Jessypt Week 82: Watching

Jessypt
Saturday


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Jessypt's Choice: Both

Title:
Watching

The horses shifted uneasily. As the wind rustled the nearby leaves, the hunting party watched from the bluff as the two lovers embraced. The woman smiled and threw her head back, her mouth open and full of laughter. The man let her go and grabbed her hand, dragging her into the tall grass.

The warrior looked to the side, an eager sneer marring his flat features, and nodded his head just slightly. The young braves wordlessly climbed onto their horses and waited for the signal. With a dig of his heels, the warrior led the charge. The horses’ hooves thundered down the bluff, dust and rocks flying behind them.

The young couple scrambled to their feet at the sound of the shrill, high pitched yells, their fingers desperately fumbling to right their clothes. There was no time to flee, no response to their desperate pleas as the party surrounded them.

The air around them crackled in anticipation, the young couple’s fear thick and palpable. The warrior approached, his lean, muscled body confident and sure as he sat upon his horse. The young man shifted his girl behind him, and stared into the eyes of the young warrior before glancing at the faces of the others.

With a swing of his leg, the warrior jumped off his mount and approached. With each approaching step, he drew closer to the young couple, circling in a carefully choreographed dance of aggression.

The young girl sobbed quietly into the young man’s neck, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Every muscle in the young man’s body was taut, his chest tight with anxiety and the desire to protect his beautiful young wife.

With the flick of the warrior’s wrist it was all over. The party descended, taking and leaving nothing but devastation and loss in their wake.

Kimmydonn Week 81: I Would Keep You Forever.

Kimmydonn
Sunday



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Picture 2

Kimmydonn's Choice: Photo 2

Title:

I Would Keep You Forever

AN: this story is an aside from my novella Blue Moon House, which can be found at MyVampFiction.com. http://myvampfiction.com/dungeon/viewuser.php?uid=2069

Terrance quickly released the ties holding Marina up and she sagged into his grasp. It had been a long session, and he was sure she would use her safeword, but somehow, this small, life-gone-in-a-blink human had outlasted the two hundred year-old vampire. There had been many times he’d had to pull away to resist the urge to come inside her. His physiology would have allowed him to continue to pleasure her, but Marina was so responsive to his pleasure, that she would be finished if she felt the tell-tale throb that preceded his eruption inside her.

She had given so much tonight that she was slick with sweat, and he slowly rubbed out kinks, tension in her shoulders and back, the twinge she tended to get in her sacrum. His hands were familiar with every inch of her body, and every one responded to his touch in kind.

God, he wanted to keep her. It hadn’t been long since Julia had joined them at Blue Moon House, little enough time that his compatriots would balk at the suggestion of adding another so soon. Marina couldn’t join them anyway. She had a mentally challenged sister who demanded her care and attention when not in the hospital as she was this weekend. Her mother was in poor health as well, and had been the cause of further lapses in their time together. He couldn’t ask her to choose between him and them. It wasn’t fair. Not when they could have this and cost her nothing.

She rose from the bed, stretching onto her toes and thanking him for his massage. As soon as her arms dropped, Terrance rushed her, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. She wasn’t his pet now, that had ended when she rose from the bed, but he wanted her to know how badly he wanted to keep her, forever.

Her head tipped back, welcoming his kiss, and he poured every once of the passion her felt for this frail human, this one who would give so much to others, consistently.

“I’m not dying,” she said, teasing.

He sighed heavily. “Yes you are.” She would grow old and die, something that would never happen to him. He didn’t regret his decision to join this life, but he did regret not being able to give the same to Marina. “But not tonight,” he added with a smile, kissing her once more before dipping down and nipping her neck just enough for a trickle of her blood to coat his tongue. She shuddered as his venom’s aphrodisiac effect took her. The wound was small and closed quickly, but he reveled in her taste, in the burst of life she gave him. Normally he would only bite her under the rules of their play, but this moment, so intimate, so dear, begged him to share with her on this most vital level as well.

She certainly didn’t seem to mind, tipping her head aside to invite more. Terrance merely licked up the column of her neck to the shell of her ear. “Not now,” he murmured.

“Okay,” she said quietly and continued toward the bathroom and the shower she sought. “Join me?” she asked, looking over her shoulder.

Terrance was in the room ahead of her, using the advantage of his speed to start the water and pull her in beside him.

Alby Mangroves Week 81: Momentary

Alby Mangroves
Saturday



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Picture 2



Alby Mangroves's Choice: Picture 1

Title:
Momentary

Under the water, my heartbeat is a warm, wet thud that reverberates throughout my whole body.

Every small movement of my limbs sounds like a roaring hum.

My nose is above the surface, and each breath I draw sounds thunderous in my own ears.

Blood rushes through my veins like a storm, but on the outside, all is serene and still.

Hair floats around me like dark seaweed, and I feel like Ophelia, minus the suicidal tendencies.

Out there, people in my life all need something from me.

But not here.

Down here, for just this moment, I am free.

Whoops!

No prompt for today! The prompters were so busy Christmas shopping that they completely passed out! Look for Alby's prompt tomorrow. :)

Burntcore Week 81: A Life in Pictures

Burntcore
Thursday


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Picture 2


Burntcore's Choice: Both


Title:
A Life In Pictures

It was days like this that she wished he was with her. They loved to watch the sunset together over the water. It had become one of their things, every day they would walk out to the beach onto the pier by their house and watch the sun go down. Even now, standing there alone, she could feel his presence. To a certain extent, she always felt him with her, but never more so than at twilight.

After he was gone, she threw herself into her photography again; something that was once just a hobby was now a purpose. She wanted to take pictures of everything in her life, so maybe he would see it. She wasn’t sure how, but was determined if the opportunity came about, she’d be ready and he’d see all that he had missed.

As the years passed, her living room bookshelf became full of photo albums, full of pictures she took and had printed of her life, of things she had seen, done, and experienced. Things that had meaning, things that she didn’t want to forget. Many of them included sunsets. She started to doubt her purpose, taking all the photographs, but she carried on. For him.

One day, she received news she never expected to hear. She didn’t think it was possible. She had always hoped but never dreamed it would happen.

He was coming home. Finally, after so long, he was coming home.

She never thought his deployment would last so long, but apparently he had an inkling. Before he left, he told her he didn’t know when he was coming home and not to wait for him. His assignment did not have a time frame. It would be done when it was done. She knew what he was trying to give her, but she knew she would always wait for him.

Never did she think it would have been this long, but it would be worth it in the end.

She stood at the airport with a large group of people, family members of the soldiers and servicepeople that were finally coming home. She didn’t know any of them, but shared a bond only those left behind could share. Some stood with small children, children who had probably never seen their other parent face to face before. She touched her stomach and wondered if she would ever experience parenthood with him, if he’d want to, if he’d want her.

Everyone eagerly watched the plane taxi down the tarmac after it landed, growing closer with every foot it travelled. Finally, it stopped and a mobile staircase was wheeled up against the side of the plane.

When the door to the plane opened, the waiting families began cheering. She couldn’t resist joining in. She wondered if he would be surprised to see her here.

Men and women in various versions of camo began exiting the plane, smiles huge on their faces as they found their families in the crowd.

When he came out, everything else faded away. The voices of the other people, the noise of the planes, the wind, none of it broke through. Only him. She walked towards him, her legs suddenly stiff as she looked upon his face for the first time in nearly five years. He looked older, more worn, the things he had seen aging him.

He clearly wasn’t expecting anyone. His eyes did not scan the crowds, his step not as eager as the others. She hoped he would notice her standing there.
As his feet touched American soil for the first time, he finally looked up ... right to where she was waiting. He stopped, startled, and his jaw dropped. The men behind him nearly tripped, unprepared for his sudden stop. They groused a bit but moved around him.

Like a switch being flipped, his face broke into a huge smile and he ran over to where she waited. The expression on her face matched his, her cheeks actually hurting from how wide she was smiling.

“Samantha ... I don’t believe it. Are you really here?” he asked breathlessly, hovering in front of her, unsure to sweep her up in a hug and kiss or something more platonic.

“I am, John. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” She closed the distance between them until there were only inches between their bodies.

“Sam, you have no idea how happy seeing you makes me.”

“You’ve kept me waiting a long time, mister,” she whispered.

“Well, I’m here now, and I’m never going away again.” He finally couldn’t take it anymore and wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to his chest. Her scent surrounded him and he felt like he was in heaven. He loosened his grip on her just enough to allow him to kiss her.

When the reunited couple finally came up for air, Samantha clasped John’s hands in hers and led her towards the concourse.

“Come on, John. It’s time to go home. I have lots of things to show you.”

KekahJ Week 81: The Apartment

KekahJ
Wednesday



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KekahJ's Choice: Both

Title:

The Apartment

Her heels made a satisfying clicking sound on the hardwood floor as she crossed the expanse of the massive room. The real estate agent seemed tiny in comparison, even though he was roughly her same height. He struggled to keep her pace.

“As you can see the floors are all hardwood; a rare breed imported from--” He was silenced by her raised hand, wrist laden with expensive bangles which skidded and careened together with the movement.

“I’ll take it,” she said simply.

“Oh, fantastic. You won’t regret it. I knew as soon as I saw this place that it wouldn’t last long. I ...” He began to gush, but trailed off when he looked up and saw her shaking her head. It was the first time he’d actually brought himself to make eye contact with her and his heart seemed to momentarily thud to a stop.

“I will take it only if you do not say another word, Mr. Nelson,” she said. Her dark hair was pulled into a bun at the back of her head. On anyone else it would have looked austere and even severe, but on her it only served to accentuate the delicate curve of her jaw and make her neck seem even more long and slender. Her eyes were the most amazing color he’d ever seen. Later, he’d recall them as gold, but then decide that he must have been mistaken. No one had gold eyes.

She resumed her brisk stroll around the apartment, but instead of following her, the agent stayed where she left him.

“Let me ask you a question,” she called from across the huge room. He remained silent for a moment. Even from across the room he could see the ghost of a smile on her lips as she added, “You may speak, Mr. Nelson.” Her tone was patient, almost condescending and would have been offensive coming from someone else. Somehow from her, however, he didn’t seem to mind.

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded.

“Tell me about the staircase. It’s not original.” It was not a question.

Mr. Nelson began shuffling through his notes, his heart suddenly racing. He mumbled something unintelligible and felt his face flush as he searched desperately for anything that would help him. For some reason he wanted very much to make this woman happy.

He started when she spoke again, this time from right next to him. How had she moved so quickly? “Do you have that information in your notes?” she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“I don’t know, I’m sorry. I can’t find anything to say that the staircase is not original. The building was built in 1921. The kitchen was renovated three years ago, but I don’t have any information on the staircase. I would assume it’s original.” He finished with a shrug.

She shook her head. “It’s not. I was in this very apartment years ago, and that staircase was not here.” She pointed to the massive spiraling staircase, bangle bracelets clinking together again as she moved.

“Oh,” he said, surprise evident. “I was unaware that you’d been here before.”

She nodded. “Yes, I fell in love with the place then, and I’ve been keeping a casual eye out for it to become available ever since.” She smiled and began to pace the apartment again, this time at a slower pace. He was unsure what to say, so he remained silent.

“Well, no matter about the staircase. I can always have the original one restored later. I remember what it looked like,” she said, tapping her temple with a slender finger as she returned to his side.

Relieved, he nodded.

“I assume you’ll draw up all the necessary paperwork?” she asked.

Apparently mute, he nodded again.

“Fantastic. I’ll contact your office in a few days then to finalize everything. Thank you, Mr. Nelson.”

He nodded for a third time, and stuck his hand out to shake hers. She gave it the briefest of fleeting glances, and pursed her lips slightly. He flushed again as he withdrew his hand awkwardly. Before he could manage to say anything else, she was gone.

Relieved to be alone, he sank down to the floor, letting his notes and paperwork rest on his knees. He wasn’t sure why she made him so nervous. Was it her beauty, or something more?

The back of his neck was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and as he reached for his handkerchief to wipe it away, his papers slid off his knees and fanned out around him. He glanced down and chuckled. Of course. The very paper that had eluded him minutes ago now stared up at him mockingly.

Out of curiosity, he picked it up. He had been right about the year the building was built: 1921. He smiled and shook his head as he continued reading. She had been right. The staircase was not original. The smile faded from his face a moment later. He struggled to think back to their conversation. Hadn’t she said she’d visited this apartment prior to the staircase remodel? Numbers swam in his head as he tried to do the math. That was impossible. The staircase had been remodelled only fifteen years after the apartment was built. That would have been 1936. How could she have visited the apartment prior to the remodel? He was unsure of her exact age, but she couldn’t be more than twenty-five or twenty-six.

He sighed and shook his head as he gathered up his papers. He made a note to himself to ask her about it when she returned to his office in a few days to do the final paperwork.
Surely she was mistaken.

Burntcore Week 81: Life After the Laughter is Gone

Burntcore
Tuesday



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Picture 2

Burntcore's Choice: Picture 1


Title:

Life After the Laughter is Gone

I fingered the pale blue paper that was pinned to my corkboard of my dormroom. Shelley scribbled that note to me one day in chem lab when I was having a rough day. She always did stuff like that. Little stuff to let you know she was thinking about you or something to cheer you up. She was great like that.

Was.

She can’t cheer me up anymore. No one can. My parents tried. My sister Ellie tried. It didn’t work. Only Shelley had that affect on me.

And she was … gone.

Her laugh was gone. Her smile was gone. Everything. Gone.

It was so stupid. Such a freak twist of fate. No drunk driver, no drug overdose, or any other typical kind of things that happen in college. Nope. Far from it.

Shelley was loud and vivacious. Everyone knew when she was in the room. She was one of those people who were alive without being obnoxious. She lit up the room with her presence and the world was better for having her in it.

Yet, an aneurism, a tiny little blockage in her brain took her away. A silent, insidious killer for someone who was anything but silent.

We were hanging out with some friends, listening to music and studying when she complained about a really bad headache. Within a few minutes she was having a seizure.

Several of us thought that maybe she had meningitis, but this was much, much worse.

By the time she was at the hospital, she had lost consciousness. Shelley never woke up before she finally passed away a week later. I never got to see her bright blue eyes again. I never got to hear her laugh again. I never got to hug her again.

As my mind whirled, I rocked back and forth, curled up on my bed. I went through all the things that I thought we’d experience together, that I was left alone to discover.

My life was now nothing but a series of events that Shelley would never do again. Our finals she’d never take. The Winter Formal she wouldn’t attend. Spring Break she wouldn’t get. Graduation. It went on and on.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This wasn’t a part of the plan.

I was perched precariously on the edge of the void that Shell’s death created. I wasn’t sure if I could keep myself from falling in. Only she could pull me back ...

... but there was Ellie and my parents.

Could I do the same thing to them? I shuddered and curled up tighter, uncertain of what to do next.