Category: Uncategorized (Page 38 of 44)

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.

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“I don’t know what to say, Sara. I really don’t.”

She tried to smile through her tears as she moved her head to the sound of my voice. I was struck by how odd it was to see her cry; I had not seen her cry since the accident, and her closed eyes with tears seemed somehow unnatural to me.

“I know that you are suffering Ethan, I know you are hiding things from me and I cannot bear that there is this wall between us. You know that I don’t blame you for anything, but since I left the hospital it’s as though you can’t bear to touch me. When you do kiss me, or hold me I can feel your reticence and when I’ve tried to initiate anything more you back away from me. I can’t bear that you are still here because you feel guilty; just go!”

I want so very much to be able to say that my heart broke in that moment, but I felt it lift; as though all of my guilt left me and I was free again. Not my guilt for taking her sight, but the guilt that was holding me to her.

I kissed her forehead, picked up my keys and left.

“Bye.”

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Llewellyn smiled as he felt the power surge through his arms. He had spent days preparing for this, researching the proper ritual details – the symbols, the candles, the tokens. It had been rewarding, but now there was a real understanding for him that he could hold power in his hands. There were no cold flames of blue energy, or crackles of electrical discharge like in the movies, but he could feel the ebb and flow of real power as he flexed his arms.

He stepped towards the small dais and placed his hands on the medallion, formed in the shape of a simple etched pentacle on a disc of pure silver.

“Invicta tempestatis, in petram audacia!”

As he spoke the words he tried to force the power that he felt coursing through him out of his hands and into the medallion. It seemed to him that is was working. There was a sensation, it felt at its strongest in his forearms, which reminded him of the feeling of bleeding, but much stronger.

In the end the feeling dissipated and he stepped back, he relaxed; it was done.

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Allanah adjusted the hem of her skirt and tried not to look shifty as she cast her eyes about the waiting room. The thought was already at the forefront of her mind “I don’t belong here”. No matter how much Peter had tried to talk up her confidence, no matter how much he had reminded her that she had earned the chance to be there she was still a prisoner of everything that she had been told by everyone else.

GLUG , GLUG, GLUG

She started at the sound, jumped right out of her skin, and then her face flushed as she realised that there was someone standing at the water cooler. He was a good looking devil; six foot or so, athletic, sharp suit. As he walked past her she caught his cologne and she could not help but look up at him to try and see his face. He must have sensed her interest, because he turned back just enough to make eye contact with her. Her heart skipped a beat as she fell into his almond shaped grey eyes, and for just a moment she forgot about Peter, and then the stranger was around the corner.

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Felix crouched down by the tree, aware of the fact that if the rain started to come down any harder he would not be safe from it even there. It was not so much that he was bothered about receiving a good drenching at the hands of random chance and more that he was far from home with his camera and no waterproof bag to protect it from this unforseen, heavy shower.

Left and right, across the park, he could see people running for shelter, bags and newspapers held over their heads, and then he saw her and the rest of the world fell away.

Felix had always loved Serena. From when they were four years old, playing in the sandpit in her garden, to her being his date for his leavers’ ball after A-Levels and onward. Even after she had left him for the dreaded Jonas, he had still loved her. He had not expected to see her on this trip to see his folks, he did not even know that she was back in Marlow. He watched her, enchanted that as others dashed to ‘safety’ she pranced gaily through the rain, playing with her hair.

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Olivia was still unsure of herself as she perched in the corner of the room, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. She had been trying to get into this party for about four months and now that she was here she was suddenly aware of the gulf between fantasy and reality. She checked that the green armband was visible, announcing to anyone who looked that she was present as a voyeur, only to be invited to join in by being asked specifically to watch; never to be touched. She also felt in her pocket for the red one she had been given in case she changed her mind.

Just to her right there was a staggeringly beautiful woman perched on the edge of a table, naked, with her feet on the shoulders of the woman who was eating her out, still fully dressed and dressed as a man. Olivia watched, mesmerised by the woman’s beautiful breasts as they rose and fell irregularly with her gasping breaths as she approached orgasm, her head thrown back and her long raven black hair sweeping back and forth on the polished table top.

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George rested the mop against his brow and fought back his gag reflex. It was, and always had been, his worst fear that one day he would be forced to do a job that had bad smells attached to it. Now, here he was, cleaning the toilets in a school and wishing that the children who attended were not such animals. Why did they feel the need to block the toilets, piss on the floors, smoke and vomit and whatever else they got up to in here? Surely the majority of them were horrified by the state of the first floor toilets for both genders when they came to use them?

In most cases the majority would and did make sure that the minority were aptly punished for standing out. Goth kids were beaten for being ‘spooky’, sporting failures were ridiculed for not being able to catch a ball. Why was it that the ones with no respect for their private spaces, who created this stink and mess, were not equally punished? George certainly knew what he wanted to do to them, but he also wanted to keep his job, even with the smell.

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Ferdie wondered if he was ever going to look at anything more than a blank screen. It was three weeks since he had written anything and his editor was starting to get really quite aggressive in his demands for material. Ferdie was not sure that it was okay for anyone to threaten to remove each of one’s fingernails with pliers if you did not deliver a blog article.

He had tried everything; drinking, getting high, sitting outside in the dark looking down on the lights of the city, smoking cigarettes and driving around the Venice streets looking for people that he used to know… Anything to find some inspiration, but nothing was working, and there was nothing there every time when he did one of these things and then reached in to try and find some inspiration.

There was nothing that had not already been said, nothing to believe in any more and it had been this way for almost exactly three and a half weeks. Why was this? Anyone could have guessed that it was because Vicky had left, but he could not see it.

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I wanted to buy Sara a present; that was made me understand what had really changed. It was a week before our fourth anniversary and a month before we were still due to marry. I was in town alone and I decided that I would buy her something for our anniversary. I knew that no gift was going to make it better, but I wanted to signify to her that I was thinking of her; thinking of her more than I thought she knew.

I wandered around her favourite stores, looking for something that would make her smile, that would let her know that I had thought about what she liked, who she was and then I had found the perfect gift. That was the problem though; I was looking, and she could not do that anymore. After about an hour it dawned on me, and crazy as it may sound, I think it was then that I really understood for the first time that she was blind. I could not buy her a beautiful painting or exquisite jewellery, things that would once have captivated her with the way they looked. Now that was only cruel, not thoughtful.

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Frank sat back and stared up at the fireworks exploding over the Potomac, the strains of patriotic music on the edge of what he could hear from the District.

There was something odd about being an Englishman on the Fourth of July; the defeated enemy watching the fete of his defeat. He had not received anything but welcoming and friendly overtures from his American hosts, but even so none of them had missed the chance to point out that he was witnessing the celebration of his nation’s own Waterloo.

There was really nothing like this at home. There was Saint George’s Day, which usually passed without mention apart from on conservative talk radio – a much less powerful force in the United Kingdom than he had found it to be in the US. There was the Last Night of the Proms, but that was not really even close to comparable. Having not been invaded for nearly a thousand years there was no great opressor’s downfall to cherish, no great uprising to remember. England was a rock, an island, and he liked Her that way.

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