Wednesday, February 29, 2012

KekahJ Week 93: Wheels


And now with our 2nd day of KekahJ!

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KekahJ's Choice: Picture 2


There’s nothing like it. I don’t care what anyone else says. There’s absolutely nothing like the feel of the wind through your hair and rushing across your cheek as you careen down the street, a thin piece of wood and four wheels the only thing between you and the pavement. And the feeling when you catch air and land a trick perfectly? Best feeling in the world.

Pain? Pain is nothing to a skater. We fall off our boards so many times you get so it doesn’t even register anymore. We’re always covered in bumps and bruises. It’s almost like a badge of honor in a way. Scars especially.

Also, I don’t know if anyone will ever admit this, but there’s a small part of every skater who likes being misunderstood. We like that people give us sideways glances when they see us on the street. There’s a certain rush that comes from knowing that we could be busted at any moment and thrown out. People always yell that they’re going to call the cops, but they rarely do.

Being a skater is like being a member of a whole other world, if only for just a few hours each day. When we’re on our boards, whether we’re riding down the sidewalk, or trying to master adrenaline pumping new tricks, we feel like the world makes sense. You know what I mean?

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

KekahJ Week 93: Daydreams

... KekahJ is usually on Wednesday but we needed a fill in for today's prompt, so now we will have TWO days of KekahJ! :)

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KekahJ's Choice: Picture 1



Sometimes I get lost. In a spare quiet moment when the dryer is humming quietly and the dishes are done, I sit back and close my eyes and let myself get lost. I think about what it would be like to spend my days sitting quietly on the bank of some far away river with nothing more to do than watch the sun arc across the sky and listen to the rush of the water moving over the smooth rocks. I can almost see it. The sun streams through the clouds and reflects almost blindingly off the water and the cool breeze rustles the leaves of the nearby trees. Sometimes in my daydream I have a small boat, or even just a fishing pole that dangles lazily from my arm. I don’t care if I get a bite or not. It’s just there to add to the whole experience.

Then the dryer buzzes or the baby cries, awake from her afternoon nap, and I’m brought back to reality. Dreams of lazy rivers and sun dappled trees are replaced by the reality of carpools and menu planning and soccer practices. I smile wistfully to myself. I’d get bored lying by a river all day anyway.

Monday, February 27, 2012

Jessypt Week 93: Dandelion


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Jessypt's Choice: Picture 1


She laughs, so free, so light.

She twirls, her dress swirling and floating as the day becomes night.

I watch her come alive, a rare gift to dance, to just be.

I know she doesn’t have long, that this sickness will rob her of the life should lead.

But when she flops down beside me, her smile radiant and her eyes bright, I know I’ve been given a gift.

I know and am reminded just how precious, how fragile life is.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper as my fingers touch her pink cheeks.

She smiles and leans in, her lips against mine.

I take and take, lost in the way her breath fans against my face when we pull apart.
We talk and touch for hours, laughing, sharing, and teasing until it’s time for us to go.

The wind blows, lifting and swirling her hair all around her face. All around us, hovering in the air, are cottony white dandelion puffs, and I know that even after she’s gone I’ll still have this day, this memory. I’ll still have us, and that’s something cancer can never take away.

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Kimmydonn Week 92: Love in a Box


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Kimmydonn's Choice: Both

Love in a Box

Jenna lay on her stomach beside me, kicking her legs up behind her. “You know you want to,” she taunted. “It’s just a link, what harm could it do?” She nudged my shoulder making me tap keys on my keyboard.

“Ugh, stop,” I whined, hitting the back button on the browser. “I’m just not into porn, okay?”

“Seriously, Myra, you are such a prude.” Jenna rolled over her blond hair spilling around her face in golden waves. “How are you ever going to know what you like if you don’t research? You do it all the time for school.”

I looked over at her. She was beautiful, with long slender legs, a narrow waist and perky breasts that were smaller than mine. I thought mine were too big. I hated the attention they drew and tended to wear large shirts so they’d be less obvious. The stripes on this one made me seem wide, putting less emphasis on the flesh I bore on my chest.

How would I know what I liked? I thought I liked Jenna. I mean, I’d had crushes on boys, but something about the soft beauty of a woman drew me in a way only the prettiest of boys could. I looked away from her, my face feeling warm, and hit a new search term. “Lesbian.” The videos loaded and I scanned over them. The women intrigued me, but most of the positions didn’t. I closed my laptop and rolled onto my back as well. I just wasn’t in the mood for this today.

“Nothing?” Jenna asked. “Absolutely nothing? What have you tried?” She started to roll over me and I caught her by the waist.

“Leave it be. I just don’t want to look at porn, okay. It creeps me out.”

“You just haven’t found the right stuff. There’s amateur couples out there that keep it simple. Try those.” She reached for the laptop. I pulled her away.

“Leave it,” I said again. “I’ll try again tonight. Your house, right?” I verified. We’d planned to spend the entire weekend together, migrating from my house to hers.

“Yeah, okay.”

The day seemed to pass far too quickly, and before I knew it, she was opening my laptop on her polka dotted comforter.
“Oh!” she said in surprise when my search results loaded again. “Oh...” She turned to me. “Did you have someone in mind?” She quirked her eyebrow.

“N-n-no.” I stuttered, utterly embarrassed.

“Well, we can find some tamer ones of these, too.” She entered a few more terms and the results were much more tempting to me. The female bodies twined one another in gentle, tender caresses and holds. My finger shook slightly as I moved it over the mouse pad to select one. The slender blonde might have been Jenna, except her eyes were blue while Jenna’s were brown. The video started streaming. The sound was quiet, moans and whispers, no screams or grunts. The women kissed and brushed, licked and touched. It was perfect. It made me tingle all over.

I just about jumped out of my skin when Jenna’s fingers ran up the back of my bare thigh.


“Good choice,” Jenna said with a smile. “They look great, don’t they?” Her fingers ran over my backside, stopping at the waistband of my shorts.

“But … you … I’m not...”

“You’re not what? As cute as her?” Jenna nodded to the screen. “I think you’re better.”

“I’m not a guy.”

She laughed. “I had noticed.” Her fingers trailed over the outside curve of my breast.

“But you like guys.” I didn’t understand.

“So I can’t like girls?”

My breath stopped as her lips came to mine. We rolled away from the laptop, tangling together.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Alby Mangroves Week 92: Sunrise

Alby Mangroves

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Alby Mangroves's Choice: Picture 1


There are times when Emmett thinks he might as well be looking out his own momma’s kitchen window. Them mountains sure do look misty, but they ain’t the Smokies, no sir.

He could go back home anytime, but it wouldn’t be the same. It ain’t the place that’s changed; it’s him. His eyes wouldn’t see it the same no more, and he doesn’t want to happen among kin if the thirst proves stronger than he is.

Emmett doesn’t dwell on past mistakes, but he’s a realist, too.

The thirst always wins.

Breaking into a run, he fools it with speed.

Friday, February 24, 2012

Muse Calliope Week 92: First Dance, First Kiss - Trinity Shade Part VIII

Muse Calliope

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Muse Calliope's Choice: Picture 1

AFirst Dance, First Kiss - Trinity Shade Part VIII

The masquerade, as it turns out, had a nature theme. Literally. Everyone's costume was intended to represent trees, flowers, or animals. A carpet of fluffy moss covered the front steps of the sprawling mansion and led up into the house where it gave way to thick, soft grass. Vines, branches, and blossoms crept up from the floor to cover walls and ceiling alike. It was downright creepy, but also kind of cool.

With every other guest in animal print or floral patterns, Trinity felt out of place dressed all in white.

Croix, apparently picking up on her distress, handed her her mask with a reassuring smile. "Don't fret, ma petite. You are beautiful and, avec ton masque, you are snow and ice. What can be more naturelle? Especially ici, at a ball of the Winter Court."

Still uncertain, Trinity slipped her mask over her face. Croix grinned and offered her his arm and together they made their way inside the Winter Regent's home.

The ballroom, obviously, was serving as the focal point of the masquerade. In a truly brilliant decor move, the ballroom had been made to look like a forest complete with gnarled and twisting tree trunks and miles of gauzy green fabric serving in place of actual foliage. There was even a fountain of champagne made to look like a bubbling brook and a swarm of brightly coloured butterflies fluttered idly about. It was surreal.

Aoife, pseudo-Queen, was on a dais at the far end of the room seated on a throne. She was flanked by her son, Fiachra, on her left and her lover, Gideon, on her right, both seated on simpler, smaller thrones of their own. Shockingly - unless you knew of her obsession - Aoife's costume was snake-based, complete with an actual albino python slung around her shoulders.

"Everyone here, ma chère, everyone is loyal to la dame des serpents, not ma reine, so be en garde. Trust no one."

"Where is this mask we're supposed to steal?" Trinity asked, her voice as quiet as possible.

Croix lead her onto the dance floor and pulled her close. When he bent his head to whisper in her ear, his deep voice sent unwelcome shivers down her spin. She didn't have either the time or the inclination for a fling, even briefly. She was there to steal a mask, fulfill a debt, and get the hell out of dodge before anything else went wrong.

Now if only her body would agree.

"C'est un des papillons."

Trinity glared. "Have I mentioned that I actually avoid France like the plague? There was a mishap during the Revolution and, well, let's just say I'm not a fan. Could you keep to English, please and thank you?"

Croix chuckled. "Comme tu veux. I said it is one of the butterflies."

Trinity froze so Croix lifted her up and settled her feet on top of his shoes for easier dancing. Or, rather, easier swaying in time to the music. "It is a - comment dites-vous? - defense mechanism. The mask, it has more than one form and Savannah, parce qu'elle est la reine, and because the mask is hers, she can … activate it at great distance."

"So why didn't she change it into something useful? Like a bird or something that could come to her."

"Le masque is not alive. It flutters about looking like a butterfly but sa tête est vide - its head is empty. It can't get itself to her anymore than a Furby could. C'est pourquoi nous sommes ici."

"Is there a plan?"

"Of course. Notre reine would never let us come here without a plan. Or five. Nous trouvons le papillon and we get out of here."

"Simple enough."

"Faites attention, ma petite," Croix warned. "Just because the plan is short to say does not mean it will be easy to do."

"Spoilsport. So how do we know which butterfly is the one we want?"

Suddenly, Croix spun Trinity around and around before dipping her deeply and kissing her - SMACK! - on her lips. "We find the butterfly that is not a butterfly. Mais, en premier je vais te donner un autre baiser, d'accord?"

And then he kissed her again. Right there on the dance floor for all the Fae to see.

Had her brain not short circuited at the first touch of his lips, Trinity would have pushed him away, slapped him, something, anything, to break free of him. She knew she would have. Was certain of that. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on your perspective, Trinity's brain had apparently shut down and when, after a few seconds, it came back online. However, its brief shutdown had apparently confused what was going on and instead of trying to break free, Trinity moaned deep in her throat and returned the kiss. With interest.

She had no idea how long the kiss lasted - minutes? hours? years? - but when they finally flew apart, spinning away from each other as if repelled, her mouth felt bruised, her tongue felt tangled and her head felt dizzy.

Before Croix could speak, Trinity spun on her heel and darted away. She needed a moment - or ten - to herself. Just to think. Get her thoughts in order. Most importantly, try to remember why she couldn't afford a fling right now.

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

A/N: To be continued soon!

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Burntcore Week 92: Freedom


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Burntcore's Choice: Both


The smoke curled and twisted, udulating like a living organism while it faded into nothing as it left his body.

He felt so light, lighter than he had ever felt before. The smoke carried him away from the drudgery his existence had become. For so long, life had pulled him down time and time again, until he felt crippled by the weight of everything arund him.

Traces of the smoke remained, lingering, a mark forever left in his body, transporting him from beyond the confines of the world.


Floating. That was the first sensation he could recall. The water was crisp and cool, lapping at his sides gently. He had no idea where he was or how he got there, but he was enjoying his time.

He felt so light, lighter than he had ever felt.

He wished he could stay, immersed in the simple sensation. It was so unlike reality. It was pure and easy.

Time passed, of how long he didn’t know. It could’ve been days or weeks or just merely hours. There was no frame of reference.

It wasn’t until he felt the smoke in his lungs again did he realize he was returning to reality. He clung to his floating freedom, but it wasn’t enough.

Slowly, his eyes opened and the life he so gladly left stared right back at him. With a sigh, he gathered up his things and prepared for another day, until he was able to return and find that floating sensation again.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

KekahJ week 92: Surprise


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KekahJ's Choice: Both


“So, are you sure?” he asked.

“Yep,” she said staring at the ceiling.

“How many--”

“Three,” she replied, cutting his question off almost before it began.

He sighed and then there was silence for a moment. Neither of them knew what to say. He absentmindedly kicked the bed’s foot board while she fidgeted with the sheets.

“Wow,” he said.

“Yeah, wow...” she echoed.

He propped himself up on one elbow so he could look at her face. “Are you...happy?” he asked.

She thought for a moment, and while she thought, he studied her face. Finally, a slow smile parted her lips. “I think so. It’s kind of early to tell, and I might be in shock, but yes. I think I’m happy.”

He watched her for a moment longer before nodding. “Good.” He tucked his shoulder and rolled onto his back again, this time taking her arm with him so that his head was resting in the crook of her arm. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.” He took the threads of one of the woven bracelets she wore between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it up and down.

She looked at him, surprised. “Really? I mean, we never really talked about this before. I didn’t think you’d be happy.”

He shook his head as they both shifted onto their sides facing each other. “No, I’m happy. I mean, I figured this would happen eventually, just But it’s okay. I’m happy.”

She grinned and leaned closer, kissing his nose. “I love you.”

He smiled and kissed her back. “I love you too.” He paused for a moment, then placed one hand on her flat stomach. “And I love you, too.”

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

107_yroldvirgin Week 92: Inevitable Yes


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107_yroldvirgin’'s Choice: Picture 2

Inevitable Yes

He’s holding his case in both hands, pushing it into the back of the van. The same ratty van they’ve been in for years. Playing the same twenty songs, just in a different set list.

His hair is shorter now, but it will only be that way for a few weeks. He is half Yetty, as far as I am concerned.

“Come.” His eyes are smiling, and so are his lips, but it’s his heart and intentions that I need to focus on. Not these pretty things that adorn his face.

I play with the ends of my hair, fire-red and curled today because I knew I would see him. My fingers reach for the cross that lays somewhere between my breasts, against soft cotton. The feel of the metal against my fingertips centers me. Grounds me from making rash decisions.

I’ve seen this show a million times. And it always ends with him leaving.

He always leaves.

“I’m busy,” I answer instead. It’s an outright lie. And he knows it.

Shifting his things to a less precarious position, he turns and leans against the back of the van, his eyes roaming my face for the truth. “No, you’re not.”

My feet shift and I drop the necklace charm to go back to fiddling with my hair. “But I really am. I have a thing at a friend’s house.”

His lips pulse as he tries not to smile, his fingers dipping into denim pockets as he loses his fight. “A thing at a friend’s? You can do better than that.”

And I could, but I think we both know that I suck at playing coy. I’m sure we both know that, in the end, I will go. I will stand in the crown or huddle in a corner and watch as he does what he loves the most, while holding me just off to the side. He will show off his passion on a stage while I wait patiently, taking what he gives in the form of his music. And later in the night, as he drinks more and his words become loose, whispered in my ear... I know that I’ll end up with him through the dark night and into early morning.

But sunrise will bring his goodbyes. Soft kisses and promises of ‘soon’.

And, maybe, just this time, I want to pretend that he doesn’t sway me so easily.

Because we both know he does.

Monday, February 20, 2012

Jessypt Week 92: The Magic Kingdom


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Jessypt's Choice: Picture 1

The Magic Kingdom

I stared, open-mouthed, at the enormity of everything in front of me. All my life I’d dreamed of coming here, and finally after a lifetime of obligation and little money I was.

A little hand squeezed mine, and I looked down to see my granddaughter staring up me, her eyes equally wide with wonder.

“Think we can do all this?” I asked, raising our joined hands and nodding toward the brightly lit rides.

She looked away, her brow furrowed in thought, and then back at me with determination. “Yes.”

And so for two days, she and I walked, ate, stood in lines, and rode, rode, rode every ride we could. Some she was too small for, but I didn’t mind skipping those. They were usually too jerky for my taste anyway.

My daughter and her husband were always nearby, but they knew this was my dream. And Libby’s. My granddaughter and I had talked about this for a long time. At six, she was full of energy, something I had but in short supply, and her laughter was infectious and invigorating.

After three long days, we sat underneath the stars, the night sky twinkling above us. The lights throughout the park had been dimmed save for a few of the rides as we waited for the fireworks to begin.

“It’s almost time, Papa,” Libby said, a tired smile on her face.

She’d been a trooper, pushing her little body all day and late into the evening, refusing to miss a thing. I pulled her onto my lap and smiled down at her. “It is.”

As if on command, the night sky opened up in a brilliant shower of color and trailing lights. I held my granddaughter, my arms tightly wrapped around her, as we watched in awe, the magic of the kingdom on full display. I looked down at her upturned face and a wave of contentment washed over me, so rich and full it almost took my breath away.

This - spending time with the people most important to me - was the stuff dreams were made of... and mine had finally come true.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Kimmydonn Week 91: Somewhere Out There


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Kimmydonn's Choice: Both

Somewhere Out There

I’d always known I was adopted. My mother was my age, sixteen, and couldn’t keep me. I didn’t blame her. What I couldn’t believe was that no one had told me about her. Not my birth mother—she was a high school kid who made a mistake. My sister, my twin. No one told me I had someone out there who may or may not look just like me. Did she know about me? Did she look down at the people streaking away down the dark asphalt and wonder if I was among them? I wondered if she was. Constantly. I sat out on the roof of the building every day after school and wondered if she was on her way home.

I guess I’ll never know.

I had a sister? Why did Mom and Dad wait until now to tell me? Did they think I couldn’t handle it? They said it just hadn’t come up. Well, why would I ask about a sister I never knew I had? A twin? They didn’t know if she was identical but thought she wasn’t. They’d considered adopting both of us, but in the end, someone else had taken my sister. She might have come with me to school, sat here on the bridge and watched the tiny fish streaking away down the dark river beneath our feet. What would that be like?

I guess I’ll never know.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Alby Mangroves Week 91: Underneath

Alby Mangroves

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Alby Mangroves's Choice: Picture 2


Winter chill creeps like icy fingers through floorboards in Bella’s room.

She doesn’t mind the cold; it’s familiar.

Charlie’s valiant attempt at putting on a modest Christmas is wasted on her, but Bella goes along with the tree and the food, even checking the rope of blinking Christmas lights.

Somewhere, a faulty little bulb stops all the others from glowing.

Bella knows how it feels.

Sometimes you’ve got no glow left in you.

Below her knees, September’s echo lies undiscovered, sandwiched in a narrow wooden tomb under the floorboards.

Love lies hidden, trapped in purgatory just like the ghost himself.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Bronwyn Week 91: View From A Ski Gondola

Bronwyn Keith

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Bronwyn’s Choice: Picture 2

View From A Ski Gondola

“Whoa. Did you see that?” Daniel asked.

“I can’t believe he tried to jump off that rock.” Kara said as she looked out of the ski gondola over the green ski slope. People rode mountain bikes or BMX biking down the slope. Some were there just for the extreme downhill; others for the obstacles. In the forest, she could see hikers and animals moving around.

“Did you get pictures?” Daniel leaned closer to the window watching the cyclists.


“Why not?” Daniel looked at Kara with surprise.

“Because someone forgot the digital camera at the hotel this morning, so all I have is this disposable camera.” Kara waved the camera in front of Daniel’s face. “And instead of getting two, like I asked, you only got one. So, we need to save shots for the stuff at the top of the mountain.”

“But I want pictures of the cyclists.” Daniel sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting.

“You should have thought of that when you refused to go back to the hotel to get the camera.” Kara turned back to the window to continue watching the people below.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

KekahJ Week 91: We Were Young


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KekahJ's Choice: Picture 1

We Were Young

It was still summer, but only just barely. The time of year where fall is just around the corner, waiting, and you can smell it in the air and feel it in the bite of early mornings. The time of year when the aroma of fresh baked bread from the corner bakery seems to somehow travel a little further and make your stomach growl a little louder. We’d always stop in on our way home in those predawn hours. Looking back, I don’t think they were even open, but the baker would always welcome us in and sell us fresh rolls that burned our fingers and mouths.

We were young and carefree almost to the point of recklessness. We smoked and drank with abandon, knowing our time was borrowed anyway. We didn’t belong in the city, but we lived like we did, spending our nights under the pulsing neon lights and the heavy beat of a thousand nameless, smoke-filled clubs. We spent our days behind sunglasses sitting broodingly at the tables of street cafes sucking down gallons of coffee as we tried to smoke our hangovers away. We thought we owned the world, the group of us, and for that summer at least, we did.

I remember that day like it was yesterday. You showed up at my door way too early and entirely too cheerful for that hour. You were alone, and I glared at you, but you wouldn’t be dissuaded. I was going to come with you, and that was that. Everyone else was sleeping, and I wanted to be too, but finally, I gave in, grabbing my jacket on the way out as you pulled me out the door and down the stairs.

My jaw fell open when I saw it. I rolled my eyes and tried to cause a scene, but you just laughed. A bicycle. You were serious, and you wanted me to ride it with you. You climbed on and rode around me in little circles as I huffed and stomped my feet. Laughing, you stopped, balancing the bike on your hip as you grabbed me around the waist and pulled me onto the bike. Breathless and slightly dizzy at this new proximity, I giggled and relented, climbing on behind you.

It had rained earlier, probably when it was still dark, and the streets were still dark and slick. A little afraid, I found myself clinging to your waist as the chill wind caught my hair and threw it back. It seemed like we rode forever, winding in and out of morning traffic and finally turning down a small, deserted alleyway. You slowed and I hopped off, shoving my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket.

It was awkward for a moment. We’d never been alone, away from the group before. You glanced at me, almost shy in the way you raised one eyebrow at me. But then, before I knew it, you were there, next to me, pressing against me, your breath warm against my neck. You whispered in my ear and I melted.

It was over before it started, it seemed. Both of us smoothing our clothes and glancing around awkwardly before we climbed back on the bike and rode back. There was one last tender kiss before I waved goodbye and climbed the stairs back to my apartment. Once inside, I crept quietly to the window and smiled when I saw you still standing on the street, bike braced against your thighs as you gazed up at my window. I waved and you grinned and waved back before riding away. I crept back to bed with a smile on my face.

That was the last time I saw you. I learned later that day that you’d flown home that morning. I never told anyone else about our ride together. Everyone had slept while we were gone, and no one had even noticed my absence. Our morning together would always remain our secret. And no matter what happened after that day, I could never bring myself to feel sad, or regret it. After all, we were young.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Kimmydonn Week 90: What Did I Think Would Happen?

Because I'm full of fail, I forgot to post this on Sunday. So Kimmydonn's post is going up today! Woo!


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Kimmydonn's Choice: Picture 2

What Did I Think Would Happen?

The stone was hard beneath my bare back. He was hard above me. I tried to ignore the chanting, but it was difficult. I couldn’t understand a word of it. They just wanted a virgin, and I wanted to lose my V card. My cousin assured me that he’d be gentle. So far, she was right—and wrong.

I couldn’t complain, not at all. Well, maybe about all the witnesses and the weird incense that made my head swim. This guy, though, nuh-uh. He was gorgeous. There is no way I would have scored even a date with him, let alone sex. But here I was, naked, while his arms braced on either side of my shoulders, his broad chest heaved and his chin glistened. That was me. I’d been touched before, but never oral. Unreal. I was still shaking from coming so hard. Thinking about it sent another spasm down my spine, straight into my groin. And now he was going to enter me.

He bent his arms, lowering his nose to mine. His dark eyes were glowing with candlelight—so intense. “Are you ready?” he asked in a whisper.

“Yes,” I croaked out. I’d been told not to say anything, not to disrupt the chanting for anything less than intense pain. Mostly, I’d just moaned and screamed incoherently. The circle didn’t mind that. The word must have reached them though. I still had no idea what they were chanting, but it had changed pitch and vigor, higher and faster.

The man—come to think of it, no one told me his name. I was really going to lose my virginity to a complete stranger. Well, I had friends who were too high or to remember the name of the guy they slept with.

He bent even lower, his hips coming between mine. Instinctively, I lifted my feet, wrapping them around his calves. He seemed to prod me, not really thrusting. My brow furrowed. What was he doing? Then he thrust, hard and deep. I cried at the pain, my legs tightening on his. He didn’t move, holding himself inside. It still hurt, burning, and I whimpered.

“Shhh,” he murmured, lowering himself further. “It will pass.”

My legs relaxed and fell open, but I still hurt inside.

“I need a little more,” he warned and slid very slowly, out and in. He was careful to move slowly, not causing a lot more pain. It still didn’t feel fantastic.

He started to throb. That felt nice. I wrapped my feet around him again and he slid deeper, that throb feeling even better.

“Yes,” he hissed. “Yes.” The chanting hit a fever pitch and he threw his head back, blond hair falling away from his face. Damn, he looked good. Then I closed my eyes and squeezed him inside me. For a second, it didn’t hurt.

It was suddenly very quiet. I’d gotten so used to the chanting that it was weird not to hear it. Someone held a robe out to my partner, and he pulled it on. My cousin held one over me while I sat up.

“That’s it?” I asked.

“That’s it,” she said with a smile. She kissed me on the cheek. “You did great. Did it hurt a lot?” she asked, brow creasing in concern.

The burn was still there, but a dull ache. “I’ll be okay,” I assured her. Looking over my shoulder, my partner had left the darkened room. “Will I ever see him again?”

Jenny shrugged. “Hard to say. Think you’ll join our coven?”

I scrunched my nose. “No. You guys are too weird for me.”

Jenny smiled, unoffended. “Well, it would be a good way to make sure you see Jonah again.”

Jonah. At least I had a name.

My stomach turned, again. I must be coming down with something, I thought. I was going to be sick and ran for the bathroom. Bending over the toilet, I retched, but nothing came. Finally I sat back, coughing. Choking together one good breath, I opened my mouth to cough, but instead of air...

“Oh my god.”

Author’s note: Do you know what that is coming out of her mouth? I don’t.

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Alby Mangroves Week 90: Can’t Fight The Tide

Alby Mangroves

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Picture 2

Alby Mangroves's Choice: Picture 2


Can’t Fight The Tide

Sam says he can’t change it, and I believe him.

I know it deep in my bones.

The moment he looked at me, the moment we met, I knew.

Doesn’t make it any easier.

For him, it’s simple: nothing is stronger than this bond, so he does what he must. He follows the moon like a tide, and I’m the moon, he says.

I think of Leah every single day, and wonder if she’ll ever forgive us, the moon and the tide sweeping her aside.

For me, the price of guilt is as clear as the scars on my face.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Burntcore Week 90: Fates of Roles


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Picture 2

Burntcore's Choice: Picture 2


Fates of Roles

Alana sat in her window sill and let the sunlight warm her as she dug through her confusing thoughts. So many things had happened that made her question everything, and with each answer brought more questions.

Her parents didn’t just die in an unfortunate car accident, they were murdered. The accident was only made to look like one, it was purposely set up to kill her parents and herself as a baby. However, something went wrong at last minute and Alana was spared. No one knew that Alana survived except her grandparents and the Wards. To the rest of the town and the world, Evelyn and Robert Quinlan buried their entire family a short time later. It was considered one of the great tragedies of the town.

How the Ward family was mixed in this was even more mind-boggling. David seemed to be a bit ignorant of everything, but it was obvious his parents knew what Alana was and their relation to all this was. Alana wondered when they were planning on telling him about his ancestry and his role in the world, more specifically, his role in Alana’s life.

It all felt a little predetermined, that Alana’s and David’s free will had been taken away because of what they had been born into and what was expected of them. But when she thought about it, it was still ultimately their choice on how they lived and fulfilled their destinies. Sure, there were certain things still there, but how Alana chose to enact her role was her decision and her decision only.

Now she just had to decide what she was going to do, and to find out what David’s decision was once he was informed. His decision would affect her life as well.