Month: July 2008 (Page 2 of 4)

The heat was what suprised him most. It had been a traditionally chilly July morning at Heathrow, but when he stepped off the plane in Newark he was struck by how much warmer it really was.

Now, standing by the exit of Terminal A at Newark Liberty International Airport he looked out at the crazy over-sized cars and the comings and goings and realised that the movies and television really did not lie; America really does look that way.

A small group of fellow travellers were swapping airline war stories;

“And then they told me the delay was due to poor weather conditions! Do you see any goddamn bad weather?”

“Oh I know. The last time I flew [deleted] they lost my bags. I was travelling for work and I could not change my clothes for thirty-six hours! I mean that’s not service, right?”

He smiled. It was good to be on holiday, to not have a care in the world. So his connecting flight was delayed; it did not really matter.

He wandered back into the terminal, into the bar and sat down.

“Sam Adams, please.”

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

“In nomine Patri, Fili, Spiritus Sancti, Amen.”

The small gathering of people mumbled their echo, and then began to walk away from the hole in the ground.

Ophelia was rooted to the spot, gripping the Incan necklace in her hands, willing them all to leave so that none would see her cast it into the dark cleft, to rest with Alonso’s body in this foreign ground.

Why had they come here? How had he persuaded her that the risks of the Peruvian jungle were worth taking?

She was crying now. The tears had begun to fall, silently, as the last footsteps disappeared out of earshot. She walked slowly to the edge of her husband’s grave and sank to her knees at the head end. There he was, bound in strips of cloth, as his will had requested. No coffin to keep him from the land he had loved so much. As she droped the golden necklace, sobs wracked her small frame and then a scream of pain forced its way out. She collapsed in the soft mud.

All at once she started; all around there were eyes in the jungle, watching her.

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

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This Ficlet was inspired by the contribution of a Place, an Item and an Activity on Livejournal by snorkel_maiden. They were; Peru, a Ceremonial Golden Necklace, a Burial.

In that moment he felt as though he could die on the next day and feel happy. Whenever he tried to explain it to anyone later the words sounded so corny, so meaningless, but in that moment, that place, that time, he had felt so complete, so utterly whole. In all the times that he had made love, had sex and even fucked both before and after, with her, with others, nothing had felt so utterly perfect as the moment he had slid inside her that morning.

They had locked their gaze, they were holding each other close. They were apart, and then they were one. Neither of them moved for a long, ineffable moment, and then their mouths had met and as the heat from their kiss had mixed with the heat from between their legs, their bodies had begun to move with a will and purpose all of their own. First fast and frantic and then slow and tender and then everything all at once. Neither of them could tell whether they had been locked together for seconds or minutes; moving, feeling and all the while staring into each other.

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

“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.

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

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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?”

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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’.”

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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.

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

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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.”

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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.

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

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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 🙂