“Is that really him?”

Looking through the peep hole into the small bare cell Jacob could not believe that he was finally in custody.

“Yeah, Jacob, it’s him. We took so long to find him and now that he’s here I can’t believe it myself.”

“I’ve heard the stories, but I’ve always assumed that he would, you know, look evil. He just looks like someone’s old dad; tired and infirm. Are we really sure?”

Werner just nodded, and then shook his head.

On the other side of the door Eli turned his face away from the door and smiled to himself. Did they not realise that he could hear them through the peephole; after all it was just a hole in the door. Already he was starting to see how he might at least cheat the death penalty if he played his hand properly.

His thoughts turned back to the killing times; the days when he had been empowered and encouraged to give full reign to his pleasure in dealing death. His smile widened. He knew that no one would ever understand the pleasure he took in it; it did not matter now.

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

—

This Ficlet was inspired by the final capture of Radovan Karadžić on the 21st of July 2008, as reported on the English Front Page of Wikipedia.

You can find out about him here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Radovan_Karad%C5%BEi%C4%87

Clearly the above story is a fiction based on the widely accepted, but as yet unproven (in court) allegations that Radovan Karadžić is a war criminal; this story is in no way meant to be prejudicial nor is it meant to indicate that he is guilty before he has been tried.

“…take you down to the other side…“

The dub-step thundering out of the speakers as he threw the shifter up into third was having more than a little of the desired effect on his driving. Even under normal circumstances, when his stress was low or at least under control he did not play that CD in the car, but tonight was different.

He had been at home, just relaxing, watching a couple of the shows he had bought on DVD ; spending time just with himself. When the phone rang he assumed it would be one of his mates wanting to whine about Chelsea (again), or his sister looking for tech support. He did not even look at the display, just thumbed the green phone button and put it to his ear;

‘Hey, Jed here…”

“I need your help. I would not have called, but I can’t call anyone else.”

He could hear the fear in her voice; the timbre of utter despair edging its way in to make itself known as well.

“What’s happened?”

“I can’t… Not on the phone. Just come to Paul’s and bring some cash, please? A Ton, yeah?”

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

“Oh yeah and anyway there is a comfort in a place that you know so well you can see it in your mind’s eye when you are not there.”

I nodded; I understood what Luke was saying, but I still felt that he had misunderstood my question.

“I know it’s good to visit your family home, but I’m not really talking about that. What I mean when I ask ‘can you ever really go home?’ is not whether or not you are actually able to visit the place, or whether or not it is a pleasant or even bearable experience. I’m asking you if it is possible to still have the same relationship to your parents and siblings as you did when you were a child?”

He nodded back to me, and then sat for a moment, clearly thinking about what I had asked, as if he had never really thought about it before.

“I suppose it is about what that word ‘home’ means to you. For me it is a little bit about the people and the place, but it is more about support, acceptance and love and I can still find all of that from my family. So I can and do ‘go home’.”

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

The machine-gun rattle of the ratchet on the jib sheet winch snapped me out of my reverie and reminded me that we were tacking. I needed to think about where I was sitting, what I was doing and holding and where I was looking. I had been staring off at the coast,at the waves as they crashed into the end of the headland. Such power and majesty – I see it often and yet it always moves me.

Jacques turned to me, cigarette in his mouth as ever, and nodded that all was ok; we had gone about cleanly and now we needed to trim the boat and do our part to help Yves plough the course that would extend our lead. As I settled into my spot I closed my eyes and enjoyed the warm sun on my face and the fresh smell of the sea on the breeze; the feeling of salt on my skin.

I have been told by some that it is corny to speak romantically of the sea and my connection to it – we are an island nation, so we are all sailors at heart they have said to me. Still in that moment I knew no greater joy than making way under sail.

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

—

This Ficlet was inspired by the following image:

Photo by sharkbait (on Flickr)

“Come on, come in here; I can’t wait!”

Lori dragged me into a cupboard that I had not even seen and closed the door behind us. There in the dark she started to push her hand down my pants, to free up my hardening cock; her mouth covering my face with kisses. My head was spinning, I was still in the corridor just walking along hand in hand, but clearly Lori was not just at the next level; in her mind I was already inside her and now she was fighting to bring me up to speed.

“That’s right. Come on, baby, I want you inside me, now! Hurry!”

Before I had met Lori there had always been a part of me that wanted a sexually voracious lover. The thing was now that I had her there were times when it was tough to tell whether I was as much of an object to her as I felt. I know, from a male perspective it’s a terrible problem to have; I should have just shut up and enjoyed all the sex that I had always wanted, but I needed to know that what I wanted mattered as well. I could not believe I was saying it;

“No, stop.”

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

“What do you mean ‘This will only work here and now’? You are starting to sound like you believe in magic, Edward.”

Teri had resented carrying the heavy cardboard box that had been in the boot of their car for two days. He would not say what was inside it. All that he had said was that it would all become clear once they arrived at The Alhambra, in Granada. She was used to his impromptu trips; she had even been happy to be asked along for once, but now she was starting to wonder why she trusted him at all. They had arrived in The Court of the Lions and like a change in the wind she already saw a different man in him.

“You will see, Teri. Tonight I am going to release my brother from his torment and then, together, we will see such sights…”

She shuddered, as if a cold hand had touched her shoulder.

“You’re scaring me Ed. What do you mean?”

“Oh you’ll see, but you are right to be afraid; quite right indeed.”

His eyes flashed red, and she turned to run. Sadly the feeling was not only gone from her arms.

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

—

This Ficlet was brought to you by the suggestion for ‘Three Things’ from 8w_gremlin Those three things were:

1. A location: The Alhambra
2. An object: A cardboard box
3. An activity: Losing ones ability to feel

Thanks mon ami – I hope that you like what I did with your inspiration 🙂

The bench was wet, but he sat there anyway. Josiah had sat there every day for nearly 33 years. He had been on the street that day; the day that Charcoal Alley got its name. He was nine years old when 103rd street had been razed to the ground at the hands of the rioters. He could remember the heat; it had been unbearable, all of the stores burning along the road.

As he sat and watched the new Blue Line train zip by the old Watts Station, Josiah could not help but think of the angry mobs of men, looting and fighting in the streets. Like a lot of kids he had hidden from them, but he had watched. Seen things that no child should see. There were times when it seemed so far away to him; now there were strong black figures in the movies, the pop charts, in politics even; so much more than then, and that was not really the half of it. Even if the election brought Obama to the Whitehouse there would still be his memories of that time. Hate would take longer than a man’s life to be banished, as far as he could tell.

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

The sun felt good on her face, it raised her heart just enough. She knew that she would catch hell for leaving the castle and losing the guards that her father put such stock in. She was strong and agile but surely if they were worth their retainer she should not be able to evade them so easily.

As she wandered through the cherry orchard, idly picking fruit, she let her mind wander to Lissa. She could see her soft white skin, her smooth toned body slick with the dark water of the reflecting pool as she had climbed out under the moonlight. She burned to touch her, to kiss her. Lissa would never bear to hear it she knew that. One of her spying sessions had yielded the fact that Lissa was attracted to men. It had been hard and yet so powerful to watch her making love to Damon in the maze, their bodies becoming one in the night. Even with the lust that she felt there was something deeper there as well. Not being able to tell Lissa, knowing that it would hurt her, that was what cut her deeper than anything else.

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

The wind whipped the rain into his face; his hood offered no protection from the sharp needles of water, it was that it was keeping him warmer than he would be without it that gave him any comfort.

He had been on the road for twelve days, on the back roads, sleeping in ditches. When he had volunteered to be one of the Duke’s couriers he had forseen horses and diplomatic protections and heraldry, not traveling incognito on foot, jumping at every shadow. For the first six months he found it impossible to get used to carrying a sword whenever he left the manor, and even more troublesome to sleep with it by his side, slightly loosed from its scabbard.

He crested the hill and looked down at the valley through the rain and gloom; even though it was a hour before sunset it was almost as dark as a moonless night. He knew that it was important that he made it across the valley before night really fell, but the dark shapes moving along the treeline a hundred yards down the hill made him wonder at the chances of that.

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.