Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Burntcore Week 71: Light


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Burntcore's Choice: Picture 1


Lights bright, round and round. A laugh, a giggle ... a gigglesnort. Yes, a gigglesnort.

It was mesmerizing, watching the rope lights whirl around, drawing circles of color in the dim light of the room. Reflecting and refracting.

Instead of decorating for Christmas, we were creating imaginary places, mystical spaces within the globe of multi-colored light.

We had our very own rainbow, ours to control and to keep. There may not have been a pot of gold at the end of our rainbow, but the treasure wasn’t tangible. It wasn’t a thing.

It was us. It was this time together. It was every laugh, each moment.

I wish moments like this could last forever. I know they won’t, but there is always next year when it’s time to put up the lights again. Another moment to create colorful new worlds. Another moment in this perfect light.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Miss Beckie Louise Week 71: Our Ride to Melbourne

Miss Beckie Louise

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Miss Beckie Louise's Choice: both

Our Ride to Melbourne

Today we were going to Melbourne. I couldn't wait it was going to be an awesome day out with the family. It was our annual family reunion and we all get along with each other which was perfect. Not all families had that luxury.

We all got up early and had our breakfast before meeting out in the car. I had packed my iPod with me so I wouldn't be bored on the way there as it was a couple of hours.

The next few hours passed by quite quickly considering how long we were sitting down for. I looked out my window the entire ride and saw some gorgeous fields. There was one I liked so much I managed to take a picture of it without it looking blurry.

It was a rapeseed field. The horizon going on for miles and miles. Mountains were the only thing blocking the view and it looked so pretty. Once I found my favourite field I looked at the picture for the rest of the ride. I couldn't wait to pass it once again on the way home.

When we arrived at the reunion. I was passed along the family giving hugs and having my cheeks pulled by Nanny and Pop. I loved them like crazy but god do they pull hard!

I saw Danny, the only cousin in this place that I'm actually pretty close to. I gave him a hug, while my hand was over his mouth so I could pull his cheek down for a quick peck. This was how we always greeted each other. It was slightly weird but it worked for us.

“Have a good ride?” he asked me and wrapped his arm around me before pulling me out into the garden.

“Yeah, it was great!” I said.

The rest of the day passed quickly and soon enough it was time for going home. These reunions never last long enough. Especially if they only last for about 12 hours. It sucked but if we all saw each other too often we'd all feel suffocated.

I couldn't wait till next year. It was going to be great!

Friday, September 23, 2011

Muse Calliope Week 70: Miss Cupcake and Her Merry Men

Muse Calliope

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Muse Calliope's Choice: Picture 1

Miss Cupcake and Her Merry Men

If the trio had been human, Trinity would have been in very big trouble. Salem-witch-trials sort of double. Fortunately, thanks to shades being immune to the glamour of other Fae, the two males and the woman were revealed to be no more human than she.
The first of the males was unbelievably huge, like a football all-star or wrestling champ only much, much bigger. Damn, he had to be at least seven feet tall and, lucky her, every inch of that was wrapped tight in pure muscle. He reminded her of one those marines-turned-mercenary you’d see stereotyped in the movies; black army boots, black cargo pants, black t-shirt and both forearms tattooed with stylized dragons. He even had his black hair cropped close to his head, which had the added effect of showing off his wickedly long pointed ears. Also on the non-human side were his black tinted claws and long barbed tail. Oh, and when he grinned he flashed a rather impressive set of fangs to boot. If Trinity were to hazard a guess, she’d say he was beastkin – a sort of Fae that, well, was a bit more in touch with their beast natures than others.
The second male was equally inhuman but in an entirely different sense; he was simply too beautiful to be mortal. You know that saying about some people being so beautiful they make the angels weep? Well, this guy made those people look like trolls who’d taken a stroll through the ugly forest. His youthful face was the perfect balance of sharp angles and soft edges, his lips were full and plump enough to invite kisses and his ruby eyes twinkled with just the right blend of mischief and promise to entice. He was pale, but not too pale, with his long, steel grey hair held back from his face by a pair of stylishly twisted braids on either side. Unlike the Beast Boy, Angel Face was dressed in a dark, custom tailored Armani suit with a white silk shirt and red tie; toss in the platinum Rolex glinting on his right wrist and you had everything your modern vampire needed to play the wealthy playboy.
The woman seemed so out of place in comparison. She stood between the beastkin and the vampire wearing form fitting jeans and a dark green blouse that went perfectly with her long, elegantly layered red hair. Black rectangular glasses framed large, dark coloured eyes sprinkled with sparkling stars. Despite the woman’s rich tan, Trinity was still able to discern a smattering of freckles splashed across her nose and along her cheek bones. Unlike her companions, the only thing that betrayed her as something other than human her height; she was super model gorgeous in a less-than-five-feet-high packaging.
And, oddly enough, despite being the smallest and least threatening of the trio, it was the woman who set Trinity’s warning bells ringing. There was just something about her...sort of like that cute little dinosaur in the original Jurassic Park movie that was like a huggable, head-cocking puppy until his frilly hood snapped opened and he spat acid in the fat guy’s face. Yeah, human or not, these people were nothing good.
The woman glanced between Trinity and the ghost, a smile slowly curling her lips. “It would seem that a demon conjurer can summon a ghost,” she observed, her voice soft and flavoured by a lilting Irish accent. She held out her hand, palm up, between her two companions. “Pay up, Tru.”
The vampire sighed theatrically and pulled a wallet from his blazer’s inside pocket. He opened it and handed her several bills. “Perhaps some introductions, lumina mea?” he suggested, the vampire cliché carried over with an honest-to-God Romanian accent. “ The shade seems lost.”
“Oops.” The woman started forward, completely indifferent to Trinity’s circle. With a cry, Trinity flashed herself next to the woman; in that moment stopping the stranger from releasing the ghost was more important than keeping her distance.
“Sweetling, that circle isn’t needed now that I’m here.” Uh-huh. Sure it wasn’t. The woman was clearly insane; no question. “I hired you, by the way. Although, honestly, I had expected Max to contact Sharif.”
“Sharif was killed last month,” Trinity told her absently, more concerned with stepping away from the circle and allowing the ghost a wide birth than idle chitchat. “Aoife ordered him executed.”
The woman frowned, her brow furrowing as confusion filled her eyes. “Last month?”
The vampire glided closer, lightly running one hand down the woman’s arm. He lifted her hand in his and gently kissed her knuckles. Coincidentally, he also revealed her fingernails to be artfully painted with little cupcakes which seemed odd to Trinity. Here this woman was, dressed in designer clothes, accessorized with silver and emeralds, escorted by a beastkin and a vampire, and walking around with chibi cupcakes adorning all ten fingernails.
That had to be some kind of metaphor.
“We were in Tokyo, lumina mea, remember?” the vampire encouraged, brushing the woman’s hair back from her face as he spoke. “It was night and you were asleep when it happened; you thought it a nightmare at first.”
“I was there for him?”
“You are always there for us, Fi.” The beast kin spoke for the first time, his deep voice carrying a lyrical, almost musical cadence and a faint, Old French accent. “But I think Dumitru was referring to introductions; the shade does not know you.”
The woman smiled and blinked, suddenly refocusing her attention on Trinity with an intensity that made the skin between Trinity’s shoulder blades itch. “I did forget to introduce us, didn’t I? Trinity, I’m Savannah and these are my companions; the vampire is my mate, Dumitru and the beastkin is my bodyguard, Croix.”
Trinity frowned. “How did he get 'Fi' out of 'Savannah'?"
"Old friends use old nicknames." Savannah shrugged dismissively and looked back over at the ghost. "Tru, do we know how Jes died?"
The vampire - Dumitru - rubbed his mate's back, naked concern filled eyes. Trinity had the distinct impression she was missing something. "Yes, lumina mea, we do. Marna came to you and told you everything."
"Did she?" Savannah's gaze grew distant and faraway and she started to hum and walk around the circle, her fingers brushing along just millimeters from the outer boundary. "Hm, yes, I remember,” she murmured. Her voice seemed to suddenly take on a singsong quality, blending with her humming that continued to run beneath her words. “The little nymph came in the night, came in the night to be seen by my sight. Dead, dead, the nymph was dead but danced, danced, danced she did. 'My love is trapped,' she sang as she twirled. 'Please save my love,' she sang as she whirled."
Trinity’s patience snapped. She’d simply reached her boiling point, pure and simple. As if being in Prague performing blatant Fae magic in the middle of one of the city’s most precious historical sites wasn’t strain enough on her frazzled nerves, let’s add in some crazy people! “Um, excuse me? Miss Cupcake? Merry men? What the bloody hell is going on and what are you people doing here?”
The beastkin chuckled, folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the stone arch that served as the door’s frame. “Savannah is still a little bit broken,” he informed me, an affectionate smile tugging at his lips as he glanced at his charge. “Fortunately, however, her name isn’t Humpty Dumpty. As for what we are doing here, as Savannah has said, she hired you to raise the ghost of an old friend because his dead mate came to her and asked for help.”
"That's not possible," Trinity objected. "Aoife made sure anyone with even a trace of necromancy died long, painful deaths that no doubt trailed them into the afterlife. No one can talk to the dead anymore, not without a circle and a summoning ritual."
"Obviously it's more improbable than impossible. The bard there is Jester and Savannah wants to know how he died."
Well, that at least was something Trinity to could wrap her head around. What's more, once the crazy lady had her answer Trinity could get the hell out of Prague and hightail it to a nice, secluded beach somewhere tropical.
She spun around to tell Miss Cupcake to get the show on the road just in time to see the other woman step over the circle's salt line, shattering it's power with an audible pop.
The ghost was free.
Three hundred fucking years old - she really should have known better that to jinx herself.

A/N: To be continued next week!

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Burntcore Week 70: Color


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Burntcore's Choice: both


She should be happy. She had the life that many would dream about, but it was all so dull. Sure, she was beautiful, had expensive clothes and a healthy bank account, but the life of a model wasn’t everything it was cracked up to be. Despite everything she had, all she saw was drab in black and white. Sure, she was thankful, but what purpose was she filling? She posed and walked down a catwalk for a living. Who was she helping by doing that? Oh yes, she was helping the bottom line of the designers.

She just wanted to find a purpose in life. Something to make her life matter.

Standing outside of an outdoor festival, Moira watched as people walked from booth to booth, looking at something before moving on. She saw color in their lives, something she wished she could find. However, she wasn’t sure she could find it in any booth.

Laughter cold be heard, and music played from a local band around the corner. Moria thought they were pretty decent. She bobbed her head to the music as she continued to people watch. She still felt like an outsider, a voyeur to how real people really lived.

As she watched, she noticed a woman and a small child drifting from the different booths. The woman’s clothing looked practically threadbare compared to Moira’s. The child’s wasn’t much better. The boots Moira was wearing cost more than all their clothes combined.

The little girl walked with her eyes huge, like she was in awe of her surroundings. Moira wondered if this was the first time the girl had been to a festival. It had been a long time for Moira, not since she was a teenager, before she was discovered and before her life became so meaningless.

Something caught the little girl’s eye and she stopped, pulling excitedly on her mother’s sleeve. Moira heard the girl pleading wit her mother asking if they could buy one of whatever was on display . The mother shook her head, saying something about how they couldn’t afford it. The child stared longingly at the booth, even as her mother dragged her away, but said nothing further.

As they walked, the mother and child approached someone handing out free bottles of water. The woman eagerly grabbed one for her and her daughter. They walked past Moira, the woman glancing briefly at Moira’s clothing before flickering down at her tatty clothing. The woman’s face became blank as she stood a little straighter as they continued to walk. Her dismissal angered Moira. The woman never bothered to look past the superficial. There was more to Moira than just her fancy clothes.

Finally spurred on to be more than a living clothing rack, Moira walked into the festival. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for but she was sure she’d know it when she saw it. She was determined to find something that would give Moira purpose. Moira was about to make her second pass through when she saw it.

It was a booth of cheap, plastic sunglasses in a rainbow of colors. They even had little hearts on them. The booth owner didn’t seem to be having much success at selling them that day. When Moira saw the price, she understood. Ten dollars was a bit steep for a dollar’s worth of plastic. However, Moira also saw how many kids looked eagerly at the table, the bright colors catching their eye. Their parents saw the price and balked, knowing it was too much money even for a simple bauble.

Resolved, Moira marched up to the owner and told him she’d take all of them. The man didn’t seem to understand just what she meant at first so she spelled it out for him.

“I want to buy every single pair of these sunglasses on the table. Each and every one. In fact, I’ll take the table too. Here’s my card. Just run it up and go.”

She waved her debit card in front of the man’s face a few times before she said really sank in. Deftly, he swiped her card, charging her an exorbitant amount of money for his nearly worthless wares.

“What are you going to do with them?” he asked as he gathered up his cash box and receipts.

“I’m going to give them away to whomever wants one,” Moira said simply, walking behind the table, plucking the price sign from the table, and throwing it in the garbage.

“Giving them away?” he sputtered, his face confused. “Why?”

“Because I can,” Moira replied.

Looking over the table, she quickly grabbed a red pair of sunglasses and put them on top of her head. She didn’t want them over her eyes, but she wanted to show people what they were.

The man shook his head and walked off, never looking back. Moira shrugged as she looked around, a feeling of happiness taking over. She hoped that little girl would come back over so Moira could give the little girl a pair in every color, for ever day of the week.

A few children came by, and before the parents could pull their children away, Moira said that they were free to deserving little girls and boys. The children’s eyes lit up as they asked in their small, innocent voices if they were deserving enough. Moira laughed and asked which color they wanted.

Before long, the stock of sunglasses started to dwindle as more children came by, the word spreading of the beautiful woman giving away sunglasses. As Moira hoped, the little girl and her mother that she first saw made their way back over to the booth. The woman’s face reflected surprise at seeing her behind this booth.

“I thought a man was running the booth,” the woman commented softly.

“He was. I bought him out,” Moira replied as she watched the little girl look over the sunglasses, touching a few.


“Because I could. Too many children wanted one but the man was charging too much. Now, the kids can have them.”

The woman’s eyes softened. Her little girl continued to examine the sunglasses, going back and forth between two particular colors.

“You like those two?” Moira asked.

The little girl nodded wistfully. “We can’t afford them,” she said.

“Sure you can. They are free to deserving little girls, and I think you deserve not just one but two pairs!”

The little girl’s eyes became as large as saucers as she looked towards her mother. Her mother nodded and the girl carefully picked the two pairs she had been looking at before. One was a red pair like Moira’s own, the other was a bright neon green.

“Oh, you picked a red pair, just like mine!” Moira exclaimed, touching her pair in her hair.

The little girl nodded. “I picked them because of you. I hope I am as beautiful as you are when I grow up.”

Moira’s eyes misted and her lip trembled. “You already are, sweetheart.”

The child’s mother glowed at the compliment, before thanking Moira and leading her daughter away with her new sunglasses. Moira felt a feeling of accomplishment that she hadn’t felt in years.

This was what would give her life purpose. Not necessarily giving away free sunglasses, but just giving back to those who deserve it. She wouldn’t just give money to charity, she would be an active participant. Maybe she would start up a charity of her own. Something that would mean more than walking down a runway. Something that would mean more and give her life purpose.

After her last pair of sunglasses were given away, Moira drove back to her apartment miles from the festival, downtown from the suburbia she was just in. She looked over all her possessions, some of which she didn’t recall even buying. Moira knew she liked having nice things, and was happy that her lifestyle allowed her to be able to have nice things, but she also wanted others to be able to have nice things too. Moira decided that she would sell off some of her things, not everything, but the things she didn’t even notice. Perhaps someone else would like them better.

For the first time, Moira knew that when she woke up the next day, her life wouldn’t be dull and drab any longer, but full of color and life.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Kimmydonn Week 70: Resignation


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Kimmydon's Choice: both


She looked down at the boy splayed in the grass. He had no idea how he’d hurt her. To him it was all a game. He probably thought being honest was good for her. Well, he had helped her. He had made her see what a stupid idea hers had been, saved her the pain of trying and failing. He had tried to pull her down with him, to look up and see the sunshine, but it felt like she was under a cloud. Her own personal rain cloud. She turned from him, from his laughter and smiles, none of them suited her.

Instead she wandered down the road to another park, this one for trains. It had been busy in the past, but now had an air of abandon. The sun seemed less bright the longer she walked, the closer she came to the tracks. The weather sensed her mood and reflected it, a storm gathering. As the first raindrop hit her cheek, she felt the tears she had fought well up. It had always been that way. It always rained when she cried.

She sat on the track that no train had been on in days. They came sometimes, eventually. She would just wait. She curled up on the gravel and listened, the sky crying with her.

A/N: This is a resignation of sorts. I'm taking a leave from picprompt and most writing. After a few particularly bad weeks, I'm unable to continue. I'm sure I'll be back some day.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Miss Beckie Louise Week 70: First Date

Miss Beckie Louise

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Miss Beckie Louise's Choice: both

First Date

A/N: The restaurant in this prompt does exist in the wonderful land of the UK. I don't know if there is one in the US. But there should be if there isn't. Hope you enjoy this prompt.

Tonight was my first date with Kevin. I couldn't wait! I was looking forward to it a lot. I knew it would just be perfect. I didn't know where he was taking me, all I knew was to dress comfortably, so I got my clothes ready. I picked a cute black and white striped top and a comfy pair of jeans. I also picked out some black dolly shoes. With a nod of my head, I knew I had picked out the right outfit for my date.

The rest of my day passed by quickly and soon enough it was time to get ready for the date. I showered and shaved before moisturizing and then putting on the pre-decided clothing. I was just finishing off putting on my make up when my door bell rang.

I ran downstairs before opening the door, silently kicking myself about being “too eager”.

“Hi,” I said as I saw Kevin for the first time. He looked so yummy dressed in a leather jacket and jeans.

“Hey, these are for you,” he said and gave me a bunch of pink flowers. I loved them.

“One minute, I'll go put them in water,” I told him before making my way into the kitchen. I got out a vase and filled it with water before putting the flowers inside. I'd sort them out when I got home.

I got back to Kevin and locked the door. We walked down the path and into the street before we came to a stop by his car.

He opened my door and I got in, quickly doing my belt up. He got in the car and started the engine.

“You look beautiful,” he told me as he pulled into the street.

“Thank you. So do you,” I blurted out.

He laughed and said a quiet, “thank you.”

“So where are we going?” I asked after a few minutes.

“Do you like Italian?” he asked. I told him I did and then told me we were going to Zizi's.

“I love Zizi's. Their pizza and pasta is just amazing,” I told him.

“Good,” he said.

We soon pulled up at a car park that wasn't far from the restaurant at all. We walked in and quickly got seated. The meal was amazing. We got to know each other a bit better. We had been friends for a while, but this was different. We were learning things you would only share with a significant other.

In no time at all, we were leaving the restaurant and headed out hand-in-hand. We walked down the street and stopped on a paved hillside overlooking the beach. Kevin sat down and patted the space next to him and I followed suit. He wrapped his arms around me and I leaned into him.

We just sat there looking out at the scenery around us.

I dropped my pen in my diary and looked up.

“That was the best date ever,” I sighed and closed my diary, turned off my light and headed off to sleep.

Friday, September 16, 2011

Muse Calliope Week 69: Glamours & Jinxes

Muse Calliope

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Muse Calliope's Choice: both

Glamours & Jinxes (Trinity Shade Pt. II)

One of Trinity’s favourite things about being Fae was her ability to glamour. Over eight hundred years ago, the Fae had been a hell of a lot more powerful; you must have read the fairy tales, heard the legends? Yes, well, if the Brothers Grimm had been around eight centuries sooner those little snapshots they’d taken of Fae life would have made Greek myths pale in comparison. Unfortunately, right about the time the Fae were settling in to their happily ever after, Aoife, the Winter King's exiled Consort, staged a coup and killed the King. According to magic and tradition, his only daughter, Princess Fionnuala, should have ascended to the Winter Throne and over at the Summer Court their Queen Emer should have stepped aside and allowed her son, Brennus, to become King. It was one of the Rules that bound the Fae; always a King and Queen would rule the Courts but never the same Court and never together. But when Lyr died, all the Rules were broken; Emer kept her Summer crown, Aoife stole the Winter throne, Brennus became little more than a glorified doll and Fionnuala simply vanished.

Trinity hadn’t been around then but she had been around a hundred years ago; that was when things for the Fae had really gone into a decline. Before, a sort of plateau had been reached and, while none of the Fae had grown in power, none of them had lost any either. Then, sometime in 1899, it was like the scale and tipped and suddenly the power of the Fae was lessening. A lot of what the Fae had been was lost over the years, a lot of gifts, but the glamour, while weakened, had remained and Trinity couldn’t be more grateful for that. As a shade, her natural skin tone was silvery grey, her eyes were a dark charcoal from lid to lid and thickly lined in black that trailed down her cheeks like tears, and her black hair, no matter how often it was cut, was always tipped in a swirling rainbow of colours. While modern trends gave her some leeway, glamour allowed her to mask her appearance and pass more fully as human.

Being a shade allowed Trinity to blend with the shadows as she walked through the castle’s hallways towards the throne room. It allowed her to pass as nothing more than a shadow so far as the security footage would be concerned. Glamour, however, made it so any mortal that saw her traipsing around after hours wouldn’t actually see her; her glamour would convince them she wasn’t there, not really, she was just a trick of the light.

At least, that was how it was supposed to work. In Prague...In Prague, these things tended to be more iffy.
Mostly because the people of Prague equated the Fae with hellspawn and went all out trying to keep the Fae out of their city. Wiping the Fae off the planet would have made them happiest, but the Fae were, for obvious reasons, not aboard with that plan. They had calmly informed the city that the Fae predated human civilization by several millennia and would more than likely outlast it as well; were the people of Prague to interfere with that in any way, not only would they fail, but the Fae had no problems returning the favour. And the Fae wouldn’t fail.

Unfortunately, this still left Prague armed to the nines in anti-Fae charms and technologies with an entire police force dedicated to killing any Fae (or Fae halfbreed) that wandered within their borders. Fun place, Prague.

But, again, all Trinity had to do was get herself to the throne room, summon a ghost, ask some questions and hightail it out of there. Piece of cake.

Or, at least it should have been. Finding the throne room had turned out to be easier than she expected; despite being the closed-off section of the castle there had still been clearly marked signs leading the way. It even went well when Trinity set up her circle and infused it with energy. Unlike most magic practitioners, Trinity’s circles not only kept whatever she conjured bound within its confines, it also emanated a spell to keep mortals away. Sort of like Hogwarts but downscaled and, you know, real. She even managed to summon the ghost.

Now, here it really should be pointed out that Trinity wasn’t a necromancer, neither naturally or by trade. Trinity was a Shade, sure, and that gave her some affinity for the dead, sure, but her powers laid more in the way of shadows and darkness than ghosts. In fact, once Aoife stole the Winter Throne, a huge manhunt had occurred, purging all the human bloodlines that had any trace of the gift. Any Fae that had the gift had that particular power Bound, rendering it useless. Trinity was a practiced conjurer by trade, which was why she’d be offered the job to begin with; the theory being that if she could conjure demons, she could conjure a ghost. And, what do you know, she had. A young tourist who’d been killed in the throne room a decade past, the ghost was dressed in a buttoned-up denim shirt and jeans with wild, unevenly cut brown hair and dark eyes. His rolled-up sleeves allowed the tattoos running from his elbows to the tips his fingers to be see, the most ironic of which being the words “LIVE” and “FREE” the ran across the knuckles of either hand. Add in the guitar he had slung across his back and he was just your quintessential rocker-turned-roundabout.

Nope, the problem arose just after that when the door to the throne room, which Trinity knew for a fact she’d locked behind her, opened and three people just waltzed right in, catching Trinity kneeling on the far side of the room and the ghost, who really couldn’t be mistaken for anything but what he was, hovering just in front of her.

Three hundred fucking years old - she really should have known better that to jinx herself.

A/N: To be continued next week!

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Burntcore Week 69: An Man's Ode to the Condom


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Burntcore's Choice: Picture 2

A Man’s Ode to the Condom

Oh, small square foil packet
How I love you

You provide the path to the promise land
Wrapped around me securely
And keeping me from getting an awkward call
In a few months time.

True, you dull the sensation
But without you, I’d be alone
Rosie is only so much fun
And I don’t want carpel tunnel

So, I’ll take you with me
Wherever I go
In my pocket
In my coat
In my glovebox
In my drawer

Oh, foil wrapped condom
I do love you
And I love what
You help me get into

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Kimmydonn Week 69: Congrats!


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Kimmydon's Choice: both


Dan didn’t say anything else, handing me back my notebook. He turned and walked away. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Pushing my glasses up my nose, I slowly followed him out. He was leaning against a chain link fence outside, staring at his feet. His hands were clenching and twisting in his shirt and his face would shift between an awful grimace and a simple frown.

I wasn’t sure what to make of that, either. I wasn’t expecting him to be thrilled, but this wasn’t even definite yet. I hadn’t taken a test; I was just a week late and going out of my mind with worry. On the one hand, it was nice to finally share that anxiety with someone. On the other, I wasn’t sure what was going through Dan’s head right now, but it didn’t look good.

“Dan?” I asked very softly, not quite within reach.

His head snapped up. “I’m okay,” he said quickly, raking fingers through his hair. “It’ll be okay, Chase.”

I smiled at the name. He couldn’t be too bad off. “I’m not sure, you know? I haven’t tested positive.”

He nodded looking away again, sighing heavily. “Yeah.” He swallowed hard. “That’s good. Might be nothing, right?”

“Right,” I agreed. I took another step toward him, still cautious.

“Geez,” he complained, grabbing me into a hug. “Don’t be scared of me, okay? I’m not mad. Scared, totally, but not mad.”

I sighed in relief this time. “Right. Scared. Nice to finally share that with someone.”

“You haven’t taken a test yet? Are you waiting for something? How late?” he asked, looking over the top of my glasses into my eyes.

“A week. Probably worth testing now. Wouldn’t have been much good earlier. Do you ... want to be there?” I wanted him there. I wanted someone there.

“I’d like that.” His voice sounded wrong, too tight, strained. “We can do this.”

I smiled weakly. “Do what? Be parents? Really?”

He gripped my hand tightly. “Why not?”

I sighed quietly. “Because I’m the only one of us with a steady job?”

“I can get one,” he retorted. “I just ... don’t want to.” The grin was back. “Not that I won’t.” His eyes were serious, although the smile stayed, steadying me.


”What do you need me to do?” the Prince asked, holding her hands tightly.

“I need you to go. As far as you can, in as many directions as you can.”

He nodded solemnly. “I can do that. Then I’ll come back. You’re sure you don’t need me to do ... something princely?”

She chuckled. “No. I need you to be you.”

He sighed. “Thank God. I’m good at that.”

Marla had just put on the coffee when Dan knocked on the door. She frowned slightly and then got a robe. I didn’t bother.

“You know, Jenn,” she complained loudly, “you shouldn’t leave things like this on the bathroom counter. It’s not sanitary.”

She held the pregnancy test I had just taken.

“I thought you were going to wait for me?” Dan asked, crestfallen.

“I really had to pee,” I whined, pushing up my glasses.

“You didn’t miss anything interesting,” Marla moaned, dropping the stick in my hands. “It’s negative.” She continued to the fridge while I rose and turned to hug Dan.

There was a thud and I turned to see what had made the noise. A cake sat on the table. I laughed, then ran to hug Marla, too.

Dan snorted. “What were you going to do if it was positive?”

She shrugged. “Drown your sorrows in chocolate?”

Sounded good to me.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Miss Beckie Louise Week 69: Grandma? Is that you?

Miss Beckie Louise

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Miss Beckie Louise's Choice: Picture 1

Grandma? Is that you?

“Grandma? Is that you?” I asked her one morning while pouring through her old photo albums.

She toddled over to where I was sitting and peered over my shoulder. She let out a soft gasp and gingerly touched the picture.

“Wow, I haven't seen this picture in such a long time,” she replied.

I looked at the picture more closely, now looking at my grandma at such a young age. She was so pretty. The picture was obviously in black and white. She was wearing a long cloak and wearing a hat. It looked quiet “manly”. Its the only way I can describe it. Her hair, dark was long and flowed over her shoulders. She looked like she was thinking hard about something.

“What were you doing, Grandma?” I asked after looking at her picture for several moments.

“I honestly can't remember, my dear. It was so long ago.”

“Oh,” I replied. “You know? You were really really pretty, Grandma.”

“Thank you, my little one.” She bent my head back a little bit and then kissed me on the forehead before turning and walking out of the room.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Burntcore Week 68: The Past, Present, and Future


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Burntcore's Choice: both

The Past, Present, and Future

A/N The 9/11 coverage has been pretty omnipresent on the news and everywhere this week. For some reason, when I saw these pictures I had been assigned this week, this is what came to me. This is dedicated to all those who lost someone from the 9/11 attacks and the war that followed.

She held the black and white photo in her hands, doing her best to keep her fingerprints off of it. It was one of her favorite memories of her time with Andrew. That’s all she had left, were memories and photos ... and their son.

In the photo, they weren’t even married yet. She and Andy took a vacation during their summer break between their junior and senior years of college. They were driving along the coast with some friends and had stopped at this small sandy beach that was surrounded by rocks. It was so much fun. They spent the whole day there, with Andy’s friend Raj taking pictures of everything.

Cecilia could kiss Raj now, if he were alive. Without his pictures, she wouldn’t have this momento of their life ... of their past.

Anthony came running through the front door, his ten year old body a bundle of energy. Without even stopping his momentum, he dropped his bookbag on the floor near the living room and came charging towards Cecilia.

“Mooooooom! I’m home!” He plowed into his mother’s waiting arms, who had just moments before put the picture down on the table.

“Hey sweetie,” Cecilia said, brushing a lock of hair from her son’s forehead. He looked so much like his father. “Did you have a good day at school?”

Anthony nodded and sat down on a chair next to hers at the table. “It was okay. The teachers were talking a lot about the memorial today.”

“Yeah, well, it’s important,” Cecila said softly.

“I know. Dad’s going to be on it, right?”

“Yes, he will. He and Uncle Raj are going to be listed on it together, on the same section.”

Anthony picked up the picture that Cecilia had set down. He had seen the picture many times over the years and studied the man in the picture who he never met.

“I wish I could have met him, Uncle Raj I mean ... and of course, Dad too.”

“Me too, sweetheart, me too,” Cecilia replied sadly, rubbing her son’s back.

Years after the picture was taken, Andrew and Cecilia found themselves on the east coast, living in a small bungalow in Brooklyn, far from the California coast but by a different shore near the channel. Andrew had gotten his dream job with an investment company and had just been transferred to the main office in New York City. Cecilia was a school teacher.

By some luck, Andrew’s old college friend Raj worked at the same investment firm. The two men hadn’t seen one another for some years and they enjoyed catching up on each other’s lives. Raj and his new bride, Smita, became a frequent visitor to their home, sharing stories over dinner.

They were settling into what they deemed their perfect life. Their house was modest but fit their needs. While Andrew had his dream job, the investment industry was still volitile so they didn’t take on more than what they could easily afford. They dreamed of filling two of the three bedrooms of their home with children, and possibly a shaggy dog or two.

Andrew and Cecilia were well on their way to that goal in 2001. She was pregnant with their first child and they were pet parents to a crabby but lovable orange tabby. The cat was crabby when she didn’t want to be petted and lovable when she wanted attention. It was a source of amusement for the couple to watch the moods of their mercurial cat. As Cecilia’s pregnancy progressed, her moods became even more volitle than the cat’s. Andrew didn’t find that as humorous. They also found out that Smita was expecting as well. Cecilia and Smita grew closer, sharing the bond of impending motherhood.

Like so many other days, that September morning was like any other. Never in a million years would Cecilia have thought that the last time she’d see her husband was when he left for work that morning, heading in early for an important conference call.

She and Smita sat in a daze in her living room as they watched the news coverage on the television. Even heading outside was enough to confirm what was on the television and the radio. The skyline she had come to know and love was a smoky haze, and missing a key fixture.

For days after, weeks later even, she kept looking out her window hoping that her husband would come driving or walking up their road … but he never appeared. He was gone, only the kicking of her baby reminding Cecilia that she will always have a part of him with her.

Smita and Cecilia stayed close, mutual loss further strengthening their bond. When the nights were too rough for either woman to be alone, they would crash at each other’s homes and be there for one another. A month later, they found a support group for 9/11 widows. They always knew they weren’t alone, but finding others to lean on helped them immensely.

A few months later, Anthony was born, healthy and hale and the spitting image of his father. Cecilia was still grieving the loss of her husband and clung to her son. Smita’s bright-eyed baby girl was born a few short weeks later, named Regina in honor of her father. Both women rejoiced that their children were born without complications despite the stress of the last several months.

Time passed, the pain of Andrew’s abrupt and sudden death receeding but never going away. Tony and Reggie, as Regina came to be known, grew, learning about their fathers through their mothers and friends. The four of them made a special trip every year to the cemetery in remembrance.

As the country healed, so did Cecilia, Smita, and their children. They moved on, went on with their lives.

Which lead to the present, ten years later. Cecilia promised Tony that she would take him and Reggie to see Harry Potter this weekend. There was a special screening of all the movies on Saturday that the kids had been looking forward to for some time. Cecilia hoped that the movies would help distract them from all the 9/11 coverage. She didn’t want her son to forget, but she also didn’t think her not quite ten year old son needed to be inundated with all different shows and specials that were being aired.

“We’re still going to the Hogwarts-a-thon, right, Mom?” Tony asked, pulling Cecilia from her thoughts.

“Yes, sir,” she replied with a smile. “Smita and Reggie are going to be here at 9:30 tomorrow morning to head to the theater. I picked up the tickets a few weeks ago and I even stopped by a costume store and got you your own pair of Harry Potter glasses!”

“Wow, really?”

“Really!” Cecilia said with a laugh, pulling the glasses out of a small bag on the table.

Tony eagerly grabbed the glasses and slipped them on his face, his smile from ear to ear. His excitement only faltered when he glanced at the picture of his parents on the table. Cecilia noticed his change of mood and pulled him close to her.

“Momma, I wish I was a real wizard,” Tony said softly as he gripped her shirt tightly.

“Why’s that, little man?”

“Cause I’d find a spell to bring Dad back ... and Uncle Raj and everyone else,” he whispered.

“Oh, Anthony.” Cecilia sighed and squeezed her son that much tighter. She long wished for such a thing could happen, but knew it wasn’t possible. The past couldn’t be changed. While in the present, they grieved, the future held much promise.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Kimmydonn Week 68: The Signing


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Kimmydon's Choice: both

The Signing

With an exasperated sigh, the knight, Daniel, knelt before his Princess and assembled court. In her hands she raised the anointing oil and spoke her spell loudly.

“And so I bind you, to this Kingdom, to these people, and to me, as husband.”

He flinched.

The princess ground her teeth at his obvious lack of decorum. “I thought you wanted to marry me,” she whispered.

“When did I say that?” he answered as quietly. “Just get it over with.”

Without further ceremony she dumped the contents over his head. “Rise, Prince Daniel.” Without waiting for him to obey her command, she turned and strode quickly from the dais and the hall.

The murmurs of the assembly followed her until she slammed the door shut behind her. She started to cast locking charms, but Daniel was too quick. He yanked it open and seized her raised arms, pulling them to his chest.

“I love you,” he declared, still holding her roughly. “I want to protect you. I don’t want... this,” he grumbled tossing the plain gold band from his head to the floor. “I don’t want this,” he continued, yanking the medallion from his neck. “I want this.” He lifted her from her feet and carried her off, his lips meeting hers.

“Relax, Chase. These people are coming to look at books, not you.” Dan’s smirk settled my nerves in short order. “Besides, that picture you used will guarantee no one associates you with The Reluctant Prince Daniel. Did I thank you for naming that obnoxious knight after me? Since you’re using a pen-name, you really should have named the princess Jennifer or Genevieve or something.” He snorted pulling a copy of Rolling Stone off the magazine rack.

I turned the copy of my book over in my hand. I’d done it. I’d found an editor and paid him. I’d formatted it the way the printer wanted, and as a result, I held proof that I had written a story. And apparently it wasn’t unpopular. Although I used a pseudonym, the store owner knew I was a local author and pitched my book to his clientele accordingly.

So popular, in fact, that I’d printed another ten copies to sell on consignment at the store.

Looking at the back of the book, I smiled at the mysterious woman with a feathered mask. It actually was me, but I’d been goofing around with the photographer’s stash of props. It was my favourite from the shoot, and I thought it suited Meredith Maxim quite well.

Dan kept a hand on my shoulder as my eyes darted around the store. He thought I was nervous, but actually, I was scanning the shelves for something to buy. We passed a man sitting on the floor with a book open in his lap. I almost tripped when I saw it was mine.

“You planning on paying for that?” Dan asked.

The young man looked up. He couldn’t be much older than us. “What? Oh, yes. I definitely will be.” He pushed up his glasses and I echoed, smashing the lenses of my glasses into my eyelashes. He noticed the books in my arm. “Are you... the author?” he asked in mild disbelief, turning over his copy to look at my picture.

“Um, yes.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Meredith. Would you sign this copy for me?” he asked, holding it out.

“Uh, I...” Dan was no help, sweeping my books from my arms and producing a pen with a flip of his fingers. “Show off,” I grumbled, but took the pen. “Who should I make it to?” I was already signing my name.


To Jonathon, recipient of one of the first editions and the first signed copy.”

“Thanks. Uh, who is Jennifer?” he asked.

Dan laughed loudly. I blushed bright and shoved my glasses up my nose. “That’s my real name. Meredith is a penname.” It was doubtful Jonathon could hear my whisper.

“Oh,” he said with a grin. “Well, thanks, Jennifer.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek before passing us to the cash register. I continued to the back, planning to set the copies on the pile of receiving. I wouldn’t have thought more about it if Dan hadn’t piped up.

“You let him kiss you? You going to let all your fans do that?”

I chuckled. “Jealous?”

“Only a little,” he grumbled.

“Have you read my latest?” I asked, setting the books on the pile. That ought to quiet his jealousy.

“No.” He pulled my notebook from my bag. He paled. “Really?”

My lips were tight. I had no answer for him.

The Princess pulled her hair back, straightening slowly. Her breakfast had returned on her the fourth day in a row. She was glad she’d renewed the protection spells recently. Her magic would start to fail next. Everything would return to normal once the baby was born, though.

“Daniel,” she called. “I need you to tour the perimeter.”

He lay languidly in their bed. “Why? Is that the sort of thing
Princes do?”

“Please, don’t be childish. I’m not going to be able to renew the protection spells for a while, so I need to be sure nothing is encroaching.”

He sat up. “Why can’t you renew the spells?”

She sighed. “Because I’m pregnant.”

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Bronwyn Week 68: Autumn Memories

Bronwyn Keith

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Bronwyn’s Choice: Picture 2

Autumn Memories

Stepping into the crisp autumn air, Savannah stopped on her porch to close her eyes to enjoy the sensations that are autumn. She savored the scent of the moist earth getting ready to slumber, the cool breeze against her cheeks, and the rustling of the dry leaves in the big oak tree in the yard. She slowly opened her eyes, sat on the porch, and looked at the tree. The tree was the center of many happy childhood memories for Savannah, and one painful memory. Which the autumn air brought to mind while she looked at the tree. The memory wrapped her in its embrace and made her relive that terrible day.

15 years before

Savannah sat at the base of her tree while she read her biology text book. Growing bored with the in depth descriptions of cells. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the tree trunk. Images of gogli bodies, ribosomes, and mitochondria danced against her eyelids. She forced her mind from the cell parts and focused on the romance novel she had read the night before. It was one of the newest Silhouette Special Editions by Ingrid Weaver. It was about a woman who needed help to find her lost niece. In the middle of the winter she went in to snow covered mountains to find the man with psychic abilities who could help her. Savannah enjoyed the book but she had a test in biology the next week and had to concentrate on that. Instead, she cleared her mind and enjoyed the sounds of nature around her.

She must of dozed off, because later she came awake to someone running the back of their fingers down the side of her face. She opened her eyes and looked at Damien. He was crouched next to her, watching her.

“Hi.” Savannah whispered as she looked him over. He was dressed in his signature Wranglers, with a grey shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders. She had known Damien since they were in second grade. She remembered his first day. Mrs. Davenport had him take the seat next to her. From that day forward, they were inseparable. In high school they dated other people, but their friendship took center stage in their young lives. At senior prom, after Damien's date left with someone else, they danced and kissed. That night she had given herself to him. They kept the change in their relationship secret. It was so new, they didn't want to share it with other people. She had come home from college that weekend, because he asked her too.

“Hi beautiful.” He said quietly before leaning forward to take her lips in a soft gentle kiss. He pulled back and sat on the ground next to her. He reached over and picked up the biology book, which was still open to where she left off. “Cell structure, huh? That must be boring.”

Savannah chuckled. “Yes, but I have to learn it for my test next week.” She reached over and laid her hand on his, curling her fingers around his. He gently squeezed her fingers. He closed the book and set it aside.

“I've missed you, Vanna.” He said, using his nickname for her, as he pulled her in to his lap and wrapped his arms around her. She sighed and laid her head against his broad chest. She had missed him too. If his loan hadn't been denied, he would have been at the same university with her. Instead he lived at home while he worked to raise money to go to college. “I know we talk every night, but I need to know you're truly doing okay. This is the first time we haven't seen each other every day.” Savannah smiled at his concern.

“I'm doing fine, Damien. I miss you like crazy, but I'm surviving at college.” She pressed her lips against his jaw before nibbling the whiskered skin. Her lips moved to his and gave him a scorching kiss. One that was full of heat and love.

Savannah put her hands on his shoulders while she adjusted her position until she straddled his lap. She moaned as she felt his hardness press against her softness. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she moved her hips against his.

His hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer. His hands roamed up her back, brushing against the bare skin under her shirt. He moved them to her front and undid the front clasp of her bra. Her generous breasts filled his hands. He moaned at the feel of her, brushing his calloused thumbs over her erect nipples. He buried his lips against her neck as she arched in to his touch. He only wanted to play a little bit, until he could get her alone and naked, but before he knew it he had his hands on the button of her jeans.

“These are in the way.” He whispered against her neck. “I want you right now.”

“Please Damien.” She said as she ground her hips in to his. He moved his hands to her hips and held her to him. Not allowing her to move.

“We need to go somewhere so we aren't seen.” He moved his lips over her jaw to her lips. The kiss was hot and needy. He pulled back to see her eyes half closed with arousal and her lips swollen. He wanted to beat his chest and announce to the world his claim of Savannah.

“What in the hell do you think you're doing with my daughter?” Savannah pulled away from Damien to see her father coming toward them. Damien's hands tightened on her hips briefly before he lifted her off his lap. After he placed her on the ground, Damien stood and faced her father.

“Well, Bill, I think it's quite obvious what I'm doing with your daughter.” Damien replied. “Besides, what happens between me and your daughter is none of your business.”

“The hell it isn't. She is my daughter. I have watched you over the years and I know what kind of boy you are. I refuse to allow a poor womanizing slacker to date my daughter.” Bill stopped for a moment and looked at Savannah's shocked face. “You are not worthy of my little girl. I want you to leave and you are never to contact Savannah again.”

Damien clenched his hands to fists, ready to take a swing at Savannah. But he knew that Bill was right, he wasn't worthy to receive Savannah's pure unconditional love. Even though he loved her with his whole being, he understood that he was a bad influence on her life. Damien walked over to where Savannah sat. He crouched in front of her, giving her a soft kiss.

She knew what he would to say before he said it. Her eyes filled with tears as she shook her head in denial. “Please don't.” She begged, grabbing his hands. “Please don't leave me.”

Damien sighed and leaned his forehead against hers. “I have to babe. Your father is right. I don't deserve you. You need someone who is like you and who isn't trapped here.” He gave her another kiss before he pulled away from her. “Bye, Vanna.” Damien turned and walked away. Savannah watched him with tears flowing down her face. When he disappeared around the corner, she stood and faced her father.

“I hate you.” She said through her tears. “You just took away the one thing that made me happy.” She ran past him in to the house.

Savannah wiped away the stray tears as she remembered that terrible day. She never saw or heard from Damien again. For weeks, she would call and leave him messages but he never once called her back. After her letters started being returned, she gave up and dove in to her classes with single minded determination. She had graduated at the top of her Animal Science class and then later the top of her Veterinary Class.

Savannah never forgave her father and didn't visit him until after his car accident. She visited him in the hospital, where he apologized to her about Damien. She accepted his apology even thought she still didn't forgive him. He died while she sat at his bed side.

Ten years later she still couldn't forgive him for taking away the love of her life. Since the day Damien walked away, Savannah never dated or even lusted after another man. Her heart was made for only one man. She didn't know what happened to him or where he ended up, but she still felt his absence in her heart.

Savannah stood and walked over to the tree. Running her hand over the bark until she came to the carving her and Damien made in the trunk the day after Senior Prom.

“SL loves DM” She whispered as she slowly traced her fingers over the carving, a small sad smile curving her lips. She remembered putting it there, using his pocket knife. She loved him with all of her heart, and that hadn't changed since he left.

“Hi, Vanna.” Savannah closed her eyes, convinced she imagined Damien stood near her. She had dreamed of his coming to her everyday since he left her. She jumped as she felt the weight of his hand on her shoulder. She turned around to see Damien standing behind her. Savannah stood at him in stunned silence, drinking in the sight of him. His hair was cropped close to his head and he was a little broader through the shoulders and chest, but he was still her Damien.

“Am I dreaming?” She asked.

“No, Vanna. I'm really standing here.” Damien replied, watching her closely.

Savannah suddenly couldn't breathe. Her chest was so tight from the emotions he stirred that she couldn't catch her breath. A roaring filled her ears and she had tunnel vision. I'm going to faint. She thought as the darkness enclosed her and she fell to the ground.

Monday, September 5, 2011

Miss Beckie Louise Week 67

Miss Beckie Louise

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Miss Beckie Louise's Choice: Picture 1


I need a walk. I thought to myself. So with that, I got my things together before leaving the house. The sun was out, just a few fluffy clouds in the sky remained. As I walked down the street, I began to think of where I was going and quickly decided on the park.

As I neared the park, I began to let my mind wonder. Soon enough, I got to the gates. My thoughts left me as I walked. It was really nice to just let things go.

Before long, I'd circled and was on my way home as I noticed a white dog laying on a nearby bench. It looked really funny and it made my thoughts seem really trivial.

When I got home, all I could think about is that cute little dog on the bench.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Destynee Week 67

Destynee Cullen

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Destiny Cullen’s Choice: Picture 1


“As you probably already know, we are in the midst of a full on zombie apocalypse.”

I lowered my book slowly glaring at Jack. He’s been my best friend for over four years. Four long years.

“Just you wait. You’re going to come running to me when our town becomes brain eating zombies. Oh wait, you have nothing to worry about you don’t have brains. They’ll just walk right past you.” I lifted the book high enough to block out Jack’s body, effectively shutting him out.

“Come on, Sean! You need to get your nose out of those books and get some sort of a life.” He grabs the book from my clutches and I lunge for it.

He quickly moves it out of reach and I shout, “Give it back,” like a six year old. Jack holds the book above his head, which is about five inches above my own, and mocks me with a smirk.
“Sean, you have to see what is here in front of you, not what ‘might’ happen.”

I narrowed my eyes at him trying to distract him so I could get my book back and read in peace. “What do you mean ‘right in front of me’? I like living in my fantasy world — there isn’t anything important out of it.”

Jack suddenly stiffened and his eyes lost all trace of humor. He lowered his arm to his side, but the look on his face made me forget about the book. I couldn’t place the emotion on his face. Hurt? Sadness? Betrayal? It seemed to be a mix of all three.

“Jack?” I asked cautiously.

He didn’t respond, he just kept staring into my eyes, trying to find a answer. But I had no idea what the question was.

“Jack, what’s wrong? Come on, talk to me.” I put my hand on his shoulder and he let out a breath, shaking his head.

“I knew you’d never figure it out.” His voice was weak as if he could hardly push the words out.

I frowned at him. “Figure what out? What are you talking about?”

He just shook his head and held the book a few inches from my chest. “Here is your wool, put it back over your eyes.”

I grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward me before he could turn and walk away. “What is this? What the hell are you talking about?!”

Jack sighed a sound of pure exhaustion. “Where do you want me to start, Sean? I’m tired, so tired of this. I’ve tried to make myself as clear as I can without forcing myself on you. For the past three years I’ve gone on like this. But I can’t do it any longer.” He tore his arm away from me and took off.

I couldn’t move, I couldn’t think. All I could do was watch him walk away and wonder why it felt like a part of me was ripped out.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Burntcore Week 67: Run


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Burntcore's Choice: both


***NSFW***Above 18 Only***

She chewed her fingers while they awkwardly sat in bed together. She never did stuff like this, and she wasn’t even sure what made her go through with it. He certainly was cute, but he was little more than a stranger.

“Um, where’s your bathroom?” he asked, interrupting her internal musing.

“Down the hall to the left, second door,” she replied automatically.

The mattress shifted as he rose and left the room, not bothering to pull on any clothes. Now that he was out of the room, she was able to breathe a little easier.

“What am I supposed to do now?” she asked herself. “Do I send him on his way? Do we hang out a bit longer?” She realized she had no idea what the proper behavior was for a one-night stand, well one-day stand. It wasn’t even dusk yet.

Marlee swung her feet around until they were resting on the cool wood floor. The abruptness of the temperature change made her start. It also made her realize even more what she just did. Her father would be so ashamed of her. Marlee wasn’t a virgin, but it was very unlike her to treat sex so casually, even more so with someone she didn’t know. She wouldn’t even kiss cute guys at the club like her friends would. Marlee wasn’t a prude, but that kind of thing just didn’t interest her.

So why now? Why was he different?

The man in question walked back in the room, just as naked as he left it in. Marlee blushed as she looked over his body again. He smirked and walked to over to her, nudging her knees so he could stand standing in between her legs.

“Want seconds?” he asked, his voice smooth while he ran his hands up and down her arms.

Marlee didn’t respond, but arched into his touch. He smiled, his eyes darkening and his cock hardening. His hands created an explosion of sensations in Marlee, different than before, now that the eurphoric rush of their first time was over. She leaned back as he rested his knee on the mattress between her legs, putting his prominent erection near her face. Feeling inspired, she bent her neck and slid his cock in her mouth.

“Shit, baby,” he moaned, thrusting his hands in her hair and guiding her head as his hips started pumping. “Just like that, suck it.”

Marlee tried to keep up with his pace but she was not very experienced in giving blow jobs. She tried to pull away as she began to gag, but his hands kept her head fully in place.

“Yeah, baby, just go with it. Suck that cock.” His voice became more hoarse while she became more panicked.

Marlee finally twisted her head away enough to take a breath. He looked at her with a confused frown on his face. Angrily, she pushed him away. “What the fuck, Tony? Didn’t you feel me starting to gag? I couldn’t breathe.”

Tony’s face fell and he knelt down before Marlee. “Sorry, babe.” Gently, he brushed a lock of hair out of her face. “I was into it so much, it felt so good, I didn’t realize.” He rubbed his hands up and down her thighs as he looked at her. “Forgiven?” he asked, flashing a wide smile at her.

She wanted to stay mad, but his touch was making her want other things too badly. Giving in, she nodded and pulled his face to hers, kissing him. He took the lead she gave him and pushed her down on the bed, covering his body with hers. Marlee enjoyed the weight of him on her, pulling him even closer against her. He snaked an arm in betweeen their bodies and pressed his hand against her clit, slipping a finger through her folds.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asked, rubbing her moist flesh and making her squirm.

“God, yes, just fuck me already!” Marlee exclaimed, startling herself over her words. The guy was bringing out a side of her that she wasn’t familiar with.

“Mmm, I think I want to play with you a bit more,” he murmured, pushing two fingers inside of her.

His hand began moving faster, making Marlee twitch and thrash on the bed. She felt her impending orgasm beginning to build as her sensitive flesh continued to be masterfully handled. Right as she was about to crest, he removed his fingers.

“What the?” she asked, half drunk on the sensations as she sat up on her elbows.

“Flip over. You wanted me to fuck you, so I’m going to fuck you.”

Marlee’s eyes widened and her muscles clenched in anticipation. Quickly, she flipped over onto her hands and knees, waving her butt towards him. She had never tried this position before and was eager to see if it felt as good as her friends had said.

She felt the bed shift as he knelt behind her, running his hands over her ass. Suddenly, he smacked her full on the cheek, startling her.

“What the fuck was that?” she screeched, glaring back at Tony, her skin smarting.

“Just getting you ready, babe. Don’t you like that?” he cooed.

“No, I don’t,” she huffed.

“Okay, I’ll give you something you will like then,” he replied, leaning back and thrusting into her suddenly, his balls smacking against her skin.

Marlee’s exclamation was swallowed up by the intense pace that Tony began the moment he was inside her. There was nothing gentle about this. He was fucking her, hard. She had never been taken quite this roughly before and she realized she liked it. She liked it a lot.

“Fuck that ass,” Tony grunted, other words lost in his efforts.

With every deep push by Tony, Marlee cried out feeling ever inch of him in her body. Her nerves were on fire as her body clenched in anticipation of the orgasm it sought so badly.

“Oh“ Marlee cried in between thrusts. “God. Ton. Eee”

He was grunting with the effort he was putting into fucking her, gripping her hips almost painfully tight. The room filled with their animistic noises, punctuated by their skin slapping together. Marlee’s cries became higher pitched as she came, her body seizing and her words intelligible.

Tony continued to pump into her, his pace becoming erratic, punctuated by a series of “Fuck”s. His final thrust was his deepest yet, and Marlee felt like she could feel him in the back of her throat he was so deep. He slumped against her body, spent and panting.

“That’s a good girl,” he said after he caught his breath. Tony pulled away, his flaccid cock slipping out easily.

Marlee collapsed against the bed, her body feeling completely boneless. She hoped he’d lay down with her and cuddle for a little while but wasn’t sure if that was normally done with these kinds of hook-ups. Her question was answered when Tony stumbled out of the bed and reached for his clothes. He didn’t say a word as he walked back to the bathroom, presumably to clean up. Marlee suppressed a sigh of disappointment and decided to get cleaned up and dressed as well. Her stomach growled as she gathered her clothes, reminding her it was about dinner time.

“Hey Tony,” she called out.

“Yeah?” came the muffled reply through her bathroom door.

“You hungry?”

The door opened and a fully-clothed Tony appeared. “I could eat,” he replied with a smirk.

“Great. I’m starved. Let me get dressed and we can go. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure,” he replied, sitting down at her desk to wait.

Ten minutes later, Marlee and Tony pulled out of the parking lot of her building. He offered to drive, with the understanding it would make it easier for him to leave later when he dropped her back at her apartment. She went along with it, not thinking anything of it. Since they weren’t going to be gone long, she grabbed only a handful of cash and her ID, not wanting to be encumbered by a purse or other effects, especially if that meant a third round in the car.

They were headed to a diner across town that Tony swore had the best food. She was a little uncomfortable about going to a side of town she wasn’t as familiar with, but trusted Tony. Marlee began to get anxious when most of the town was behind them. She couldn’t see any restaurants ahead.

“Tony, where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he said, his voice low, a tone to his voice he had not heard before, one that made her shiver.

“Tony, I don’t think I’m hungry anymore. Can you take me home?”

He shook his head. “We’re almost there, Marlee.”

Fear began to coil in her stomach as the last lights of the city went by, leaving nothing but a dark road ahead of them. She tried not to doubt him, but she barely knew him, and had nothing to base her trust on besides a day between the sheets. A few more miles passed without any lights or signs of any diner.

“Tony, this isn’t funny. Take me home.”

“Just be patient, babe.”

“I’ve been patient,” Marlee argued, her voice rising. “I don’t know where we are and I’m not hungry anymore, so please take me home.”

Tony didn’t reply. Marlee opened her mouth to say something again when the car started to slow down. When the car turned onto a dirt road, she thought perhaps he was going to turn around after all. Hope and relief blossomed in her heart until he continued down the winding road. Despair squashed any hope she had, as fear took root deep inside her. The road was bumpy, gravel pinging against the sides of the car as he drove.

“Tony, please you’re scaring me,” she whispered.


His voice was cold, completely unlike the person she knew before.

“Tony?” Marlee asked, her voice even quieter.

He didn’t answer right away, looking straight ahead as the car bounced along the road. Marlee wrapped her arms around herself as she looked out the window to try to get her bearings. She was going to run as soon as the car stopped. She had some cash on her if she was able to find a phone to call a cab or to pay for gas if she hitched a ride with someone.

The pleasure she felt earlier felt like it was from an alternate universe. Surely this was just a dream. Surely she wasn’t out in the middle of nowhere with someone she barely knew with no way of calling for help. Surely she wasn’t that stupid, that trusting.

“Where are you taking me?” she finally asked, hoping to get any information she could from the man who seemed to have kidnapped her, even if she was willing at first.

“To the diner.”

Exasperated, she burst out. “Tony, there is no diner out here! We are in the middle of nowhere!”

“Oh, but there is,” he insisted softly.

“What’s the name of it then?” she asked impatiently.

“It really doesn’t have a name ... “ he hedged. “It’s a private diner, invitation only.” His smirk could be seen even in the dark. The car began to slow, approaching a low, flat building. Dim lights could be seen from the back of the building. It did not look like any restaurant she had ever seen.

A chill went through Marlee.

“A private diner?”

“Yes, quite exclusive.”

“What do they serve?”

“Whatever the fresh catch of the day is,” he replied, his voice chilling but eager as he parked the car.

Tony slowly got out as Marlee did the same, her head swiveling from side to side taking in her surroundings. She took a few steps away from the car into the beams of the headlights that he left on. Marlee couldn’t hear a thing. No birds, no crickets, no nightlife.

“Tony?” Marlee asked.

When she didn’t get a response, she turned around and found that she was alone.

“Tony?” she asked again, her voice nothing but a whisper.

She walked a few more steps, not getting any closer to the building, staying an equal distance between the car and the small but imposing structure.

“Would you like to know what the catch of the day is, Marleee...” Tony’s voice swirled around her.

Marlee turned around, trying to find the source of his voice. It was as if it came out of thin air.

“Tony, where are you?” she called, turning around again. It felt like she was going on circles.

You’re the catch of the day, Marlee...”

Tony’s voice sounded like it was right behind her. She spun around, not expecting anyone to be there, ust as before.

This time it was different. He stood a few feet behind her, tall and imposing, his eyes glinting from the headlights.


“Run, Marlee,” he whispered, his voice full of menace. “Run, while you can.”

He reached towards her as he took a step forward. Marlee’s blood ran cold as she realized the danger she was in.

“I’m hungry, Marlee,” he sneered, taking another step. “And you are making me so hungry.”

Marlee backed up, afraid of turning her back on the man she thought she knew.

“You’ll like it, babe,” he purred, his voice sounding more like the man she knew back in her apartment. “I want to play with you some more.” As he finished, his words turned more sinister and he took another step towards her.

Marlee knew it was a different kind of game he wanted to play now. Her fear finally motivated her to act. She turned from Tony and ran as fast as she could. She had just cleared the driveway of the building when she heard his voice again.

“Run, Marlee...” Tony called, once again seeming to surround her.

Redoubling her efforts, she ran down the road in the direction she thought they came from. As she ran, she saw snippets of things from the corner of her eyes, things that looked like they were following her. She dared not turn her head to see what it was and distract herself.

Marlee’s lungs were burning and she desperately needed a break, but she didn’t dare slow down yet. She would run until she found the city and civilization again.

Marlee ran until several pairs of hands roughly grabbed her from behind and dragged her to the ground. Her scream was cut short as two more pairs wrapped around her neck and squeezed.

“Just like that,” Tony whispered, a smirk on his face while the others crowded around.

The diner was open.