365 Ficlets – Day #22 ~ “Like a thief, Death crept into our lives…”

When I arrived home from work, Sara was in the bedroom; there were no lights on. Initially I had thought that I was the first to get home, but then I heard the sobbing; why was she crying?

I followed the sound, my heart breaking with every step; her pain flowing through me, not like a stream, but like short pulses of hard, icy water. I had never heard such sounds come out of her.

I pushed open the bedroom door and there she was, her entire face wet with tears, the knuckles on her left hand white where she was almost crushing her phone, and her whole body shaking with grief. She looked up at me, her eyes like deep wells in the cold ground of her ashen face and just said;

“Dad’s dead.”

The next moment she threw herself at me and clung to me so hard that I was on my knees in the doorway before I knew anything else. She was still shaking; my neck was already wet with her tears. I pushed my fingers into her hair, gently stroked her head and kissed her forehead;

“I’m so sorry darling.”

It was all I had.

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365 Ficlets – Day #21 ~ “Last Night a DJ Saved my Life”

Jonas stared at the mixer, trying to work out why he had said that he would DJ. It was one thing to put sets together in his room at home, where there was no one to hear his amateurish beat matching and no one to groan out loud when he mis-cued a track. William was finishing his set, and the crowd were already worked up into a frenzy. If he had not been concentrating on the first three tracks that he was going to spin Jonas would have been as carried away by Will’s set. It was an easy trick to play, but hard to knock based on how good a reaction he was getting; he was looping a key-change section that built toward a crescendo and mixing in a good complimentary beat underneath. It was the mixing equivalent of bringing the crowd to the brink of orgasm and then slowing it down again and going around one more time.

“You ready to go? I’m going to build this one more time and then you need to cue-up for your takeover, ok?”

Jonas nodded, trying to look cool, to not sweat so much; this was it. Time to prove it.

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365 Ficlets – Day #20 ~ “History”

Jana looked at the letter again. What on Earth was she going to do about this? She thought that Adam was long gone from her life. It had been a long time ago, when they were both a lot younger. They had been at University together. They had run headlong, practically hand in hand into the kind of love affair that people generally only experience in their youth.

They say that the flame that burns too brightly never burns for long, and it had not been long before the cracks had begun to show. She had needed a saviour, he had needed to be someone’s hero. He was good to her, he had not pressured her into sex too soon, he had not smothered her with his constant presence, he had not been jealous about her time… The problem was that she was not really in love with him. She cared about him, she enjoyed his company and his mind, his affections and yes his body, but she did not really love him.

She ran away. They had tried to remain friends, but they drifted apart. Now here he is in a letter, coming to see her. Why?

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365 Ficlets – Day #19 ~ “Shivers”

Lennie reached out, his hand shaking, towards the hot toddy. He knew in the back of his mind that whisky mixed with sugar, hot water and lemon juice was in no way going to cure his cold. The thing was he did not care so much, because the drink was making him feel good or perhaps drunk. It was hard to say.

Even though he had enjoyed the warehouse party a couple of days before, he was starting to wonder if spending all night in a leaky, dirty warehouse with eight hundred people and kissing and hugging a large number of them had been smart. Certainly the rattling noise that the phlegm caught in the top of his chest was making seemed to indicate that it had been a bad choice.

The thing was that Trance Garden was not like any other club night. Lennie had stopped going to clubs for years when he had realised that they were full of people who were prettier and cooler than him, and they knew it and did not want to know him. Trance Garden was not like that; there he felt like part of a family; a good, loving family.

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365 Ficlets – Day #18 ~ “Epiphany”

Michael tried not to utter a sound, but try as he might a small whimper did escape his lips. He looked around hurriedly to try and ascertain whether or not anyone was paying particular attention to the stall that he and Sadie were in. Satisfied that they remained undetected he relaxed a little and let himself enjoy the moment. He looked into Sadie’s eyes as she looked back up at him, grinned mischievously and then flicked her tongue across the tip of his cock once again. It was like a small electric shock that started there and shot to the base of his prick, then accelerated across his body. The combination of the massage that she was giving to his balls, and then the intermittent and almost lightning licks, followed by her breathing her gentle, cold breath onto him where she had made him wet with her tongue, was the most delicious torture. No one had ever prolonged his pleasure like this, and he savoured every moment.

“Are you ready?”

He nodded and waited; the world exploded behind his eyes and he came.

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365 Ficlets – Day #17 ~ “Changing the Guard”

Loric was starting to wonder if he was ever going to see any action at all. It was all very well being in charge of the gate guard, but being good at keeping a tight hold on the security of the centre of the city made his chances of going off to the front slim at best.

In fact the worst thing about wanting a chance to prove his mettle was that in order to get into a fight the Ellenians would have to over-run not only the outer curtain wall, but fight their way through four circles of the city and defeat his guard before he attempted to defend the door from the keep yard into the King’s chamber. There was no circumstance under which this would be a good thing; the war would be over to the detriment of his country.This was too high a price.

As the sun set to his left, across the city, he turned his attention back to the latest dispatches and tried to count his blessings, to be thankful for being close to his wife and children. All he wanted to do was join his friends on the front, under the setting sun.

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365 Ficlets – Day #16 ~ “Circus, Circus”

Jarod felt his heart stop, for just a moment, as she dropped down the rope and came to rest on the crossbar. There in the dark he felt as though he was alone watching her on the trapeze. Her grace belied a strength that went beyond impressive. She wrapped her form around the ropes and the crossbar, with apparent ease, and Jarod saw the muscles in her arms flexing and straining, but not once did the effort register on her face, and not once did her moves appear anything less than trivial to her. The act was like a dance and the mood was one of fear and pain, no matter how beautiful a spectacle it was.

As she held one pose, the spotlight picked out the rigid muscles across the top of her chest as she allowed her head to drop back, and Jarod could have sworn that as she looked out into the crowd, she matched his gaze for just a moment. Her eyes looked so sad, indeed forlorn. He felt drawn to her, because of the melancholy portrayed by her performance, not to mention her beauty, but surely it was just the act?

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365 Ficlets – Day #15 ~ “Cold”

Cold

Really Cold

My eyes are so heavy; need to try.

Ow! Bright!

Slowly; try again. It’s so bright. I can see a lot of white, and it is so cold. Can I move? Touch your nose. Ok I can move that arm and I can see my hand. Try the other. Yeah that one’s ok too. My feet are cold. That’s good, I can feel my feet. Can I move them? Yes! Yes I can!

Sit up? Yes. Woah! Slowly; put a hand down behind you. Good. Now look around.

Snow. What’s that over there? Oh my God, that’s the plane! I remember. Harriet!

Got to get over there. There are no flames at least. Up on one knee. Feels steady. Up; careful! Just get used to it for a second. Now one foot in front of the other. Good.

It’s not that far. Only a few metres. Why is there a ringing in my ears? Must have made a lot of noise when we hit, I suppose. Oh look, my camera bag. Still intact. I guess the manufacturers were not exaggerating after all.

Nearly there. Is she here? Can’t see her; can’t see any blood either.

“Harriet!”

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365 Ficlets – Day #14 ~ “Proposal”

Stephanie could feel the cool grass under her hand as she stretched her fingers out in an uncontrolled spasm of pleasure. The new ring on her finger felt alien and yet, unsurprisingly, its presence was magnifying the joy she felt as James pulled her close and planted a myriad of kisses around her neck.

It would be safe to say that she was the happiest she had ever been in her life, in that moment. Ever since she and James had started living together she had hoped that he would ask her to marry him. She had been ready for some time, but she had put that aside to allow him the space to want marriage as much as she did rather than pressure him. She never once believed that he would take less than 3 months to make her dream come true. She smiled wryly to herself as she felt his hand begin to move up her thigh and under her skirt; he had given no clue that this was coming and just turned to her when they reached the top of the hill ‘will you marry me?’. She had said yes to that and then they were on the grass.

This Friday Ficlet was inspired by this picture from Flickr that is licensed under a compatible CC license to the one used on ficlets.com

Kasey and Adrian - eSession

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I’m up at 0200h again…

There is very little in this world that I am quite so good at as being a poor sleeper. I like to think that I can write, and that I take a half-decent photograph. I can cook and it’s not awful, and I love to talk to people; friends, strangers, fellow travellers, people in the checkout queue at the supermarket. The thing is, particularly at times like these, I am better at being a melancholy sod whose head won’t switch off as I examine (endlessly) the bits of my life that are not ‘right’ into the wee small hours of the morning.

I should be happy. I am working at a cool place (even if they are shambolic at paying my invoice(s)), I have my own place, cool toys (cameras, computers) and even more importantly the finest friends and family that anyone could ever hope to have. My social life is busy, busy, busy and I have found treasures like Planet Angel, the local (and to an extent National) goth scene, LRP and the RUCC to name just a few. I have achieved things that I am proud of – my 365 project in particular – and I am still setting myself goals and reaching them. Already the writing I am doing on a daily basis has attracted some really touching and frankly amazing praise from the ficlets.com community (just go look at some of the comments if you don’t believe me – this is a link to my profile), and I really am happy and fulfilled by that and a hundred other things about my life creatively, professionally, socially…

So why is it that I am not happy? It’s not Nadja (in case you were wondering). For all of the hurt and disappointment, she and I are finally in a place where I can honestly say that I regret nothing and I am no longer angry with her. We ‘talk’ on MSN quite often (maybe once a week) and we have had some really great, useful, honest and intimate conversations that I am so pleased we can still have.

No, in the end it is simple; I want to find the strength to really stop smoking cigarettes, instead of stopping for a week, a month, a year. I want to really find the strength to lose weight and get fit. I’m not going to live long enough if I don’t and I reckon the likelihood of getting laid, let alone having a chance at finding and keeping hold of a real relationship is getting slimmer the longer I don’t actually get it done. I’m not saying that being overweight is a barrier in itself to love / sex / intimacy, but more that I lack so much real confidence, despite the public front / mask, that I’m never going to believe that anyone wants me the way I am – after all I don’t want to be this way, just for me, so why would anyone else?

I’m not asking for answers, I’m really not; I know the answer… I have to really engage, to really want it instead of being happier to hide behind my insecurities and my weakness for smoke and food, but that’s not even half the battle. Knowing it is almost unhelpful because every fence I fall at makes me feel all the weaker. After all I know what I need to do, failing to do it just makes me resigned instead of resolved.

So, do me a favour? Don’t humour me if you see me smoking – give me shit, please. If you see me eating between meals, kick my ass. If you see me eating shite, or just too damn much, please, please, please don’t be polite. Until I get the hang of being happy without my drugs I need a little bit of negative reinforcement from the people around me – if you knew I was firing up heroin you wouldn’t just watch and stay silent; well at least I hope you wouldn’t. Food and fags are heroin to me, they are my company, my love, my happiness – particularly when I am down, but to some extent whenever I draw breath. This HAS to change.

OK, thanks for listening, thanks in advance for helping if you do and no hard feelings if you don’t – I know it’s no one’s dream to be the nag / killjoy / buzzkill and I totally understand if you don’t want to do it. Now I go to try and sleep…