had lost a lot of blood by the thick red trail she had left across the floor.

“Are you ready?” The voice asked.

“Barnabus…”

“It’s time. It’s over,” the voice continued, “it’s time to join us.”

Before her, the smoke cleared, and Lafayette felt cold creep over her skin. Small pinpricks of light swirled before her, soon joined by more, dancing and flitting back and forth. Her breath misted as she breathed heavily, and slowly the lights took a familiar form. It was Barnabus, formed by the shimmering lights. His eyes were dark, and as he reached out a hand she felt the cold seep deep into her bones.

Lafayette struggled, but she was powerless to move, and as the sparkling hand touched her shoulder she felt her lungs fill with suffocating cold, like she was drowning. She looked down and watched with silent horror as her legs began to turn to dazzling specks of light.

“Come home now, Lafayette,” said the shape before her, thin silvery lips smiling at her. “It’s over now.”

As Captain Staines crashed through the doors, Lafayette screamed, a desperate silent scream, and as she raised a hand before her face he watched as she dissolved into starlight before him, and then, in a moment, she was gone. In a final crescendo of existence, her light swirled high up into the room, hanging from the ceiling and then, it tumbled slowly downwards, settling on the bloodied floor around him like fine snow on a still winter morning.

For a while he just stood there, motionless, heart racing. The room was cold and dark, it was silent, and it was empty. As he stared to where Lafayette had sat only seconds before, the silence was broken by the sudden clicking of fans kicking into life as the ventilation system came online, and the room quickly cleared of smoke as it was sucked from the room.

A small ping sounded behind him and he turned to where one of the radar bays still glowed green. White lights moved across it, darting and swirling back and forth and as he watched they formed a familiar pattern. It was Lafayette, unmistakable.

He reached to touch the screen and the image flickered for a moment, a thin smile across her face. He knew she could see him, just as he could see her, and then again , for one final time, she was gone.

________________

High above the Moon of Europa the Calista circled the wreckage of the Expatria as she drifted slowly in her lifeless orbit, a mile long gash in her side a reminder of the explosion in her tanks that had ended the lives of so many.

From his vantage point on the deck Captain Staines looked down on the graveyard of a ship he had once commanded. Even now, years later, the nightmare of those final moments still haunted him. His nights were filled with the silent screams of the thousands that had perished in the cold of space as he watched, helpless, from the small round window of the lifeboat.

“Are we ready to engage, Ensign?” He asked, his voice wavering.

“Yes Sir, all systems green-to-go.”

“Radar, please confirm status,” he prompted as he turned in his chair to his holo screen.

“Yes sir,” came an enthusiastic reply. The operator was young, barely out his teens, and Staines could feel the excitement in his voice.

“Engage,” ordered Staines. His stomach lurched.

Red lights flashed across the bridge and the hum of the harpoon’s cycling up could be felt throughout the ship. Staines switched his screen to monitor the radar and watched as the small pinpricks of light on the screen blinked out, one by one, and the monstrous containment tanks began to fill slowly.

“All systems normal,” sounded a confirmation from the arrayed banks behind him. “Tanks at 15% and rising. Pressure levels normal.”

Staines breathed heavily, his focus on the screens as the tanks continued to fill.

As the gauges continued to creep slowly upwards across the screen there was a brief flicker on the radar, and then another.

“Radar, report,” he ordered.

“All systems normal Sir,” came the response.

“Engineering, report,” Staines said, sitting upright in his chair and pulling his shoulder straps tight.

“All systems normal sir, containment at 100 percent. No anomalies present.”

Staines continued to watch the screen. It flickered again.

“Radar, report!” He demanded.

“Sir, all systems normal. She’s a big one, but nothing we haven’t seen before Sir.”

“Engin….” Staines’ voice trailed away as the screen flashed from green to an incandescent white. Brilliant pinpricks danced and swirled before his eyes. At first they were random, a confusion of brilliance, and then slowly they began to take shape.

Staines tried to speak but his voice was caught n his throat. He felt unable to move as before his eyes, there on the screen was a face he had seen is his dreams every night. It smiled at him, like a long lost friend, eyes full of wonder and compassion, and then, as the gauges on the side of the screen continued to rise a pained expression crept across her face. The pain turned to a contorted grimace and she mouthed silent exhortations, the remnants of long lost fingers clawing at the edges of the screen.

“Tanks at 50% Sir, anomaly 99% harnessed,” came a confirmation from a dark haired Ensign sat off to his right. “Initiating shut down protocols.”

Her eyes now wild, Lafayette stared out at him, her empty mouth wide in a pained grimace. Tears spilled from her eyes and ran down her starlit cheeks as the hum of the harpoon’s fell silent and slowly, pinprick by silvery pinprick, her image faded from the screen and all that remained was the pale green glow of the radar.

Lafayette, she had come home at last.

Exodus 0.4 – Dust

Just a thing I have been playing with…

I’ll carry on with this a bit. Not sure if anyone will read it but I like waffling on when I am in the mood…I’m still just trying to mostly find time and just keep writing something each day

Other parts are here, here and here

_____________

At about the same moment that Fisher changed her mind from wishing she had never been born to instead wishing that fate on the base Commander, an unfathomable distance away at the far side of the universe – and quite a bit beyond that – a Crenorian fleet dropped out of hyperspace. It then proceeded, methodically and without too much of a fuss, to demolish a quiet and unassuming small planet where just moments before the magical myriad of molecules and circumstance had collided in a ‘just so’ manner to create what would eventually have evolved into intelligent life.

It didn’t. Instead, along with everything else on the planet, it was turned to a collection of space dust and debris in the name of military preparedness.

“Now how about we collect the debris and hurl it into the nearest sun?” Pondered Fleet Marshall Jolt, a broad grin spread across his face from gill to gill. His scales flashed iridescent in the dim light of the bridge and a sharp red tongue flicked from his mouth licking his thin dark lips.

A junior officer shuffled uncomfortably and informed Jolt that it was a practical impossibility though they could spend a few hours firing ion torpedoes at the larger remaining pieces of planet if that took his fancy.

“And are there any living things out there?” Jolt asked, staring out into the inky darkness of space as he stood legs akimbo and hands on hips looking, in his opinion – and this being the only opinion that actually mattered – quite impressive indeed.

“D-d-doubtful sir” the junior officer replied. “Pretty certain the exercise put pay to anything that might have been alone though early scans indicated that the planet was quite lifeless.”

“Hmm, that’s a shame. Would have been nice to do a little hunting.”

The junior officer continued to shuffle his feet uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure that he would class a planet killer class Crenorian warship’s vaporisation of an entire planet as ‘hunting’. He was certain however that he was not going to correct the Fleet Marshall.

“Unfortunate indeed sir. Shall I stand down the armoury for the time being.”

Joltz signed and turned slowly. “Yes I suppose you better if there isn’t anything else worth blowing up. Are you absolutely certain?”

“Afraid so. I’ll stand them down sir shall I.”

“You should probably stand the armoury down then…what was your name again?”

“Drax Sir. Fenorious Drax”

“Oh there is absolutely no way I intend to remember that.” Joltz turned back towards the darkness outside of the ship. “I don’t even know why I asked. Anyway, stand down the armoury for me will you. Looks like there’s nothing else to blow up.”

“Yes sir straight away” said Drax saluting with his clenched fist across his chest and spinning on his heels as he hurried from the bridge.

And it was at this precise moment an unfathomable distance away and then some at the far side of the universe that Cole received, by an apparent incalculable chance, instructions to set his faster than light drives to coordinates that just moments before was the home to a planet that was suddenly no longer there thanks to Fleet Marshall Joltz.

___________________________

That will probably be the end of that …for now. 🙂

Fluctuating Follies – Exodus 0.3

A continuation of a start of something perhaps…Just trying to get my juices flowing again

Michelle does a load of great prompts each month. I used to do a lot but less so now. Ill try get back into them I think. Theyre often just snippets of things and seldom more. This one is the glimmer of an idea I needed to get down on paper, using the prompts as ca bit of an idea spark – and like everything else I pretty much just share it whether done or not.

Part 1 of this is here

Part 2 is here

_________________________

Admiral Kent stood legs akimbo, hands on hips as he cast his gaze over the bank of screens laid out before him.

“How do I look Fisher?” he asked turning slowly, his once chiselled physique now like too much sausage meat squashed into too little skin.

“Regal Sir” Fisher lied.

“Really? Are you sure?” He placed one hand on a nearby desk and leaned nonchalantly, turned his head as if to look wistfully into the distance. Perhaps at a herd of reindeer on a hill side. He did rather like reindeer. “You don’t think it would look better if I were a little more… relaxed?”

“No not at all sir” Fisher insisted clasping her clipboard tight. “I think you look very imposing sir.”

“Imposing you say?” Kent liked that. He smiled and assumed his previous pose, sucking in his stomach. “And what time will the artist be here?” He asked turning his head so that what he regarded as his good side got what little light there was from the copper wall sconces scattered around the room.

“He’s already here sir. You asked to see Cole first though.”

“I did, I did yes of course. And is my dress uniform ready? I do want to look my best for my portrait.”

“Yes sir, it’s in your quarters.” Said Fisher, her knuckles white as she gripped her clipboard even harder. The lengths she had gone to for her stripes and here she was baby sitting this deluded fool of a man on a pointless mining outpost.

“And the hat too? You haven’t forgotten that right?”

“Hat too sir. Yes.”

“Jolly good. Please send Cole in…”

Cole entered the room and brushed past Fisher. She bristled as he came near and glared at him, nostrils flared. Cole really had no idea why she hated him so much. That is not to say that he did not know why she hated him, he did. But how much she seemed to despise him did seem excessive. He did sometimes wonder if it was displaced passion or maybe an unrequited love kind of thing and all that pining for a lovers touch shenanigans. It could also have been the way he treated her back in flight school. Who knew really, it was one or the other. He never could tell with women, they were a curious thing to him.

Cole continued past Fisher, stopped in front of the Commander and saluted. “You asked to see me Commander Kent?”

The Com turned slowly from where he had been staring at nothing in particular at the other side of the room. It was something he liked to practice as he felt it gave off quite the impressive dramatic effect as he turned back slowly.

“Ah yes, Cole, thank you for coming” he said.

Cole waited. Kent said nothing.

Cole shuffled and looked around as Kent continued to say nothing, again practising his dramatic delivery. He was getting very good at it he thought to himself.

Cole continued to wait uncomfortably, wondering whether the Com had perhaps suffered a stroke. Or perhaps some sort of neural embolism. A newb pilot in his squadron during the Martian wars had suffered some sort of mental schism at the onset of a sortie to scout a Martian moon base, and when his autopilot brought him home the lights had been well and truly turned off and he was most definitely not home anymore.

“Good to see you Cole” Kent said, the dramatic pause apparently concluded. “How have you been?” Cole opened his mouth to speak but Kent didn’t wait for an answer. “You’re going to be heading a mission out beyond the mining belt.” He continued quite matter of fact.

“I see” said Cole surprised. “To where exactly Sir? There’s a whole lot of nothing out there. And some pretty ‘awful somethings’.”

Fisher’s customary scowl broke into something close to a smile. Just getting beyond the belt was dangerous enough given your proximity to Mars, and beyond that very few Earth ships went since the war.

“Well, that’s just the thing Cole, I don’t really know. Orders came through from High Command and that’s really all I know. They asked for you specifically, seems you have something of a reputation and they felt you were the right man for the job. Whatever the job is.”

“And what is the Job Sir?” Cole pressed.

“Absolutely no idea” Kent said, his voice trailing away as he turned slowly away to stare once more into the distance. “That’ll be all Cole, Fisher will give you more details. Departure set for tomorrow at zero eight hundred.”

Fisher grinned as Cole turned without saluting and heading slowly towards where she stood. Her small dark eyes seemed to dance in a way that Cole was certain her body certainly could not.

“Oh and Fisher” Said Kent as Cole reached the door.

“Yes Sir?” Said Fisher tucking her clipboard under her arm and drawing herself to attention.

“You will make sure you make that I have my hat before you go right?

“Go sir?” Fisher said quizzically.

“Yes, really do need it for the picture you know and they asked for you for the mission too so really don’t want you to forget it. I did mention that didn’t I?”

“No Sir, you didn’t” Fisher answered, the smile now disappeared from her face.

“Oh I am Sorry” Kent said. “Really should have mentioned it before now, my memory can be quite terrible at time. Anyway, good luck to both of you, and don’t forget the hat before you go.”

_________________________

Here are a few others from way back

https://afterwards.blog/2019/03/11/harvest-room-101/

https://afterwards.blog/2019/03/11/harvest-room-101/

https://afterwards.blog/2019/10/07/the-fizzled-enchantment-and-other-stories-of-ruin-room-101/

Soup sandwiches – Exodus 0.2

A continuation of a start of something perhaps…Just trying to get my juices flowing again

Michelle does a load of great prompts each month. I used to do a lot but less so now. Ill try get back into them I think. Theyre often just snippets of things and seldom more. This one is the glimmer of an idea I needed to get down on paper, using the prompts as ca bit of an idea spark – and like everything else I pretty much just share it whether done or not.

Part 1 of this is here

_________________________

“Would you like refreshments sir?” Offered the Nutri-Bot as it hurried alongside Cole as he strode from the deck. It clicked and whirred in hopeful anticipation of a sale, the outline of a small serving hatch in the front of its white cylindrical body pulsing with an inviting blue light. “I am fully equipped to provide all the daily sustenance you require in a single…”

“No thank you” Said Cole, almost apologetically. Re-entry always left his stomach feeling rather uneasy and the nondescript beige the bots served up was the last thing he wanted. They were only machines but they did tend to take it personally when you declined.

“Are you sure Sir?” It asked again, a hint of desperation in it’s voice. “I have a quite delicious lobster bisque available today. Freshly prepared.”

“Is it beige?” Cole asked, knowing full well that it was. It was all beige. Always. This however was all the encouragement the machine required and it leapt into a detailed expose of both the nutritional and existential benefits of lobster bisque. As the bot continued to click-whir Cole quickly packed his flight suit into his rack and put on his orange service overalls. He pulled the belt tight about his waist and his black cap onto his head.

“No, really, I am fine. Thank you” he insisted as he headed for the exit to the hanger while the Nutri-Bot lurched into an explanation of the historical importance of lobster bisque in the pre-Martian war western culinary movement.

And then Cole stopped in his tracks abruptly . The Nutri-Bot ceased click-whirring and then fell silent also. Cole reconsidered his previous position and relegated the Nutri-Bot’s offer to second on his list of things he did not at all want. The last thing he wanted was stood directly in front of him, arms folded, and a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp.

“Hello Cole” snapped Fisher, a sneer creeping across her thin lips. Cole’s eyes were drawn to the stripes on her shoulder.

“Promoted I see” Said Cole.

“Cream rises to the top” said Fisher. She held out clip board in such a threateningly efficient way that it made Cole take a step backwards. “Com wants to see you now on the deck. Double time.”

Cole patted the Nutri-Bot on what was most likely it’s head as he passed through the hanger doors. “She looks hungry” he said smiling.

_____________________

Here are a few others from way back

https://afterwards.blog/2019/03/11/harvest-room-101/

https://afterwards.blog/2019/03/11/harvest-room-101/

https://afterwards.blog/2019/10/07/the-fizzled-enchantment-and-other-stories-of-ruin-room-101/

Only Resolve – Exodus 0.1

A start of something perhaps…Just trying to get my juices flowign again

Michelle does a load of great prompts each month. I used to do a lot but less so now. Ill try get back into them I think. Theyre often just snippets of things and seldom more. This one is the glimmer of an idea I needed to get down on paper an like everything else I pretty much just share it whether done or not.

_________________________

Cole sat and stared into the blackness of space, his scout craft threading slowly between the twisted debris of the countless burnt out ships that orbited what remained of the Earth. The massive empty shells, once home to the last of the Earth’s forces, drifted silently, destroyed long ago in the endless wars now forgotten by all but those who clung to the stories of the past.

As a child, he remembered looking to the skies on warm summer evenings and recalled how, from the surface, there seemed to be so many stars, a vast swathe of pinpricks across the curtain of night, but up here, all he saw was the darkness.

The radio crakled into life. It was M. Unmistakably M.

“Hey Cole” she shouted, “you up there feeling all pensive and thinking abnout the darkness?”

Cole smiled and shook his head. She knew him too well. Not that he minded.

“I’ve picked up a deposit of Trilatium in a cruiser in quadrant six. I’m heading over there now.”

“So that’s a yes then” M replied, Cole could hear the smile in her voice.

“Affirmative” said Cole. He never quite knew what to say to her.

“Well you’ll be please to know Fisher wants all ships back Earth side asap so you can get your sweet arse back down here sharpish and stop contemplating the mysteries of the great abyss.”

“Copy that M, I’ll rendezvous with…”

“Sharpish Cole” M scolded, “no rendezvousing, no checking in, no gathering, assembling or fly-bying. Get yourself home now, there’s something going down and brass seem pretty shaken up. “

“Copy that” answered Cole adjusting his nav and tightening his harness. He wasn’t a big fan of re-entry, and these old scout ships has an unnerving ability to come to pieces if you pushed them too hard.

“Oh and Cole, pop by the canteen when you get back will you, you owe me a drink.”

“And why exactly is that?” Cole asked. He was pretty certain that he didn’t owe her anything at all.

M laughed. “God you’re a dense one aren’t you. You’re lucky you’re so damn pretty. Just do as I tell you Cole, I know what’s best for you. You trust me? Right?”

He steered the scout ship through the massive hull of a burnt out Martian destroyer, the blackened levels towering above him on both sides. Once home to thousands of Federation soldiers, now long dead, the place gave him the chills.

“See you Earth side M” Cole answered smiling. “Over and out.”

_____________________

Here are a few others from way back

https://afterwards.blog/2019/03/11/harvest-room-101/

https://afterwards.blog/2019/03/11/harvest-room-101/

https://afterwards.blog/2019/10/07/the-fizzled-enchantment-and-other-stories-of-ruin-room-101/

Room 101 – Out of Reach

It’s been far too long, and sometimes anything will do…

I used to do these – 101 words only. This might be a bit longer. This is also using one of M’s prompts.

___________________

Rosa clasped the stem of the rose tight in her palm, its sharp barbs digging into her skin. The pain made her feel alive and she squeezed tighter, not wanting to let go.

“Why are you so upset?” Carlo asked, the cold wind blowing through him as he watched the tears roll down her cheeks. “You know it will be okay. It always is.”

Rosa shook her head and sighed deeply, pulling her dark coat tight about her as the rain began to fall.

“You said you wouldn’t leave me.” she whispered to herself.

“But I came back” Carlo replied trying to catch her eye as she stared at the ground. “I said I would and I did right? I promised. I kept my promise Rosa.”

Rosa shook her head and began to turn, the wind catching her hair as it did and blowing it across the soft pale features of her face.

Carlo reached for her, desperate to touch her, to wipe her tears and make everything better, but she slipped through his fingers and before he could stop her she walked slowly away.

“Rosa wait” he shouted, he tried to move but felt paralysed. “I’m back now Rosa.” His words trailed off as they were strangled by the wind. And then, for the briefest moment Rosa stopped and began to turn, but shaking her head once more she walked slowly away into the rain. He looked down at his feet and there was the rose, its dark red petals in sharp contrast with the fresh, rich dirt.

Carlo opened his mouth to scream but it was too late, soil began to rain down and cover him as the grey skies opened and the service drew to an end…

Along The Weathered Winding Trail – Room 101

A start of somethign perhaps…

In response to M’s writing prompts which you can find at the link below.  These are often just quick pieces, ideas or glimpses of what might be…Fun to do though.  I used to try do them in 101 owrds but meh, it’s close enough…See the prompts here


The lights of the night beyond splashed across the hotel bedroom walls and painted his body in neon pinks and blues as he walked towards the window. Breathing deep he slid open the heavy glass panes and the noise of the city spilled in with the cold winter air. Shivering he lit a cigarette and watched below, the smell of her cheap perfume still on his skin and that god awful noise she made ringing in his ears.

Fighting against the wind Dennis folded the map and forced it angrily in to the side pocket of his pack.

“So, where now?” Cath asked taking a drink from her canteen and motioning towards the valley below them.  “Down there?  Seems the best route I think.”

Dennis took a deep breath and counted to five in his head as he watched the water glisten on her lips.  She licked them noisily and it made his stomach lurch uncomfortably.   

“No, we need to head up.” He pointed westwards to where the sun was beginning to arc towards the snow covered peaks.  “The pass is another couple of hundred feet up and a few hours beyond that we should be not too far from the cabin.”

“A couple of hours?  Jesus Dennis how are we so far off track?  I thought you said you knew how to read a map” 

Dennis snatched the canteen and took a drink. 

“Careful” Cath snapped back, “that’s got to last us until we can find water again and you know I get thirsty.”

He stared at her as he felt the water slip down his throat and down through his chest like a knife slicing slowly into him.  His heart was racing and he wondered if anyone would believe him if he said she’d slipped and fell into a ravine.

“Sorry, you’re right” he replied.  “I don’t know where we went wrong.  We need to get moving though as we need to be there before dark.”  He knew exactly where they had gone wrong, they had gone wrong when Cath had insisted on taking charge because he always got these things wrong apparently. 

Dennis hauled his pack onto his back and pulled the straps tight.  There was snow in the air and the temperature was dropping.  Probably too cold for her to die from hyperthermia if caught out he thought, far too early in the season.   Pity.

“This way then” he said setting off along the narrow track along the cliff top.  To their left tall pines climbed into the sky and far below he could hear the babble of water. 

“Maybe you should go down and get some water before we set off” Cath suggested shaking the bottle. 

“Maybe you should get mauled by a bear in the night because your sleeping bag has been filled with bacon” Dennis thought to himself before insisting that there was a waterfall on the map not far away and that they could hold out until then. 

“I’m really thirsty “ Cath replied taking another drink.  “Are you okay waiting until we get there?”

“Yes dear of course” Dennis replied, his fists curled into a ball wondering whether there were wolves in the area.

They walked quietly for a while, the beauty of their surroundings lost on Dennis as he stared at the ground counting the steps as he went.  This was supposed to be a trip to help fix things but just a day in and things were resuming their usual patterns of accusation and recrimination. 

“Gorgeous isn’t it” he said looking up and motioning to the white tipped mountains in the distance.  “The brochures really don’t do it justice.”

Cath didn’t respond and when Dennis turned around he saw that she had her ear buds in and was humming along to whatever she had playing.  It was probably Bach.  She liked Bach.  Bach made him feel stupid because he simply could not appreciate it like his wife and her university friends did. 

“Fuckin Bitch” he said aloud. 

God that felt good. 

She looked up, removing one of the buds from here ear.  “Did you say something?” She asked.

“No Dear” Dennis responded.  “Not long to go now though and we should be at the waterfall.”

“Ok” Cath said and went back to her music.

“I want to screw your sister” Dennis muttered under his breath smiling.    

Cath removed her earbuds again.  “Are you sure you didn’t say something?  You do have a habit of mumbling as you know.”

“Bears” thought Dennis.  Bear would probably eat all of her, even her fat arse.

“Up there look” Dennis said “the waterfall.”

The last hundred metres seemed to take forever as the path grew steeper and underfoot large rocks made the going difficult.  By the time they reached the summit they were both breathing heavily. 

“God look at that, isn’t it amazing” Dennis said.  Before him a river cut through the rocks and plunged downwards to the valley below.

“Yeah its lovely” Cath said handing him the canteen.  “Fill that up will you I want to take a photo.”

Dennis watched as she walked up to the edge of the bank where the river fell over the cliff edge.  Unfortunately it wasn’t particularly fast flowing so there was little chance that she would be washed away.

“Hey Dennis, come and take a photo with me” Cath called out.   

Dennis walked over reluctantly, his usual smile plastered across his face. 

“One for the scrap book” He said standing next to Cath, the heavily wooded valley stretching far into the distance. 

“Indeed it will be” Cath said as quite suddenly she pushed Dennis hard in the back and he stumbled forward twisting slowly as he plunged over the cliff top.

Looking up he saw her smiling down at him as he fell towards his death.

“Fucking bitch…”

The fizzled enchantment and other stories of ruin – Room 101

A start of somethign perhaps…

In response to M’s writing prompts which you can find at the link below.  These are often just quick pieces, ideas or glimpses of what might be…Fun to do though.  I used to try do them in 101 owrds but meh, it’s close enough…See the prompts here


The lights of the night beyond splashed across the hotel bedroom walls and painted his body in neon pinks and blues as he walked towards the window. Breathing deep he slid open the heavy glass panes and the noise of the city spilled in with the cold winter air. Shivering he lit a cigarette and watched below, the smell of her cheap perfume still on his skin and that god awful noise she made ringing in his ears.

Snow began to fall slowly as she emerged below and stepped out onto the street, already he could sense the life beating inside her, feeding hungrily. He hated himself almost as much as he hated them, but their soft pink bodies made great hosts…

Selfie – Room 101

Bloody awful stuff

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