Saturday, 28 May 2016

Wiz Bang Love!

Chuck's prompt this week is interestingly hard... I had to think about it. 'It starts with a Bang!' There's so many different types, styles and ways a Bang happens... and this is my interpretation of it.

Our fingers touched as we sat on the lounge the Sports Channel showed the boxing and I noticed one of them was a leftie, saying he’d win… and BANG!... the emotions, the feelings we’ve had for each other over the last decade – since the last we dated (tried to date) came rushing back like a tidal wave.

It was intense… 

...we could feel it fill the huge living room as our shoulders moved toward each other and our palms pressed hard… 

...the warmth of his hand in mine – wonderful it finally felt to know he likes being this close to me.
His brown eyes connected with mine and he smiled, “Hey…”
“Hey you…” I smiled back leaning my forehead against his, his right hand touching my cheek softly, gently… oh… I’ll never forget that first caress of this man I’ve admired from afar and yet didn’t have the courage to approach – to tell him I really, totally, absolutely…

He tipped my chin up with his fingertips and…

We were out of breath…

Our emotions finally being realised about each other… our unrequited love…

The boxing had finished and there was a fishing show on. The left-handed boxer had won all four rounds; just like I said he would. But the Sports Channel is just a noise in the background as we…

… stare at each other on the lounge… holding each other close, not wanting this moment – this day, this afternoon – to finish.

My phone rang. I ignored its distant annoying Queen song (‘It’s A Kinda Magic’) in my bag right next to me… as the world of his living room and his rental house vanished and our little universe that was us – the one that began with a BIG BANG of its very own – was all that existed… for now. He watched me as my phone dinged that a text came through (which I ignored as well), “We’ve known each other for how long?”
I smiled, “Over a decade.”
He smiled too, as though what I did was contagious, “Yeah, and whenever we tried to get together… it was never the right time.” We untangled ourselves from each other and he played with my hands – my nails being a fascination to him as he glanced over, “Oh, fuck it, let’s date. If we wait too long…”
I smiled, “…we’ll be two old farts in a nursing home not knowing who’s who and wishing we’d done this sooner when we do know each other.”
He laughed kissing my right hand, “Yeah!”

The sun was bright when he finally walked me to my car… yes, mid-afternoon.

I had arrived in the morning…

I had opened the car door, tossed my jacket and handbag into the passenger side and pushed the keys into the ignition, then turned to see him smiling, “What?”
“Nothin’.” He pulled me close, kissed me gently, softly again, “You’re beautiful.”
I didn’t know what to say, so said nothing except pulled him closer, “You’re handsome.”
“Oh come on…”
I looked up at him, “I mean it.”
He smiled again, leaned down and kissed me more.

Wiz Bang! I’m in love! 

Friday, 20 May 2016

Draku's Bloodline

Chuck's little boy is turning 5... and so he's chosen some things his kid has said to get us to use in our stories. Man, his boy has some weird things to say... but I like them. I chose: 'They said it was legend, but I know it's real.


I made sure the heat lamp wasn’t too hot on the shell as I pulled the curtain to my bedroom window and curled up next to the large egg on my bed.
Sleeping has been difficult over the past month because I’ve been sharing my bedroom with a large egg.

It’s not mine – as if a Human can lay an egg! I found it a few streets away and brought it home and tried to find out exactly what it was.

From all my sources and research through my books, it’s a Fire Drake egg.

They said it was legend, but I know it’s real.

‘They’ are anyone I’ve tried to tell – and yes, this includes you as you’re sitting there trying to figure out if I’m out of my mind or smoking too much weed (and by the way, I don’t smoke that crap).
I’m also trying to hide this puppy from anyone who wants to get their hands on it – ie: the Government – because all they’re going to do is experiment on the thing before it hatches. And once it does, they’ll end up killing it then chopping it up into itty-bitty pieces to see where it came from.
I don’t want that… and I’m sure you don’t either.
I’m writing this as a document to prove that we have other life on this planet besides the self-centered idiots called Humans. We have life here nobody can comprehend. We have life here which has been here well before us – and will be here well after we’re gone. We’ll have …

He’s not very big – about the size of a small computer monitor – but truthfully, I don’t know what breed he is. I do have books on Fire Drakes and am not sure what size he’s going to grow to.
As soon as he hatched the other night, he saw me and called me ‘Mamau’ which is Welsh for Mother. At least I know what region he’s from. I started teaching him English so he knew what I was saying and he could tell me what he wanted.

It’s been two weeks of intensive training and work with Draku. He’s been working well with me, but I have had to move us out into the countryside so he could learn to fly without running into other buildings. This means, I have to drive my van – and this terrified him at first. But then, when I found a place where there was a good cave for him, he was okay with me hanging around. He totally enjoyed learning from me and loved being with me. I was his Mother, his teacher, his everything – for now.
I know there will be a time when he’ll fly away for the day and not come back that night… when he’ll just keep flying to find somebody like himself to mate with. But truthfully, I don’t know if there is another like him in the world; and this is the problem.

Draku has been missing for almost a week.
I’m worried somebody has caught him… I hope not.
I’ll stick around camp and see how I go.
The sun is going down and I’ve just lit the fire again … I hear wings!
But Draku isn’t alone! I hear cars… choppers… other humans! They’re yahooing and screaming…
“Oh shit!” I pull out my firearms and arm myself as quickly as possible, but Draku has pulled up in front of the camp with his back to me. His wings are flare open, showing their gorgeous purple skin stretched across their huge arms like bat skin. He pulls in a lungful of cold night air and bellows out bright fire from his mouth and nose, burning to the ground the people who were invading on our camp grounds. As he raised his head up, to shoot a snort of flame at the chopper, a shot rings out!
I race out into the darkness, climbing the rocks and boulders which reflected the fire I had built to keep me warm tonight, only to have to watch my Fire Drake collapse.
His aim was impeccable! He had gotten the chopper after they shot at him, but…
I jumped down to his large form… yes my Draku had grown so much over the last month or so I hadn’t noticed that he was no long tiny – not until now.
“Draku.” I clambered over his beautiful form, him on his side breathing shallow breaths as I searched for where he had been hit… and when I found where his violet blood was oozing out faster than it should, tears pricked my eyes, blurring my vision, “No.” my voice cracked, “Not my baby boy…”
“Mamau… you love Draku much.”
“Yes. I love you.”
“Let me go.”
“I brought you out here to let you fly…”
“Too many here to be truly free.” He said.
I applied pressure on his fatal wound and he groaned as his gorgeous iridescent eyes filled with tears and his free wing wrapped around my shoulders gently, “No, leave me, Mamau.”
With his blood colouring my hands, I tried to not cry in front of my sweet boy… my Fire Drake, “What do I do with you?”
“Burn… me…” His eyes glistened, “First, drink my blood. Will keep me within you forever.”

I will never forget my Draku.
His kind is gone but not dead.
People think Fire Drakes are of legend, but I know they are real.
I have Draku’s blood running through my veins… thus I will never age, I will no longer have any medical problems and my blood is no longer red… my blood runs purple just like Draku’s.

Draku accepted me as his own; and now I must find others like me – but that’s if there are others who have survived like him.

Friday, 13 May 2016

My Bloody Valentine

This week, Chuck has us clicking on a link where it gives us a his and hers option and whacks it together! A great thing! I love that! I got: 'He's a lonely Opera Singer who believes he can never love again... She's a devious Barbarian with the fear of the uknown.' And well, this is what I came up with. The theatre stuff, well, I used to work in a local theatre near my house... and like most theatres, The Butterbox Theatre is haunted.


Charles was depressed. He knew he was while he brushed on the translucent powder over his face to prevent him from sweating under the hot lights of the theatre.
A knock sounded at the door: “Two minutes!”
“Yep!” he called back. She had broken – shattered – his heart and he knew he’d never find love again. And yet, he had to work with her on the stage for the next three months.

The bitch!

Charles rose from his mirror, pulled the paper from around his collar and switched off the lights. It was time to get his ass to the Stage Manager’s side – where he was first to walk onto the stage to begin his singing.

Charles Montgomery was an Opera Singer.

As soon as he stepped out onto that stage, with the people surrounding him… the music rising up from the pit in front of him as though from the dungeons of Hell itself, conducted by Lucifer himself… as the little man at the dais stood just in front of the audience demanding his orchestra to pay attention and to keep up, work their asses off and play their best every single night… and he turned to Bethany herself as he held her fingertips gently in his hand as they had rehearsed so many times and they sang! Oh, they sang with such harmony – in harmony – that the audience who sat enthralled every night wouldn’t know that they despised each other in real life.
She had cheated on him with one of the extras within weeks of the tour of Australia and then, once they left Melbourne (which was a three month tour there), and his Sydney, Bethany had moved onto another ‘dude’ as though nothing really mattered to her – as though the two year relationship they had shared meant …
Charles was going to propose to Bethany at the closing night in New York City at the after-party. She didn’t know this – but he had planned it and everything.

The slut!

Act Three was almost finished and they stood side by side, not touching each other. He despised being in her presence, and wished she had been sacked for being such a whore; but beggers can’t be choosers. The make-up woman came up and checked his face to make sure he hadn’t removed any of it from scratching his nose or forehead, then his hair was checked as well just as the doors were closed and the lights in the house were turned down for them to start.
At the last minute, the props guy came around, “Charles, I found another dagger online. It’s better-looking than the plastic one you’ve been using.”
“Okay.” He said swapping over the crappy-looking dagger for the gorgeously jeweled one, “Thanks Harry.”
As the music began, they stepped out into the light and began to sing. It was then, he saw her… the most beautiful woman he’d laid eyes on since Bethany. She sat in the middle of the third row. She was dressed so differently from everyone else and watched every single thing he did – which was the biggest turn-on for him.

By Act Four, Charles’ and Bethany played their parts right through to the bitter ending; where his character stabs Bethany’s and she staggers off the stage. As soon as she’s gone, the curtain falls as the music crescendos and a scream cuts the air.
This happens but … the scream seems a little too real and Charles turned to stage left to see Bethany fall as she spat out blood holding her stomach.
“Oh my god.” He said loud enough that Lucifer heard it.
“What?” he whispered up to him, but it’s too late as Charles raced off the stage before the curtain falls – before the creation of the what was supposed to happen did.
Security surrounded Bethany and pushed him off to one side as he watched her face and witness the one thing he had hoped he would never hope he’d ever see: the light of somebody’s life leave their eyes. Before long, his agent grabbed him, walking him to his dressing room, closing the door against anyone of the media.
As they turn around, the woman from the third row is in there, “I noticed you.”
“You’re not supposed to be in here.” His agent said, “Get out.”
“Charles Montgomery? Your dagger from the other performances was replaced just before this one, wasn’t it?” she said.
He looked up, “Yes.”
She looked around his room, “Normally, they’d return props to the dressing rooms when they swap them over, but the old dagger wasn’t returned here.”
His agent looked around quickly, “Well, Harry takes care of the props. If he thought it was right to replace it, he would have taken the old one back to storage.”
“But tonight is the last night for Sydney… it would have come back to my room to be packed away with my costume.” Charles said, “Which means that Harry either gave me a stage dagger which was faulty or he gave me a … oh… god… a real dagger.”
She sat in his chair at the dressing table, “We must find the other dagger to prove you’re innocent.”
His agent looked over at her, “She was asking for it… she was being a whore.”
“Don’t say that about her. Bethany was hurting… but we had to work together; and that’s something.” Charles said, “She broke my heart, and I’m still honouring my contract.”
“I guess.” He shrugged, “The police still have to talk to you.”

Dawn was breaking when the police had been and gone – after they talked to everyone. The woman stood there outside the stage door waiting for Charles, not knowing whether to stick around or to delve into the unknown world of the heart. She almost turned to leave when the door opened and Charles stepped out into the early morning coolness and looked at her.
“Hi.” She blushed, “I don’t know why I’m here. I’m terrified of commitment, of the unknown of what might be.”
“And yet, I think the knife was yours to begin with.” He walked to her.
“How did you know?”
He gestured to her calf scabbard, “You’re missing some equipment.”
Looking down, she shrugged, “How do you know I didn’t sell it?”
“But you did… online to Harry.”
She smiled, “I’m Bethany’s cousin… never liked her. And our clan had a mark on her for the last few years. It’s taken three of us to track her and I made sure to get the right knife to kill her.” She looked to her hands, “But now my work is done, there’s no future for me… not unless I make one – which is kind of scary.”

He put out his hand, “Let’s make a future together. I never thought I’d find another like Bethany in my life – and you’re scared to take a leap into the unknown magic of life itself.” He smiled, “I think we can help each other.” The door of the taxi opened that had been waiting for Charles and he let her in first. They knew they were just at the beginning; of what? Well, neither of them knew just yet.

Saturday, 7 May 2016

Star-Crossed Lovers

Okay, I chose this picture and thought to run with it. I might get some big comments about how I approached this. However, I'm only going on personal experience and so, if you think I'm being too hard on how Islamic women are being treated, that's okay. But I've lived with families of them in a townhouse complex and they were treated horribly by their husbands. But, as they say, this is just one experience from one person.

“Seriously, man, do you think she’s pretty?” Pete shoved his shoulder, “She’s wearing one of those cloth thingies on her head – she’s not like us.”
Rick took the shove with a smirk as he looked to his hands, rubbed his heavily tattooed arms and back up at the young woman walking around with the clipboard, “Yeah, she’s …” pretty, really pretty. He liked like her a lot, “nice.”
Pete could see past his small comment of ‘nice’ and knew straight off that his best friend had the hots for the Muslim chick, “Dude, she’s probably married or somethin’… besides, she wouldn’t be allowed near you because you’re Catholic and she’s… well, look at her!”

She turned and looked over at the group of men she had to approach about building a mosque in the area. They looked tough and horrible. But there was one who just looked at her who appeared tough, but he was… different… somehow. His friend just shoved him, laughing at him. He looked down at his hands and rubbed his tattooed arms, blushing.

He liked her.

This was going to be a problem if she showed that she liked him too.
“Are you okay, Akira?” her sister, Melia, asked at her shoulder, “My husband can come and pick you up if you are tired. You know he likes being around you.”
“No. I’m okay.” She smiled, “I will talk to those men over there. We are supposed to be okay with the Westerners.” She turned and walked toward the man who was being bullied by his friend and they left him alone. Besides, she didn’t like Melia’s husband; he was always trying to touch her and feel in personal places when her sister wasn’t around.
“Hi.” The man smiled, “What’s that you got?”
“Hello. My name is Akira…” she talked about the mosque and how it would benefit the area and how big it would be. He listened to her watching her face, smiling as she pointed out something on the clipboard, but not really taking any notice. Her hands were lovely and young, pretty, just like she was.
“I’m Rick – Richard. Would you like to have a meal with me?” he asked.
Akira hesitate, blushing, “I … um… may not be allowed to. You are Westerner, I am Islam.”
“We are two people. I like you, doesn’t matter what either of us look like.” He said standing from where she found him on the concrete block at the park, “Are you allowed to have something to eat?” he held out his arm, “There’s a café over the road which is owned by a Lebanese family… they serve great food there.” He smiled and she felt her heart race, “I’ll be there in an hour.”

He sat by the window after a shower and a change of clothes. He left the scarf at home and wore his best clothes. When he arrived, Lenny gave him a coffee – the best around, it was hot, so strong you could stand your spoon up in it – and Rick loved this place. It was the food, the atmosphere and the small lot of shelves along the side which held just about anything to do with that part of the world he’d never been to; and yet, the aroma of the spices and food hung in the air like cigar smoke.
Akira rushed inside with her sister and stood at the counter, ordered something in Islamic and hesitated as she stood at the table he was at. He rose to his feet as she approached, something his father had told him to do when a woman approached the table, to pull out her chair, but she sat quickly and he almost didn’t get a chance to do it, “I should not be here. If I am discovered socialising with you in a familiar way, I do not wish to know what will happen to me.”
Rick sighed, “Wow. I didn’t know the rules were so strict.”
“I have an arranged marriage… and even though I think you are… quite handsome in your own way… we can never be together; not in the way you wish.” She shook her head as her eyes traveled to his tattoos, which peaked from under the sleeves at his wrists.
Taking a risk, he reached across and touched her hand. It was so soft, so beautiful to touch, “I just wanted to have a meal with you. I wanted to see what kind of person you are, without your family around you – the real you.” He rubbed his thumb along the knuckles of her left hand, “Is that so bad – for me to want you like that?”
His hand was warm. She was surprised to find how nice it was to be touched by a man who didn’t want anything but friendship – and by a Westerner of all people. She looked up at him, “It seems what I have been told of Westerners is wrong. Not all of you are bad, or racists, or horrible people.” She covered his hand with her other hand, “I would like to be around you more, Richard, but … no, I am not allowed to.”
Suddenly, Melia rose from the next table and walked to the shelves and began picking up items. She had seen somebody approach from outside. Akira stood, racing to her sister’s side, “What?”
“My husband is demanding to know why we are taking so long.” Melia said, “I told him I was doing some shopping. But he is coming… I must have something to show him.” She turned and looked at Richard, “Get rid of him.”
“Akira.” Richard stood nearby, with a shopping bag in his hands, “Here, I thought you might be caught and had Lenny put aside some items for you and your sister.”
Melia grabbed the bag off Richard, “Time to go, Akira.” She rushed to the door and waited for her sister.
“I’m so sorry.” She said.
“I’ll be okay.” He smiled.
Turning she walked to the door, stopped and looked at Richard. She needed to know something – it was something she had always wanted to know about them. Rushing up to him she stood on her toes and kissed him as he leaned down. He was careful not to take off her scarf – wishing he knew what her hair felt like – and kissed her back, holding her close. Before he knew it, Richard was alone in the café with the scent of her perfume haunting his senses and her scarf in his hands.

She was gone; and he knew she’d never see her again.

Akira pulled another scarf – the same colour – from her bag and wrapped it around her head on the way home. Her sister was nagging at her, “How could you let him near you like that? He is disgusting, horrible… covered in tattoos…he is a monster of a man.”

She groaned, “Melia, he is nice. Your husband is the one who is horrible. He is forever touching me, wanting me and groping me when you are not looking and he treats you terribly; and me too… so who is the monster?”