Author: maleghast (Page 23 of 35)

She smiled as she ran her fingers through his hair. The early morning sunlight was filtering through the blinds and across his face as he slept on, peaceful in a way that she had not seen for a long time.

All of the time that he was away she had worried that he was not sleeping. Many times before they had become a couple she heard him explain that he did not sleep well when he was left to sleep alone. She had wondered if other women hearing him explain this felt the way that she did, that it sounded awfully like he wanted a woman to be in his bed just so that he could get a good night’s sleep. Once she decided that she wanted to be that woman, and once she had become her, she came to realise that this impression was not quite correct. While it was true that he slept well with her in his bed, she was left with no doubt that it was actually her presence rather than a presence that was the key.

She traced a fingertip across his brow; she slept well with him too, but she particularly loved waking him with a kiss.

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Karsten turned off the wireless and turned to face the gathered throng. Normally there was at least some kind of wisecrack from someone if not a return to the back and forth of conversation when the evening news report was concluded. The children were quickly sent to bed; almost as soon as they had left the room the shouting began.

For a short while he allowed the frightened, angry adults to speak and shout over each other; then

“Friends! There are things we need to discuss, and this will be easier if we do not all speak at once.”

There was a gentle murmur of assent. Karsten felt the sense that they were relieved that he was taking the lead. He was not sure why they were looking to him.

“The rumours that we have been hearing are clearly true. I don’t mean to alarm any of you, but I think that it might be time for us all to consider leaving Germany. These latest laws make a reality of the sense we have all been worried about for a while. Malachi, do you still have a connection that we can use to get into America?

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This Ficlet was inspired by the front page of Wikipedia for the 15th of September 2008, in English. The Featured Article was about the passing of the Nuremburg Laws in pre World War II Germany, 1935; you can find out more here.

“I don’t think that you understand, James. I’m not saying that I’m not attracted to men anymore, I’m saying that I have discovered I am attracted to women, and I am being honest with you about the fact that I slept with one.”

James’ face fell even further, and he seemed to gasp for air as he tried to speak.

“You slept with someone else, Ken? I mean let’s put aside that it was a woman for a moment and deal with that. How could you cheat on me?”

Ken’s shoulders fell, as though he was relaxing having shed a heavy burden, and he slumped back into the armchair, his head in his hands. He could not look James in the eye.

“James, I… I did not feel as though I was cheating at the time, it felt as though with it being a woman I had an excuse, but I feel as though it was now. I feel guilty now, and you should know that it happened, but how could I cheat on you? I don’ t think that I ever could again, but that assumes that you can forgive me and that we stay together.”

James nodded;

“Let’s try. I still love you.”

“I love you.”

—

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The sound of the stream was soothing, almost hypnotic, as he lay awake in the room above the millrace. The moon was shining through the window; having wanted the moonlight he had not drawn the curtains. For years he had dreamt of this, to have a quiet secluded place, away from street lights and roads and signs of man, or modern man at least.

He had fallen in love with the house, a converted water mill, the moment he had stepped out of the car on that first visit to look at the property. There was something wonderful about having one’s own stream, and once he realised that it actually ran underneath the house he knew that he had to buy it.

Elsa would have loved it too, he reflected. She had loved the sound of running water. Suddenly he could imagine her there, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking into his eyes, naked in the moonlight. She had always loved the moonlight. Whenever the opportunity had arisen to moonbathe, as she called it, she had taken incredible delight in lying naked the shafts of moonbeams.

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James looked at her again, hoping to see just the flicker of recognition in her eyes. There was a whole room of people between them and it was at least a year since they had last spoken, but he could not help but hope that she would want to break that record. She made eye contact with him for just a moment and then turned away to talk to the older man standing next to her; a moment later she flashed James a look that said quite unequivocally “stay away from me”.

He still did not know what he had done, or more to the point he did not know why he was in the doghouse with her; all that he had done was be straight with her about his feelings. Sure there are those who might say that her attachment to his cousin made those feelings inappropriate, but he had thought she would be able to see that he knew that feeling a certain way for her did not mean that he expected anything of her. Clearly he was wrong; he had never seen her so angry as that night when he had told her.

Why was this his fate? To him it seemed cruel.

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Once more I am awake in the dark of the night. Since the cities fell I have found it hard to sleep. None of us know when or if the fighting will find its way out into the countryside, but the lack of gun ownership, even out here, has got people worried. Some are saying that it is only a matter of time until they start to move out looking for survivors and food, others that they are going to assume everyone died, that the fallout simply laid waste to the land. I am not sure either way, but here I sit, unable to sleep, watching out into the dark, looking for lights moving towards us. They are clearly good at what they are doing, there is no way that they would announce their coming, so why do I sit here, night after night.

Long ago I had hated that I lived so far away from the bright lights, the theatres and the galleries. The problem with country living was always being left with just the local am-drams and a mobile library. Now that isolation is the reason I am alive, that my family is alive. I need to sleep.

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This does not yet appear on ficlets.com due to a technical problem with that site and its OpenID login, i.e. I can’t get on the site, logged in.

This Ficlet was partly inspired by a suggestion / thought from Kt, but I am not sure that I have really done what she suggested, I already had a crack at it two days ago, this is an alternative approach.

The teaspoon was smooth under his fingertip, as he idly ran it around the bowl and up and down the shaft. His eyes were glazed over, not even seeing into the distance that he was staring towards, out of the window.

“Dammit Roger, say something!”

He shook his head, trying to dismiss the fog in his head. As far as he was concerned her words were still hanging over her head, like a speech bubble;

‘It’s over, Roger. I’m leaving you.’

How was this the right time to do this? They were in Clacton, of all places. Why on earth had David decided to get married in Clacton? Why was she doing this to him now? He knew it had been bad for a while, he had thought about leaving her too, but he would never have done it like this; they were sharing a room, a bed for God’s sake!

“What do you want me to say, Darcy? I know it’s been bad, but I still want to make this work. Besides what are you going to do if you go through with this right here, right now? We’re away from home, we are sharing a hotel room that has only one bed. Tomorrow we are supposed to be going to my brother’s wedding; I’m the best man for crying out loud!”

He did not want to, or mean to, but he burst into tears;

“Why, Darcy? Why now?”

Her face did not even flinch. She stood up, shook her head and walked away.

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This Ficlet was inspired by Spangle Kitten’s suggestions of a spoon, Clacton and breaking up with a long-term partner as item, place and activity from the Wednesday poll on my Livejournal.

I don’t know what to think. Mam says that being fired is what life is like; you get to liking something and then some other bugger takes it away from you. She were tryin’ to make us feel better, but thing is it din’t.

I know I ain’t smart, smart is our kid’s thing. Dunno where she gets it from, but there’s never any time t’ask ‘er when she breezes in for’t weekend from fancy London. Still I liked bein’ a plumber’s mate. Felt good to do sommat wi’ mi hands, pisses me off that teachers were right. There’s bloody maths in everythin’. Tom said it were n’owt personal, but he can’t afford the waste I’ve caused or some shit like that. I din’t mean to blow the pipe. ‘E says that copper is too costly to make ready and shape more than’t job needs.

I s’pose I can go back behind’t bar at’Bull, but Mam’s right, there’s n’ future in sellin’ scoops t’ drunks older’n Dad. S’not like I mean t’ judge, man’s got a right to a drink, but I’ll ne’er ger’out of ‘ere if all I am is a barman. For now, time for ‘nother beer I think.

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This was written yesterday, but does not yet appear on ficlets.com due to a technical problem with that site and its OpenID login, i.e. I can’t get on the site, logged in.

This Ficlet was partly inspired by a suggestion / thought from Kt, but I am not sure that I have really done what she suggested…

Edgar was standing against the skyline, binoculars to his eyes when Christine got near to the top of the ridge. She could see the smoke snaking into the sky, and the heat was palpable.

“Fire’s movin’ away. The wind’s blowin’ to the South West. We’ll be fine if we hold tight here. ‘S gonna be a few days, but we have plenty of food besides. It’ll be fine.”

She let her shoulders relax and breathed a sigh of relief. She climbed the last few steps to stand by her uncle and then she saw the horror of it all. Away below them she knew that the trees were roughly one hundred and twenty feet tall and she could see flames that had to be another thirty feet above the trees. If it were not for the wind blowing away the thick black smoke the sky would have been black, but as it was there was an almost completely blue sky for as far as she could see to the north and east.

Edgar was right, the wind was moving the fire away from them, but winds could change. She had no idea how they could escape if it came back their way.

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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 front page of Wikipedia for the 8th of September 2008, in English. The Featured Article was about the 1988 Yellowstone Fires; you can fond out more here.

I looked again, trying to see something that in my heart I knew I would never see again. There is no way to describe the moment when you cannot be sure that the person you love is lying dead in front of you; just on the other side of a window, and just for a moment you cannot quite tell if it really is them. There is no spark there, no humanity left, all that is there is flesh and bone, no life at all.

Dwight had just popped out to meet an old friend from university at a bar, there had been nothing special about his plans. We had both gone out for similarly unremarkable evenings without one another. That is what couples do sometimes, no one can spend all of their time with another person.

As I stared at his body lying there, my hand cold against the glass, all I could think was that he might still have been alive if just that one time I had been a little more clingy, a little more needy and even a little jealous and had imposed my presence on the proceedings. I knew it and I could not forgive myself at all.

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