A Word to our Sponsors

So this is Christmas. Or that’s what Lennon said. It snuck up on me again this year, because I swear it rolls around faster every time… are we absolutely certain they’re not shaving a few days off when we’re not looking?

I thought I’d take a moment to wish my readers all the best, no matter what you are or are not celebrating today. And also to extend my heartfelt thanks.

There are a few of you who take a moment to click on the ‘Tip Jar” button at the bottom of this page. I’ve almost removed it so many times, and I tend to just not scroll down, because it feels like I’m asking for something. I’m not big on asking for shit. Like to the point that, when I order food, I just get what’s on the menu. I don’t even say ‘hold the mustard’ even though I really wish they would. So having that button there, well, it’s asking.

But it’s not asking without giving something in return. That’s what I remind myself. I’m struggling, like everyone else, to make ends meet. And writing is what I do. I put it out there without any expectation of compensation, but when someone shows their appreciation and acknowledges the fact that I’m not salaried to write, that feels pretty good. It takes money to keep this site running. So when you ‘buy me a coffee’ it actually does help, and actually does mean that that week, I can afford to buy myself a coffee! And while I drink it, I’m probably turning the gears on a new idea to offer you.

So thank you, to all who offered their support, both financially and otherwise. It really means a lot to me. And I will continue doing my best to provide quality content that keeps you thinking and feeling.

A Merry Merry and a Happy Happy to everyone!

Flash Fiction – My Michaela

“You said your name was Mike.”

She smiled, her eyes large and soft and beautiful. She pulled out her license and showed it to me.

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s Michaela.”

“What about everything else? How could you mislead me?” This is what heartbreak felt like. This tearing in the center of your body, like something enormous and very, very angry was trying to get out.

“Amy, I’m in love with you. Have been from the beginning. I’m sorry… everything I’ve ever said to you was truth. You’re the other half of my soul.”

 

December 15, 2016 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) explore the importance of a name within a story. It can be naming an experience, introducing an extraordinary name, or clarifying a name (who can forget Who’s on First). Go where the prompt leads.

Flash Fiction – Old Friend

We scrambled up the familiar trail, shale cascading from beneath him like marbles. We’d reach the summit to stand and gander. Such views from the rim. Cobalt skies and red rock and always a vulture making his lazy circles.

I dropped to the ground 100 yards from the top, his breath too labored. I waited while he recovered, my hand on his shoulder.

Once arrived, we stood. I turned to see him kneeling; before he went down I slid the Winchester from the leather scabbard. Thirty years of these rides. It was time. I owed him this much.

 

December 8, 2016 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write using the word gander as a verb. A gander is a male goose, yet the Old English etymology of the word suggests it was once gandra which described a waterbird with a long neck (like a crane). In 1912, it became the act of taking a long look. What is the long look your story or character is considering?

Unbearable

SoCS

 

“I can’t bear it.”

“Bare it?” his eyes sparkled. “Of course you can, it looks lovely bare.”

“No, don’t!” She tried to laugh, wanted to laugh at him, and knew he was just trying to make her feel better, to lessen the burden of the coming days. But it wasn’t laughter that came out.

“Oh baby girl,” he sighed and pulled her into a bear hug. “I know. I do. It’s hard for me too.”

“Really?” Her words muffled against his rough coat lapel. She breathed his scent, lightly mingled with the heavy odors of diesel and cold.

“Of course. Being away from you is almost impossible.”

“I’m not being a baby?” She sniffed.

“You’re my baby. But no. It is hard to bear, for sure. But you know what?”

“What?” She leaned back and looked into his face.

“It will be over before you know it. You’ll be right back here, where you belong. Because you’re MY girl.”

She smiled as she always did when he said that. Somehow those words made everything a little easier.
 

Thank you to Linda for a great prompt. Head over to SoCS to be inspired and for the participation rules!

Accepted

Fill me with words of lust and care, of tenderness and need; of raking touches and tongues, of praying and fucking. Worship my body, let me worship yours. Running fingertips over your skin, over your scars, touching your flaws with reverence and wonder. Everything and nothing inside this moment against your vibrating body, and the sensations sing like tenors. Taste your sweat, your blood, your tears and fears and all those years of nothing. We’re found falling into this embrace and perhaps we’ll never let go, never wash it off, never be free of the mark. Eyes like tar, a smile like hunger. Surrounded by stars and satin, push me into the goose down with the hardness of your body, trap me here, eyes blind and limbs bound and make me yours as you are mine.

Cherish me and I will honor you. Fuck me and I will follow you. Make me forget and I will hold you here with my lust, my cunt, my lips. Stolen moments hidden from lives of normalcy. Do not let me down. Do not allow my fear. I will shelter in your breast, a secret you hold, and we’ll find it; our acceptance.

Coming Home

A story that chilled me right to the bone…

Kittykat-bitsandbobs

“Will you just GO?!” she giggled, pushing him away as he leaned down to kiss her one more time, “You’ll miss the train!”

“Ok, ok! There’s always another train anyway… but ok,” he smiled and lifted his bag, turning to unlock the front door. A blast of icy air hit her bare legs; she hopped and jogged on the spot.

“Fuck! Gotta scrape the windscreen,” he sighed.

“See? Now you really will be late! You should listen to your wife… she always knows best.”

“He! Yeah I got a genius one. Get your ass back up to bed, it’s cold.”

She reached up and squeezed him in a hug, “I love you, have a good day.”

He kissed her, not allowing the fact that she tried to wriggle out of his embrace because she hadn’t brushed her teeth stop him, “Love you too, gorgeous.” He locked the door behind him…

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Fetish

You pulled me in and held me with

your thoughts.

You placed my hands above my head and bound me

with nothing more than a word.

With savagery and tenderness you laid

your claim and left your marks.

Before we ever touched, I was yours.

June 1944

SoCS

 

“Shush!”

“What do you mean, ‘shush?’ Don’t shush me.”

“Would you prefer I do this?” She clapped her hand over the other’s mouth, and promptly got bitten. “OW! Heavens, Marcy.”

“Well. Don’t shush me. Or touch me.”

“I can’t hear a word if you keep nattering on. You never did know when to shut up.”

“Shouldn’t be eavesdropping anyway. You were always a nosy bitch.”

“You need to watch your language!”

“Make me.”

“What pushed you out of the wrong side of bed this morning anyway? You’re a crank pot.” Then she held up her hand, the one with the reddening teeth marks, and leaned her ear against the door.

“What are they saying?”

“That they’re going to put you up for adoption if you don’t smarten up.” There was a dark twinkle in Janie’s brown eyes. But suddenly it left. Her young face fell into an expression the younger sister perceived like a cold hand around her heart.

“What? What is it, Janie? Tell me! Is he coming home?” she hissed.

Janie looked at her with welled eyes and shook her head.

Marcy touched her shoulder. “It’s okay. Don’t cry.”

Janie kept shaking her head, the tears now spilling over her pale cheeks, and the cloud that descended on 1414 Chatham Street that day smothered them in a permanent hush.

 

Thank you to Linda for a great prompt. Head over to SoCS to be inspired and for the participation rules!

Flash Fiction – Wild Fire

It was the kind of kiss that started wild fires. He took her hand and held it with his in her lap. He leaned across the console. “Every touch is a promise,” he said, and his voice was soft and deep and warmed her like aged whisky. His lips brushed her nose, and she closed her eyes and instinctively tilted her head. How did she know to do that? It was not only their first kiss…

“But you’re not allowed,” he said, and the tip of his tongue brushed the cupid’s bow of her lip. “To fall.”

 

December 2, 2016 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about something or someone not allowed. Maybe it’s about gender, race or other intolerance. Maybe it’s the cat who paws at the door, but not allowed inside. Maybe it’s a trail where dogs are not allowed. Go light, go dark, go where the prompt leads you.