Category: Uncategorized (Page 35 of 44)

The bombs are falling again, and so I dare not go outside. I ventured out a little while ago and all I could see along the road were bodies and abandoned cars, luggage and so forth. I don’t understand why they had to bomb the roads going in and out of Gori, there were only normal people on those roads, trying to flee the fighting. Did the damn Russians really think that Georgian loyalists were going to poke their heads out of their holes once the word came down that the Russians were coming. The people that they shelled and bombed were the people they claim that they are coming to liberate; people who had seen enough civil war to know that there would be no safety even if they cheered their liberators into town.

I have enough food and water now to last over a week, so I will lie here in the dark, with enough fuel for the lantern to eat and perhaps read a little when I can stand the boredom no longer. I do not even care who runs things. Georgians, Russians, they are all the same; they just want to fight.

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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 item on the English front page of Wikipedia today (11th of August 2008) outlining that the Georgian Government has approved a State of War for the next fifteen days, in response to the Russian invasion in the disagreement ove rthe sovereignty of South Ossetia.

“There is no question in my mind that he has been using drugs, and using them for at least the last three months.”

No one looked shocked as this pronouncement was made. In fact the cold acceptance of this statement made his point for him – everyone had known that Cory had been taking drugs for some time, they had simply been unwilling to tell anyone in authority about it.

“Moreover, I am pretty certain that some of you have been taking drugs with Cory. It is important to note that in this one and only instance there will be no repercussions for anyone who comes forward. In fact we are asking those of you who have perhaps been experimenting with Cory so that we can make sure that you are not at risk from whatever is wrong with Cory.”

There was an amount of uncomfortable shifting in seats and murmurs as the other kids started to react to John’s speech. As per his request I was watching to see which kids or groups of kids looked less shocked, more resigned as they heard about the amnesty that was on offer.

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

When she sat down in front of me I noted that she was shocked by the beard, but more than that I was pleased that she could see it at all. I had ordered the wine, and I was hoping that she would recognise that I had remembered her favourite Riesling, when she got right down to it;

“Why did you call me?”

This was not the opening gambit I had been expecting. Obviously I was not quite so crass as to want to hear her say “It’s nice to see you”, but I was hoping her reaction to be less confrontational, more pleased perhaps. I was a little lost for words, and Sara could see that.

“I’m serious, why did you want to see me after three years? Did you think I was going to be keen to reconcile? Were you just lonely? I don’t have a lot of time, so can we just get this over with?”

I was starting to wonder how I could answer any of these questions without sounding like an idiot. It was true that I had heard that her sight was back, and it was true that I wanted her back; now it was clear that she did not want me at all.

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

She stood at the top of the path leading down to our door, hands clasped together in front of her, looking up at the new moon, which shone from the dark purple, summer night sky like a sliver of silver.

“Ich gruße dich, das neues licht…”

She spoke the rhyme too quietly for me to hear and anyway my German was not good enough to follow along after the first sentence. I had seen her do this many times before; each time I was fascinated by her ability to remember to observe this tradition. I knew, because she had told me, that it was something she had done with her mother since being a little girl and it was important to her because it made her feel close, while she was so far away.

I waited quietly for her to finish greeting the moon, and tried so very hard to burn the image of her standing there into my mind; to always remember her in this simple, innocent, beautiful way. She finished the rhyme and then turned to walk to me, a little smile on her face.

In that moment I knew that I would always love 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 following image:

Photo by swh (on Flickr)

“This is not a time for us anymore, little one; we must withdraw.”

The child shook her head and looked for all the world as though she was about to stamp her foot as well.

“Shan’t. My place is here, and nothing is going to make me give that up.”

Her face was a picture of purpose and assertiveness as she answered her elder companion. He smiled, benificently, and shook his head making his soft, grey mane seem more like a cascade of water than hair. The child continued to stare back at him, her arms crossed across her chest and her mouth pursed in an immature attempt at a stony face.

“Little one, the church has established itself here to the exclusion of our kind. If we withdraw back into the Summer Kingdom we will be safe, but if we stay here the Christians will drive us mad with their bells and hymns and prayers. Their practices are anathema to our kind; you know this.”

Her face softened a little, turning from anger to fear, and then hardened again;

“Then we must fight them uncle, we owe the woods that.”

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

She let out a soft moan as he spared her any more teasing and parted her lips with his tongue. Her taste was like heaven to him and from the way she started to gently but urgently thrust her pelvis towards his mouth he was fairly sure that she was getting something out of the bargain as well.

He slowly eased the tip of his tongue between the folds of her quim, making languorous circles from her clit to the edge of her vagina. Her sex began to open up to him, and she became wetter, her body giving him cues that she herself was too pre-occupied to give. He slid his tongue back up and then closed his mouth around her little bud, gently sucking it into his mouth and playing his tongue across it.

Her hands slid into his hair at the back of his head, pulling him into her body, and the thrusting of her pelvis from before became more urgent, her breath now in halting gasps and moans.

He felt the small spasms in her thighs and then his mouth was flooded with her juice as she came and came pushing his head into her.

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

He had been watching her for some time, not entirely comfortable even in himself that he was observing her, even if she was a waitress and therefore out in public to all intents and purposes.

He liked the way that she chatted to everyone, as if they were actually important to her, and he loved her style; the piercings and her amazing tattoos, the ones that he could see anyway. He had been taking breakfast in the same place for over a month in order to see her and still he had not found the courage to talk to her beyond a ‘good morning’ or ‘it’s nice out, huh?’ and of course to give her his order or ask for the check.

He knew what was holding him back, and it was not the obvious. It was just that he felt like it was somewhat tacky to hit on waitresses; they must put up with that shit all of the time, and no matter how nicely he put it she was going to be immediately on her guard. He had thought about trying to strike up a conversation with her about where she liked to go out, but that was obvious too…

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

“I was the one that they never knew about, you know?”

The old man who had crept up on me made me start right out of my skin when he spoke. I turned to look at him and was surprised to find a very old man indeed, perhaps in his nineties, but still stood very straight, not stooped with age. He was dressed to the nines in the fifties style, a deep grey suit with a fine pinstripe and a sombre charcoal fedora on his head; simple yet stylish sunglasses hiding his eyes.

“I’m sorry, who never knew what about you? In fact who are you?”

He flashed me a wicked smile from under the brim of his hat and handed me his card:

John de Lancey – Private Security

There was no number or address, but at the time I paid it no mind.

“Kid, I was the one who was in her heart when the G-men came down on her and left her looking like she’d done herself in. I found her, and had to make like I was just shocked, not plunged into despair as I was.”

I looked back at the inscription and then back at him;

“You and Marilyn?”

He nodded.

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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 item on the English Wikipedia front page today (4th August, 2008) remembering the death of Marilyn Monroe. Of course that anniversary is the 5th of August, but because I am in San Francisco it is still the 4th for me, but my laptop is set to British Summer Time and so got the page for the 5th – extra cool weirdness ftw! 🙂

The morning was cold as she stepped out of the apartment door, her silent little companion shivered a little on the end of his leash, his feet touching the street for the first time.

The sun was only just coming up as she set out towards 24th, the morning walk’s payoff in her mind’s eye; a Turkish from Philz. With her hood up and her eyes down, she passed by ‘outdoor sofas’ and locked gateways until she cut east to walk past the elementary school with its incredible murals. The Mission was still showing her new beauty in the form of its distinctive street art; the Mexican Mural style.

Her companion was dragging behind, as he always did, checking every tree, hydrant and newspaper machine to see if he should pee there or save himself for a more important waypoint in the local canine equivalent of GPS .

There on the corner of Folsom and 24th was the reason to make this early morning odyssey; the finest coffee in San Francisco, and perhaps the world.

“Morning.”

“Hi, can I get a Turkish with cream, please?”

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

She looked over her shoulder from the kitchen, trying to catch his eye as she mixed the drinks. She wanted him to be watching her, she wanted to feel his gaze upon her, but he was playing it far too cool, flicking through the book she had left casually on the table.

She smiled to herself, and turned her attention back to the drinks while trying to work out how he would react to a book of erotic photographs on her coffee table. Would he assume that she was liberated, or wonder if she was an artist of some kind. They had only just met; there was still ample room for assumption and bias to play a role in the end of the evening. Perhaps he would simply be turned on by the pictures or better still he might be turned on by the idea that she found them arousing.

She turned back to the living room, the drinks in her hands, and could not resist trying to sneak a look between his legs to see if the book was doing its work.

He caught her eye and smiled, laying the book aside so that she had a clear view; she smiled.

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