Tag Archives: Short Story

RP pt 1- A walk amongst the Dead

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This is a Role Play I am currently working on for the Bloodletting game. I play both characters involved. They have a love/hate relationship pretty much. If you are interested in seeing just what the Bloodletting RPG is all about, check it out at Bloodletting.org.  If you decide you want to sign up and feel like getting one of my characters a little bank for it, use the following links:

(Addison) http://www.bloodletting.org/other_pages/registration.php?user=149254

(Genesis) http://www.bloodletting.org/other_pages/registration.php?user=151855

Keep in mind, Genesis is a Lycan, and Addison is a Slayer, though was a former vampire. She’s the weird one of the two. 😛

Part One:

Genesis:

She woke up, her head groggy, her eyes seeing stars and there was a strange buzzing in her ears. She took mental inventory of her body situation. Toes wiggled, fingers flexed. She turned her head from side to size. She took in the smell. Damp, rank. Gross. Decay and rot. An undercurrent of sea water. Salt in the humid air.

Genesis finally became more aware, her eyes clearing. She sat up, finding herself on a cold, wet concrete floor. The odors in this place were incredibly overpowering. The stink and stench.

She stood slowly, taking another inventory of herself. Someone had taken her weapons. Her handguns were gone, holsters and all. The knife in her boot was gone. Hell, even her lighter was gone from her pocket.

Her head ached. Apparently, from the feel of things, someone had managed to get the drop on her and bash her in the back of the head. She didn’t feel any other injuries other than the knot on the back of her skull, and the bruise to her pride that someone had gotten the better of her.

Her ears perked suddenly, to a sound in the room. More than one sound. However, one was close. A groaning of someone else in a little pain, following by a slew of cursing every swear word in the book. The voice was female. Southern drawl. One guess who it would be.

Genesis let her lip curl into a snarl for a moment, keeping herself silent. The other noises made their way to her sharp Lycan ears. Groaning, though different than what she heard before. This was deep, guttural. Groaning and moaning, occasional hissing noises. What the hell?

And she couldn’t for the life of her get that stink out of her nose. Rotten meat. Pungent and putrid. Utterly disgusting and offensive to her sensitive nose.

Genesis tried to orient herself to her surroundings. Concrete floor, old, cracked. Steel beams and mesh cages here and there. Stronger cages of steel as well. She looked upward, finding the walls and ceiling were metal. It would seem this was some sort of cavernous warehouse. Maybe a slaughterhouse? And where was it? Was she in Sydney? She couldn’t discern a regional location due to that god awful stink in the place.

She took two steps forward, where there was a little shaft of light shining into a puddle. The tangy metallic scent of blood then drifted to her nose. The puddle wasn’t of water, but of blood. Old blood, yet not yet congealed. Perhaps the humidity in the air was preventing it from drying up.

She shook her head from those thoughts, moving in the direction of the more feminine groan and lovely woven use of swear words.

She stood before a huddled ball of tiny woman, curled up on her side, holding her head, muttering and cursing still. Why her? Why ALWAYS her?

Giving the woman a look over, she seemed to be in the same predicament as herself, however, her weapon of choice was still with her. She had heard that it couldn’t be removed from her person unless she willed it, so Genesis assumed that rumor was true.

Well, at least one of them was armed.

Noise from the far end of the building echoed. Groaning, moaning and shuffling. Someone or something dragging their feet.

She nudged the other woman lying on the cold concrete with her foot. “Get up…we have company…”

 

Addison:

Addison was not a happy camper. Someone had approached her and clubbed her with a baseball bat. Thankfully, the woman was hard headed. She managed to fight. That had only served to earn her more of a beating with the aluminum bat.

Then someone had the audacity to try to take her sword from her. That had actually been funny, as the moment it left her person, her attacker, or one of them, became violently ill as the sword itself went into self-preservation mode to be reunited with its mistress.

Addison grabbed her sword back up, and was about to unsheathe it to dispatch her attackers, hoping to lop off one head at a time, but was rudely interrupted by a sharp pain in her neck. A sharp painful pinch. Just as the world started fading to black, she saw her attackers, wearing ski masks, draw back a little, one with a nice big syringe in his hand. Fuckers had drugged her. Dammit all.

She woke to a throbbing behind her eyes, and the bile in her stomach rising at the damned stink of this place. She tucked herself into a ball to escape the stink and nurse her pains. Her sword hung across her back, its vibrations warning her of dangers, yet she shushed it for now.

Then there was the nudge at her side and a familiar voice. Oh, lucky day. Wolf girl was here. She loosened from her fetal position and sat up, legs sprawled in front of her. She rubbed her head at the temples with her small hands.

“Ow.Ow.Ow. What the hell, wolf-girl? AND WHAT IS THAT SMELL??!!” She bellowed through the annoyance of pain.

Her nose couldn’t be rid of the smell. It was overpowering to the sense. And then she felt the movement around them. Something not human. Demon? She wasn’t sure at this time. Her sword was screaming at her however. Its steady pulses of energy urging her sore body to move.

She looked up to see the wolf-girl, Genesis, staring off into the shadows. Where were they even? The structure was large. It echoed. It was filthy. There was a tinge of salt water in the air. The sea was close.

Then the noise began to hit her ears. The slow shuffle. The drag of something against the floor.

The low moans.

Addison blinked the last of the fog from her eyes, moving to stand next to Genesis, drawing her cursed sword.

“Fucking zombies…” She muttered, just as one became visible. And then another, and another. These were old zombies. Slow moving. Yet, every bit as deadly as the newer, freshly bit and turned zombies. Those would probably pose a problem for the pair.

She looked over to Genesis, giving her a sharp poke to the side. “Get your guns out. Remember…head shots. OH! You can go all wolf-tastic on them!” She said enthusiastically.

She drew her sword and set to the ready. Let the fun commence.

 

More parts will be posted over the next few days! Thanks for reading!


My summer vacation…

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Well, I know I just sort of disappeared and fell off the Earth.

I AM BACK!! MWAHAHAHAHA!! ~ahems~

 

So, where did I go and what have I been doing?

 

First, I’m sad the Zombie Apocalypse hasn’t happened yet. I’M WAITING!!

 

My moms and pops traveled all the way up here to sunny, hot and humid Southern Alabama from Guatemala to take care of some important things, such as social security, banking, and renewing their retiree military IDs.

While here, my aunt also came into town, along with her hubby and one of my cousins.

 

We all had a great time. Can we say POOL PARTIES!!! And, it was my moms birthday while they were here, so that was another celebration!

 

It was a really great time, and an escape I needed.

 

I also got myself a gym membership! I adore Planet Fitness.

 

With all the fun in the sun however, I managed to get myself a bit of sun poisoning. It wasnt too bad, but annoying nonetheless.

 

My sister also came to visit. We always have a great time when she’s here.

 

My bestie (LP) and I are plotting world domination…I mean planning on her coming to visit me over here on this side of the States. Beware all.

 

I managed to catch a cold somehow, and was miserable for a week. Blah. Still recovering.

 

My furbabies are all doing great. All happy cats.

 

My daughter is doing AWESOME! She found herself the most AWESOMEST JOB EVER!! She is still doing all her normal paralegal stuff, but she works from home, making a buttload of money. She has only been with the Firm about 3 weeks, but they love her, and she has proven to be a perfect fit. Maybe she will look towards actually going to law school beyond her paralegal degree. A mom can hope.

 

So, July marks the starts of another Camp NaNoWriMo, and I’ve set myself at a pretty low word count. Short stories once again, sort of like dipping my toes into the waters once again.

 

I have been sharing some of my ~ahem~ smut stories with a fellow writer friend in my local area. She shared some of hers with me as well. She likes what I’ve got and wants to see more, so that is motivating me quite a bit to publish some of the 13 erotica novels I have, after getting them edited and getting cover designs. My erotica collection will be E-Book only.

 

November I plan to get back to my roots on the original task of finishing up the continuation of my first published novel. It seems intimidating right now. GRAH.

 

In my gaming and role play world, I have gone back to my original game, sort of testing the waters there to bring my character back into society once again. And in the other, well, today, actually, I had planned on bringing those characters out of their self-imposed exiles. So, writing will be had, and maybe even a character death. GASP!

 

How have you all been?? Send me comments, email, what have you…I know its only the 1st of July, but how has everyone been??

 

Oh, yeah…my broken foot is finally healed…I think…haha. I mean, I havent done anything to break it further. YAY!

 

The kids

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Also, let me give a shout out to Patricia, who once again has lifted my spirits by sending me a little care package of loot! LOVE ALL THE STUFF! <3


Writewritewrite

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Camp NaNo…I’m writing, honest I am. I have other plans too.

 

Yanno what? NOTHING is coming to pass as it should be. ~cries~

 

Last week I had gone to my doctor for allergies. Well, that didnt bode well, as it all turned into a ginormous chest cold. So, I went back yersterday and am on so many codiene and codience related products, I can barely think straight.  A Spiriva. I havent been on that since I had come out of that coma a few years ago.

 

And I was supposed to have lunch with my friend Stephanie yesterday. We have had to rearrange this lunch date several times now. I really miss her face. ~WAILS~

 

So, I know I promised you all stories during Camp NaNo. I’ll try to make these something decent and coherent sounding.

 

Send me healthy vibes!!!! I TOTALLY hate being sick.

 

~wears a hazmat suit to cuddle and squish you all~

 


Running: A short story (Incomplete)

This is an incomplete story. I had started it a while back, in one of my games, but the game itself went under since no one was playing it. So, I never really got the chance to finish the story. This is another one I will probably revisit if I could remember the original theme. Its wasnt quite vampires, it was something out of the ordinary (for me at least), so, hopefully I’ll remember and can get this going as a small little series of sorts.

Enjoy!

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All I could think about was to keep running, keep hiding, and keep Gennifer safe. Something dreadful had happened, and I’m still trying to put the bits and pieces together, but with all this tiring running, constant hiding, and Gens unstoppable babble is splitting my head in two.
I drop to my knees, pulling Gennifer along with me, pressing my back against the wall taking deep breaths. My lungs feel funny. I feel like I’m just gulping air, and it’s doing nothing.
“He said we wouldn’t have to do that anymore, if we just accepted him. He said he really likes us…I guess on kinda that we’re twinnies. I liked him, I don’t know why you were so mean, why you fought. Gessy, I always say your mean streak gets us nowheres.”
I looked to Gennifer. Sweet Genny. We’re twins. Though something happened in the womb. It would appear I was dominant, taking all the nutrients for development. I was a big, well-formed baby. Poor Genny was so little. And her brain just never developed right. Her body grew up and out though. We are identical. We choose to live the identical lifestyle as well. Most of the time we dress the same, do our hair the same, etc. . . . But still…you can tell who is who. Genny is all soft, like a little lost dove. I have a harder edge to me. My ‘mean streak’ as Genny calls it.
And it appears my mean streak got us in a tussle or something tonight. Bits and pieces are coming back. I looked silently over at my sister, hoping she’ll talk, tell me what my mind is missing in current events.
Genny just crossed her arms and looked away. “I *wanted* to go with the man. He was nice and friendly. The man made you nervous though, and you know what you get like…all mean and grouchy. You hit him, hard.” Genny paused, looking around them at the graffiti walls. “You beat the shit out of him Gessy. It was only after he couldn’t get up that something stopped you. He whispered to you, I dunno what he said. Then the next thing I know is you screamed out and fell down, all this blood gushing from someplace. I got scared, I hid under a table.” Gennifer put her face down, embarrassment shown clear in the crimson stain across her cheeks. “I think I pee’d myself. I got so scared. But then the he came to me, touched my face all nice. He made me feel okay. He whispered things to me, I don’t really understand what…but there is a place we have to go to, to see him again. I wanna go, I know where to go.” Genny quieted once again.

“I feel funny, like I took drugs or something…did they give me drugs Genny?” I asked my little, by 3 minutes, sister.
Gennifer shook her head to her twin. “No, no drugs. And after you beat the man up, he just got back up again. I told you that. I was scared Gessy…I was hiding…but when he was gone, I came back out for you. You were all covered in blood and your neck was all gross and hanging open. I cried and cried. I lay down beside you because I didn’t know what to do…who would take care of me?” Genny was getting teary on me…when she got teary, she got whiney.
I moved and put my arm around her. “There, there. I’m here. But how am I here?” Gessica looked down at her clothing. Sure enough, they were covered in dried blood.
“You started moving, like, in your sleep. Your throat and neck just got better, even though there was blood everywhere. And you just opened your eyes, grabbed me, and we started running. I wanna go back to find that man Gessy. He’s a magical being or something. I can feel it deep inside me…you know my ‘feelin’s are usually spot on. I got a feelin’ bout this man. Maybe he can help us and we could have a for real home!” Genny spouted.
I put my hand on her thigh. “Settle down, Gen. You said this man did something to me and when you looked, my throat was all cut open? So not sure I want to find someone like that again.”
Gennifer suddenly stood up, her blue crystalline eyes shimmering. “That’s just it Gessica! We HAVE to go to him…he did something to you, and you need him now, and what he did, I want it too! YOU started this Gessica, you hafta make it right!”
Whoa…referring to me as ‘Gessica’. She only does that when she’s in an eerie state of clarity and feeling mature. And angry. I get up, brushing my behind off.
I put my hands up, stepping closer to my sister gently. “Okay Gennifer…okay. We’ll do what you want. And…Maybe this guy will find us sooner. Something is happening to me Genny…I smell things different. Hear and see things different.”
My sister just looked at me with her big beautiful eyes, waiting for me to go on.
“I can hear…smell…almost taste…the blood coursing through you…”


Hello lovelies!!!

Hello my darlings!

I’m sorry to report that I have no short stories to share tonight. Someone dear to me had to go to the emergency room today and needs emergency surgery first thing in the morning, and I will be there.

Hopefully I’ll be able to jot some things down, maybe even produce a short story or two for tomorrow night.

Many thanks to all of you who have been reading my little stories, liking and sharing them. More to come, I promise!

~hugs~

Goodnight my lovelies!


Princess Ballerina: A short story

This is from a short story prompt on one of my Role Play sites. Each day, we are given a few different prompts. It keeps you writing, even if you arent Role Playing your character. I’ve collected quite a few, and I thought I would share them. This one is dedicated to my good friend, whole name I stole for our lovely lead character. <3 you girl!
The entrance to the morgue was always a comforting sight. Home sweet home.

Okay, maybe that was a little morbid. Patricia couldn’t help it. She’d rather spend her time with the dead rather than the living. She found their stories to be fascinating.

However, being in a city as big as this, many bodies come through that tell no clear story. The homeless where the top of that list. They had very few belongings. Hardly any of them had identification or even family that wanted to claim them.

So Patricia talked to them.

She looked over their tattered bodies and belongings. She wanted them to be remembered in some small way, even if it was just in her imagination.

Body ID # 025479-78

An elderly woman. Patricia judged her to be in her late 70’s. Her weathered skin told of a story on the streets, living in shelters, and foraging for what she could. Her grey hair had been falling out, but there was a pattern to it. She wore a cap or hat most of the time. What was left of her hair was matted and knotted.

Her body was frail, a small hump in her upper back, just below the neck. Arthritis more than likely, her hands also showed signs of it, the fingers becoming curled and painful looking.

Her clothing was layers upon layers of shirts and sweaters. The woman had body lice.

When the autopsy was completed and documents signed, Patricia took a small bag from the woman’s belongings. Most of the contents made little sense. Rocks, thread and yarn. Twisty ties. A cough drop wrapper.

In all the nonsensical things, however, was a locket. Patricia picked it up carefully. She looked over the frail chain, opening the locket. Inside was a single picture. It was old, cracked and faded.

The picture was of a ballerina. Was it this woman? Was it Body # 025479-78?

Patricia let her mind open to this woman’s story.

She was a beautiful young dancer with the Russian Ballet. She was a crown jewel. Loved by all. Her fluid grace enchanted theater goers. She headlined several ballets.

She met a young soldier and fell in love. But their love was ill fated and ended in heartbreak. The performing arts kept the young ballerina quite busy, she gave up all hope of a love life.
Matters at home became worse in ways of politics.

She and her manager defected and fled to the USA. She wasn’t the crown jewel here. The competition for headlining performances was too strong.

She was failing. No longer the Princess Ballerina.

She took what she could, and modeled when she could. She didn’t have the body most men desired, however. Long and lean, rather flat chested, few curves.

Her manager left her. She took up work in a diner serving the sailors around the shipyards. That was where she met him. The man that seemed to pull her out of the fog.

They had been so happy together, for so many years. And though they shared a lovely marriage, it wasn’t without its own tragedies. He wanted children. Lots of boys.

She failed him. A series of miscarriages until her body just gave out. A hysterectomy was performed.

He took to drinking, and so did she.

And then, one night, he just didn’t come home.

Her job just wasn’t enough, and her looks were far gone.

She faced eviction. She was starving. And even with hunger gnawing at her belly, whatever assistance she did get she took to the liquor store.

She fell in with a group of women at the shelter. It was first come, first serve on the beds. Most nights she slept outside, under tunnels, or near the train yards.

And that’s where the ballerina was found.

Patricia closed the locket. She looked to Body # 025479-78. She wished she had a happier story for the woman, one with a nice ending. In Patricia’s mind, however, none of these stories had happy endings. All she could do was image some good memories for these lost people.

She stood from her desk, moving to the body. She gently tucked the locket within the old woman’s hand. She would take her most valued possession with her into the afterlife.

The Princess Ballerina.


Camp NaNo and general update…

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Well, the end of the month is fast approaching. I know, I know, I’ve been hiding away from my blog. I really had nothing new to update with, no funny stories, no crazy antics.

BEHOLD!!! The cows have no been set loose in the field across the road…hilarity will ensue when I start antagonizing them by running past them waving a bottle of A~1 and a steak knife.

Seriously…the cows lean on the fence all the time and they get loose. I have to wrangle them up from my yard (5acres) and back to Farmer Bob to tend to.

So Camp NaNoWriMo didn’t go as I had planned. I wanted to knock out a good chunk of rewriting and editing my novel, but I just could not find my flow and rhythm for it.

So instead, to keep me writing and thinking on a daily basis, I’ve been doing contests, challenges and writing Role Plays for my games. I keep track of all my word counts on everything. So far, I’ve surpassed my word count for the month.

Some of those short stories from prompts in my games will get posted here soon. I have gotten some really great feedback on them. People really liked them. Of course, almost all of the stories are tragic, but don’t worry, only a few are vampire based. I tried to just do tragedy and twisty sorts of stories.

So far, in these challenges, my favorites have been the three word challenge. Write a 300 word short story incorporating 3 words that are given each morning. My other favorite is the random first sentence starter. 300-500 words. They give you the beginning of a first sentence…you take it from there.

I’ve had loads of fun doing it, and its HAS relieved some of the stress I’ve felt working on my book.

Fat Cat has still been acting strange. OMG… has she been a bad kitteh!!! She is doing everything she knows she’s not supposed to, and getting into places she knows are off limits. Health-wise, she’s fine. She’s just throwing tantrums it seems.

I’ll start posting some of my short stories. I used to whine and cry when it comes to short stories. I tend to get wordy, and keeping below 1500 words was a challenge. I HAVE MASTERED THE SHORT STORY!!!

Never ask me to write poetry though. Nope. Not gonna happen. I can do it. NOPE!!

~squishes you all~


Just something I wrote…

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This is just something I wrote as I was thinking of my gaming character and her feelings and actions at the time. I may write more on it…I dunno. It may never go anywhere but here. Anywho…enjoy. 🙂

She had confronted him after hearing not a word from him in so long. So much silence, yet they lived in the same home. So much silence, especially for two who were just married mere months ago.
He didn’t even seem concerned for her recent absence. She definitely noticed his. His constant coming and going.
She asked if he was having an affair. That question seemed to irritate him.
She asked what happened to the man who used to leave her flowers, notes, snarky and witty comments…
She asked if he even cared what she was going through since this new life had been bestowed upon her. The transition was hard. So hard.
Instead of concern, he seemed to turn things around. His own concerns, his own problems, his own darkness and dark thoughts.
There was no emotion for her. No concern of her well being. No affection.
No love.
He said he’d see her later that night. She shook her head as she started walking away. “No, you won’t…” She had said.
He didn’t follow. He didn’t seem concerned in the least.
He might have well just shoved a blade in her heart and gave it a twist for good measure.
True to her word, she didn’t return ‘home’ that night.
She roamed. She was used to the night. She was comfortable in the darkness.
She went to a small pub, finding it blessedly empty for the most part. There were a few surly looking patrons watching some form of sport on the television above the bar.
She went to the tables, finding one that was nice and secluded. A waitress made her way through the empty tables and chairs to take her order. Blue eyes scanned the elder woman. She was probably the barkeeps wife. This looked like a family run establishment. It was very calm and homey.
“A bottle of tequila. Gold. Lemons and salt.” She said to the waitress. The woman gave a nod. “Okay honey, coming right up…” was all she said as she made her way back to the bar to fetch the order.
The liquor, fruit and salt was delivered and paid for, as well as a hefty tip to ensure she was left alone for the remainder of the evening.
She poured her first shot, licking her hand and placing a sprinkle of salt there before licking it off, kicking back the shot, then cramming the lemon wedge in her mouth, biting and pulling the meaty citrus fruit from the rind. She squint her eyes and scrunched her nose. Wow…nice.
She thought back to their first meeting. Despite her instant physical attraction to him, the two were more likely to kill one another than actually work together. But they pushed past that initial disdain for one another and worked on.
They overcame great things together.
He gave her a night of utter bliss. She lingered on that memory for a moment. The passion, the heat. The way their bodies moved together in fluid motion in that delightful dance. The pulsing, the pounding and the writhing. The heated kisses and the swollen lips. Their tongues had graced one another as if they had known each other since the dawn of time. Fingers explored and brought forth immense pleasures.
She suddenly became aware that she was sitting there blushing, but smiling faintly as well. She sighed, pouring another shot, lining it up like the first and taking it in.
When their mission was complete and they found themselves with this strange unique bond with one another, he took her home with him. ‘Their’ home. ‘Their’ bed.
But nothing felt like ‘theirs’ to her. It was all his. And everything was on his whim, his desire, his time.
Then complications arose from an outside matter. It was such bad timing.
She seemed to be pushed off to the side as he dealt with his own personal things, without so much as a single concern with how she was faring and coming to terms with the trials she had just faced.
So here she was, in a bar, sitting in a darkened corner trying to get drunk. What purpose would that serve?
None.
She wasn’t going to be going back to ‘their’ home this night however. Thankfully she had plenty of ‘safe houses’ all over the world. She could go anywhere, really.
She didn’t want to give up on him. She didn’t want to give up on them.
He was the first man to make her feel this way. So torn up inside that she actually wanted to break down and cry. She hated it. At the moment she hated him.


Just something I wrote…

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This is just something I wrote as I was thinking of my gaming character and her feelings and actions at the time. I may write more on it…I dunno. It may never go anywhere but here. Anywho…enjoy. 🙂

She had confronted him after hearing not a word from him in so long. So much silence, yet they lived in the same home. So much silence, especially for two who were just married mere months ago.
He didn’t even seem concerned for her recent absence. She definitely noticed his. His constant coming and going.
She asked if he was having an affair. That question seemed to irritate him.
She asked what happened to the man who used to leave her flowers, notes, snarky and witty comments…
She asked if he even cared what she was going through since this new life had been bestowed upon her. The transition was hard. So hard.
Instead of concern, he seemed to turn things around. His own concerns, his own problems, his own darkness and dark thoughts.
There was no emotion for her. No concern of her well being. No affection.
No love.
He said he’d see her later that night. She shook her head as she started walking away. “No, you won’t…” She had said.
He didn’t follow. He didn’t seem concerned in the least.
He might have well just shoved a blade in her heart and gave it a twist for good measure.
True to her word, she didn’t return ‘home’ that night.
She roamed. She was used to the night. She was comfortable in the darkness.
She went to a small pub, finding it blessedly empty for the most part. There were a few surly looking patrons watching some form of sport on the television above the bar.
She went to the tables, finding one that was nice and secluded. A waitress made her way through the empty tables and chairs to take her order. Blue eyes scanned the elder woman. She was probably the barkeeps wife. This looked like a family run establishment. It was very calm and homey.
“A bottle of tequila. Gold. Lemons and salt.” She said to the waitress. The woman gave a nod. “Okay honey, coming right up…” was all she said as she made her way back to the bar to fetch the order.
The liquor, fruit and salt was delivered and paid for, as well as a hefty tip to ensure she was left alone for the remainder of the evening.
She poured her first shot, licking her hand and placing a sprinkle of salt there before licking it off, kicking back the shot, then cramming the lemon wedge in her mouth, biting and pulling the meaty citrus fruit from the rind. She squint her eyes and scrunched her nose. Wow…nice.
She thought back to their first meeting. Despite her instant physical attraction to him, the two were more likely to kill one another than actually work together. But they pushed past that initial disdain for one another and worked on.
They overcame great things together.
He gave her a night of utter bliss. She lingered on that memory for a moment. The passion, the heat. The way their bodies moved together in fluid motion in that delightful dance. The pulsing, the pounding and the writhing. The heated kisses and the swollen lips. Their tongues had graced one another as if they had known each other since the dawn of time. Fingers explored and brought forth immense pleasures.
She suddenly became aware that she was sitting there blushing, but smiling faintly as well. She sighed, pouring another shot, lining it up like the first and taking it in.
When their mission was complete and they found themselves with this strange unique bond with one another, he took her home with him. ‘Their’ home. ‘Their’ bed.
But nothing felt like ‘theirs’ to her. It was all his. And everything was on his whim, his desire, his time.
Then complications arose from an outside matter. It was such bad timing.
She seemed to be pushed off to the side as he dealt with his own personal things, without so much as a single concern with how she was faring and coming to terms with the trials she had just faced.
So here she was, in a bar, sitting in a darkened corner trying to get drunk. What purpose would that serve?
None.
She wasn’t going to be going back to ‘their’ home this night however. Thankfully she had plenty of ‘safe houses’ all over the world. She could go anywhere, really.
She didn’t want to give up on him. She didn’t want to give up on them.
He was the first man to make her feel this way. So torn up inside that she actually wanted to break down and cry. She hated it. At the moment she hated him.


Some inspiration from Literary Journal Editor/Publisher Marcella Simmons…

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Some inspiration from Literary Journal Editor/Publisher Marcella Simmons...

Creative Writing Comes from the Heart
by Marcella Simmons
Writing can be taught. It can be learned. But the best writing comes from a person’s heart and soul. The ability to express ones’ emotions in words can only come from within. Every person has a writer-self within themselves, like it or not. It’s just that some people have no desire to utilize the God-given talent they were born with while others utilize it to its fullest extent. A writing class is good but the creativity must come from within your soul.
I have read stories written by English teachers – stories that made me cringe. They were dry and dull, without any emotion. Sure, they were grammatically correct and not a punctuation out of place anywhere. It was apparent these teachers had the God-given, but the desire to apply the heart and soul emotions weren’t visible, giving way to a story that left the reader dissatisfied and longing to quit reading. I know because I was one of them. I’d give anything to have a degree in English – oh what it would do for my writing. Some of the stories I have read lacked in merit because they were nothing more than a list of details about something about the class or something they did. The stories written and presented by the student I have had the pleasure of reading were funny or sad and showed more feeling in a child-like way than any of the teachers that sent things to me to read.
Without the desire, a person who writes is nothing more than that – a person who writes something. Every person has a certain amount of creativity but if emotion and feelings are not embedded, it’s not creative work at all, be it writing or art or anything for that matter.
I am a writer – my work isn’t always the best as it could be, but I try my best to instill feelings and emotions in my work, especially fiction. It may not win a Pulitzer prize or be the best piece you ever read, but if you read long enough you’ll notice a few of my heart strings attached every now and then. And sometimes, you even see the tears and blood and feel the pain… or share the laughter…
My six year old grandson loves to draw and he ‘gets down with it’ when he is creating pictures for me, for his mommy or anyone else who is the recipient of his heartfelt gifts. I always say he is going to be the next Pablo Picasso because he puts his heart into every picture. I’ve seen real paintings in galleries that were dry and tasteless, with no feeling whatsoever. Yet, there are those that stand out and say, “Take me home!”
Jyoti Arora couldn’t have said it better … pick up your wand and let magically words flow forth… “Creativity is a magic wand that works two ways. When you set it in action and seek to create something, it does not just brings into existence that object or work, it also raises in your heart a dream, a hope, and a will to achieve that creation. And when all else seems lost and steeped in hopelessness, the magic of creativity can still keep you going. For when all else seem dark, an urge to create something would still give you an aim to look forward to. And if you just take hold of this urge, it will take hold of you and see you through even the darkest times. Like it did to me.” ― Jyoti Arora
My point is simple. If you are a writer, don’t worry about spelling and grammar – edit later. If you have a story in your heart and it must be told, only you can put it out there. Don’t worry about the syntax or usage until the editing stages. Just write and get every word out of your heart and onto paper, before you let the emotions and feelings fade. Grammar is not that important in your first draft. That’s what revision is for. That first draft is what comes out of you, from your heart, your mind and your soul.
Nine times out of ten, if your story doesn’t grab your reader from the first two or three paragraphs, then they’re likely to quit reading and move on to something that is not boring, dry or dull. Don’t try and force your feelings into your story either. Relax, and let the words flow naturally, and freely. Remember, the best stories are found within you and come from within. Share your message to the world and let your sun shine in….
Check out these sites:
The Writer’s Monthly Review Magazine
http://writersmonthlyreview.com/
Join our fan page at https://www.facebook.com/groups/816413681744217/
Cahaba River Literary Journal
https://cahabariverliteraryjournal.wordpress.com/
https://www.facebook.com/groups/1505827313012865/
POETRY EXPRESSIONS FROM THE HEART
http://poeticexpressionsfromtheheart.wordpress.com/
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Poetic-Expressions-from-the-Heart/1736633686561957
Toledo Bend American Christian Writers #3112
http://toledobendamericanchristianwriters3112.wordpress.com/
https://www.facebook.com/groups/1507323859533294/
POETS & WRITERS BLOG
http://poetsandwritersblog.com/
http://www.facebook.com/groups/1505471359731970/

A note from Marcy – the first issue of The Writer’s Monthly Review Magazine is still warm off the press and we do have copies left over for all who’d like to see a sample – send a $5.50 check or money order to:
THE WRITER’S MONTHLY REVIEW
Dept. Sample Copy
2413 Bethel Rd
Logansport LA 71049
Hit the SUBSCRIBE button via PayPal on our website at
http://writersmonthlyreview.com/ $25 US/$35 Other Countries
I’m sending out a submission call for February – email me for Writer’s Guidelines at writersmonthlyreviewmag@gmail.com

Please check these sites monthly for calls for submissions. They are looking for just about everything…poetry, short stories (no erotica please), photography, etc.. Just click the links for specific guidelines!


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