ABSTRUSE
Cirque du Freak
- Joined
- Mar 4, 2003
- Posts
- 50,094
I love how that happened!!
And the Bitch is gone....an exercise in writing.
- Thread starter ABSTRUSE
- Start date
I love how that happened!!
CrimsonMaiden
Pretty in Pink
- Joined
- Jul 10, 2004
- Posts
- 13,481
Oh, thanks for bumping this thread. Now I can put it in the library! 
Salvor-Hardon
A kiss is still a kiss
- Joined
- Jun 20, 2004
- Posts
- 15,669
I love this city. It has buildings that were built before Sherman burnt so much, and I wonder what would still remain. Right across the street is a structure so modern it as not even been altered by the elements. There are so many tall buildings, cathedrals to worship God in various ways and styles, skyscrapers to worship something else altogether, everything trying to reach up, to find that thing that is beyond the human experience. It would be easy to feel small and yet, there is a sense of energy that makes you want to rise to the very tops of these monoliths.
I park in the garage, and listen to the echoes as I walk out to the sidewalk. Cars hum and roar as they pass, the drivers seeing me as nothing more than an obstacle to be avoided. Little do they know why I am here, crossing this street to the front of this hotel. I'm meeting her here, this woman who makes me feel like a god among men. If the drivers knew she was meeting me here they would stop and cheer for me.
I look up the grey ribbon of concrete, hoping to catch a glimpse of her as she approaches, only to be surprised from behind "Hello lover" her voice in my ear before her teeth nibble on my ear. I smile and shiver before I spin around to take her in my arms and kiss her. Its more than a kiss, its a melding of bodies, of souls, of beings, and she returns the gesture eagerly.
My arm slips around her waist as we enter the hotel. We don't need a room, that's not why we are here. The elevator ride takes too long, even as we kiss and explore each other in the confines of that cabinet. I could kiss her forever but I am anxious to do more, to do this for her.
The ding of the opening door interrupts us and we break before the doors reveal our embrace to the hallway. No one is there, but we giggle anyway. I grab her hand and drag her out, down the hall and to the doorway to the stairs. I had heard from a friend of this passage way and now it was time to take advantage of it. I lead her out onto the roof just as the sun sets.
The city still hums and buzzes beneath us, as the shift between day and night hangs in balance. I kiss her again, deeply. She pulls at my shirt and is clawing at my belt. Reaching behind her, I unzip her skirt and let it fall.
The stars come out over us as we lay there, breathless after our tryst. Neither of us can speak, and she lays her head on my chest. I play with her hair as we just catch our breath. In the darkness now we search for our clothes, putting them on before we descend back to the streets that were unaware of the indulgence we had just over them.
I kiss her once more before we part company and I walk a bit more slowly as I cross the street. A driver blows his horn as I take too long to traverse the crosswalk. If he knew where I had just been, he would stop his car and cheer me.
West
West
i
I turn into the ghost town not sure of much beyond my own name. Do they still call these perfectly still cities ghost towns or are they just on the list of things to be crushed under our own hunger to devour? Does the question even matter since their isn’t anyone around to ask any way?
The emptiness soothes me because I can enjoy the sound of the slapping of my tire on the dusty pavement. Here I can focus my mind and cry if I need too. It feels so good to cry as if huge boulders are slipping gently quietly out of me. Where had I picked up all of this stuff? You would think that letting it go would leave me as weak as a kitten, but it didn’t. I can focus on things now that I hadn’t noticed before.
The sun is sending it’s healing warmth down my body and every ache in my beat up body is melting to nothing. It feels so good to be without pain for once that I almost don’t notice the dry tickle in my throat, I have one last Pepsi in cooler it may be room temperature now but it still ease’s the dry feeling and for that I’m grateful. I don’t have a single destination in mind to be honest but it’s deserted so no one will notice my rambling ways. So now I’m going to take in my surroundings like any good writer would. Finally time to focus on me.
I ended a relationship that just wasn’t working for me. I knew that it was going to be a hard relationship to be in because he truly had no clue what it meant to be a sub. I thought I could handle it after all I’d already proven to the world that I was one hell of a Domme on wheels so if the rest of the D/s community could handle my uniqueness with calm acceptance and warmth then what was one sub? What happened was horrific; he couldn’t accept the true nature of a sub. He wanted to use me as a sex toy behind closed doors and then act as if he and I had never met. I tried to explain that there where Dommes who found nothing wrong with that and perhaps he would be better off dealing with one of them. He lost it he mocked me for my standards and told me that I was a waste of space and then he attacked my skills as a writer of erotica. I can’t explain why but his attack on me as a writer is what sent me reeling and how it is I ended up here walking among these forgotten homes.
I don’t know why but traveling this city has helped me rebalance myself and I feel able to go on now.
West
i
I turn into the ghost town not sure of much beyond my own name. Do they still call these perfectly still cities ghost towns or are they just on the list of things to be crushed under our own hunger to devour? Does the question even matter since their isn’t anyone around to ask any way?
The emptiness soothes me because I can enjoy the sound of the slapping of my tire on the dusty pavement. Here I can focus my mind and cry if I need too. It feels so good to cry as if huge boulders are slipping gently quietly out of me. Where had I picked up all of this stuff? You would think that letting it go would leave me as weak as a kitten, but it didn’t. I can focus on things now that I hadn’t noticed before.
The sun is sending it’s healing warmth down my body and every ache in my beat up body is melting to nothing. It feels so good to be without pain for once that I almost don’t notice the dry tickle in my throat, I have one last Pepsi in cooler it may be room temperature now but it still ease’s the dry feeling and for that I’m grateful. I don’t have a single destination in mind to be honest but it’s deserted so no one will notice my rambling ways. So now I’m going to take in my surroundings like any good writer would. Finally time to focus on me.
I ended a relationship that just wasn’t working for me. I knew that it was going to be a hard relationship to be in because he truly had no clue what it meant to be a sub. I thought I could handle it after all I’d already proven to the world that I was one hell of a Domme on wheels so if the rest of the D/s community could handle my uniqueness with calm acceptance and warmth then what was one sub? What happened was horrific; he couldn’t accept the true nature of a sub. He wanted to use me as a sex toy behind closed doors and then act as if he and I had never met. I tried to explain that there where Dommes who found nothing wrong with that and perhaps he would be better off dealing with one of them. He lost it he mocked me for my standards and told me that I was a waste of space and then he attacked my skills as a writer of erotica. I can’t explain why but his attack on me as a writer is what sent me reeling and how it is I ended up here walking among these forgotten homes.
I don’t know why but traveling this city has helped me rebalance myself and I feel able to go on now.
Handley_Page
Draco interdum Vincit
- Joined
- Aug 18, 2007
- Posts
- 78,233
East will take you to a busy city street:
Box ‘o Matches, Guv’nor ?
Gawd, these bloody crowds is rough at times; everyone pushing and shoving to get there, wherever ‘there’ is. All I wanna do is sell some boxes of matches and get back to my gaff. And it’s colder than charity this afternoon.
“Two boxes, Sir?, ‘ere you go. That’ll be a shilling; thank you ,Sir, and ‘Appy Christmas.”
The youngsters are the worst, ya’ know. They care not a jot for anyone, least of all an old soldier trying to make an honest buck in the Regimental town. They just push ahead, thrusting all aside in their charge, uncaring for the results of their actions. The bastards ‘ave nearly ‘ad me on my back more than once.
“Just the one box this time, Sir? “Righty ho’, ‘Ere ya’ go, thank you kindly, and an Appy Christas to yer’ ”.
Where was I?. Oh yes. We ‘ad a right bunch of yobbo’s down the other day, for the football match; pushin’ and shovin’ any and all, just because they could, I reckon. And all because they supported their Team. As if that’s important; I ask yer’.
“Two boxes, was it Lady? There you go, thank you Madam, and I ‘ope you ‘ave a Good Christmas”
Been on this pitch for years, me. Oh Yes; I has all me reg’lars, ya’ know. They all know old George. I ‘ad to go into the ‘ospital last year for a while; I was coughin’ fit to bust, but I knew all I really needed was the fresh air so I got myself out ‘toot sweet’ as they say, and came back to work my pitch.
“One box it is, Sir. Right you are; thank you, ‘ere’s your change. And an ‘Appy Christmas to you”.
‘Arry the Lad, who organises us in the area, was pleased as punch to see me, and soon hoofed out the impudent SOB who’d taken up residence on my pitch. ‘Arry put ‘im round the other entrance, the one in the Avenue. Not so much traditional trade there, but I ‘ear as ‘ow he done OK. I’d not wish ill on anyone, specially this time of year. It’s bloody cold at times.
“Three boxes, Sir? Right you are. ‘Ere you go, Sir. Thank you kindly, and an ‘Appy Christmas to you and yours.”
Ey up, ‘ere we go, the ‘Eavy Mob’s arrived. Look at ‘em, yelling at the top of their voices as if they was going into battle; which I may add, they’d be shit scared to do. Load of poncey phonies with their “Official” outfits. I ask you, who’d pay to have a bloody advert on their shirt? And for a bloody washing machine at that. You seen the price of that gear ? You’d think it was “Oat Cooture”, that’s what. And they never buy nothin’ round ‘ere. It’s all done ‘on line’ whatever that means. Just half a step back and we’ll let them pass.
“Two boxes, Sir? There ya’ go, Sir. Thank you kindly, and ‘ave an ‘Appy Christmas”.
Oh yes, they really are the dregs, some of ‘em. You can tell the real fans, you know. They are keen but thoughtful, if you know what I mean. They understand the game, not like some of those idiot pundits you see on TV. But I tell you, they are paying ‘em far too much to prance about the field of play. And it’s the real fans who pay for it; week after week.
“A large box was that Sir ? Righty ho, there ya’ are. Thank you kindly, Sir, and an ‘Appy Christmas.”
Then there was the time when a bunch of eejits from nowhere came to be The Team. Our lot flattened ‘em six nil, and their so-called supporters went mental. Smashing this and that at the sheer injustice of them ‘avin’ a weaker side. A bunch of those bastards put me on my back and stole most of my takin’s, I tell you.
“Two boxes, Sir? Righty ho, ‘ere ya’ go, Thank you kindly, Sir, and ‘have a good Christmas.”
Fortunately for me a couple of decent lads happened to be around and showed them the error of their ways, so to speak; and got me most of my money, I may add.
Police? Don’t make me larf, they spend a lot of time with forms and so on and the Beak will let them off with a caution or a suspended sentence.
But a couple of the lads from the old Regiment? No bother.
We’re practically fam’ly, see ?
Box ‘o Matches, Guv’nor ?
Gawd, these bloody crowds is rough at times; everyone pushing and shoving to get there, wherever ‘there’ is. All I wanna do is sell some boxes of matches and get back to my gaff. And it’s colder than charity this afternoon.
“Two boxes, Sir?, ‘ere you go. That’ll be a shilling; thank you ,Sir, and ‘Appy Christmas.”
The youngsters are the worst, ya’ know. They care not a jot for anyone, least of all an old soldier trying to make an honest buck in the Regimental town. They just push ahead, thrusting all aside in their charge, uncaring for the results of their actions. The bastards ‘ave nearly ‘ad me on my back more than once.
“Just the one box this time, Sir? “Righty ho’, ‘Ere ya’ go, thank you kindly, and an Appy Christas to yer’ ”.
Where was I?. Oh yes. We ‘ad a right bunch of yobbo’s down the other day, for the football match; pushin’ and shovin’ any and all, just because they could, I reckon. And all because they supported their Team. As if that’s important; I ask yer’.
“Two boxes, was it Lady? There you go, thank you Madam, and I ‘ope you ‘ave a Good Christmas”
Been on this pitch for years, me. Oh Yes; I has all me reg’lars, ya’ know. They all know old George. I ‘ad to go into the ‘ospital last year for a while; I was coughin’ fit to bust, but I knew all I really needed was the fresh air so I got myself out ‘toot sweet’ as they say, and came back to work my pitch.
“One box it is, Sir. Right you are; thank you, ‘ere’s your change. And an ‘Appy Christmas to you”.
‘Arry the Lad, who organises us in the area, was pleased as punch to see me, and soon hoofed out the impudent SOB who’d taken up residence on my pitch. ‘Arry put ‘im round the other entrance, the one in the Avenue. Not so much traditional trade there, but I ‘ear as ‘ow he done OK. I’d not wish ill on anyone, specially this time of year. It’s bloody cold at times.
“Three boxes, Sir? Right you are. ‘Ere you go, Sir. Thank you kindly, and an ‘Appy Christmas to you and yours.”
Ey up, ‘ere we go, the ‘Eavy Mob’s arrived. Look at ‘em, yelling at the top of their voices as if they was going into battle; which I may add, they’d be shit scared to do. Load of poncey phonies with their “Official” outfits. I ask you, who’d pay to have a bloody advert on their shirt? And for a bloody washing machine at that. You seen the price of that gear ? You’d think it was “Oat Cooture”, that’s what. And they never buy nothin’ round ‘ere. It’s all done ‘on line’ whatever that means. Just half a step back and we’ll let them pass.
“Two boxes, Sir? There ya’ go, Sir. Thank you kindly, and ‘ave an ‘Appy Christmas”.
Oh yes, they really are the dregs, some of ‘em. You can tell the real fans, you know. They are keen but thoughtful, if you know what I mean. They understand the game, not like some of those idiot pundits you see on TV. But I tell you, they are paying ‘em far too much to prance about the field of play. And it’s the real fans who pay for it; week after week.
“A large box was that Sir ? Righty ho, there ya’ are. Thank you kindly, Sir, and an ‘Appy Christmas.”
Then there was the time when a bunch of eejits from nowhere came to be The Team. Our lot flattened ‘em six nil, and their so-called supporters went mental. Smashing this and that at the sheer injustice of them ‘avin’ a weaker side. A bunch of those bastards put me on my back and stole most of my takin’s, I tell you.
“Two boxes, Sir? Righty ho, ‘ere ya’ go, Thank you kindly, Sir, and ‘have a good Christmas.”
Fortunately for me a couple of decent lads happened to be around and showed them the error of their ways, so to speak; and got me most of my money, I may add.
Police? Don’t make me larf, they spend a lot of time with forms and so on and the Beak will let them off with a caution or a suspended sentence.
But a couple of the lads from the old Regiment? No bother.
We’re practically fam’ly, see ?
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Fish_Tales
Against the Current
- Joined
- Jun 24, 2011
- Posts
- 5,013
East
East will take you to a busy city street.
I didn’t want to be here, but this is where I had to be. I’d said I would be. I do what I say and I say what I do.
Always.
The heat was coming off the street and I already regretted wearing my jacket. As I walked through the throng of people coming the other way, I felt the small bumps, pushes and touches of those I didn’t know. How could people feel these impersonal touches every day? It would drive me mad.
Shouldn’t have come at the end of the day.
I patted my inside suit pocket absentmindedly as I walked. The gun was still there. A gun would be useless against so many people, but I wasn't here to see many people. I was only here to see one. The gun would work on one person.
Easily.
If needed.
My gun is a tool, not a reason. I use it or I don’t use it. I don’t have to use it. That’s why I’m different from the others. I would prefer you just did what I said, followed compliantly. Then everything would be alright. If you don’t listen, then….
I’ll use it.
I could see the bar from where I was. I was carried by the human current to the corner. Like a school of spawning salmon swimming upstream, my human current moved together, stopped together, waited together. Salmon at least fucked together at the end of their journey and then died together.
If things went sour, then he wouldn’t die together with anyone.
He’d die alone.
If he didn’t do what I said.
The light changed and we started to cross the street. There were no bears to threaten us, but then our lives are always fall of bears. Come back to this street after dark and then you might see some bears. Catching the foolish people. The people who don’t follow the school. Swim outside the pack. You should never swim outside the pack, it makes you stand out, easier to spot. I know.
I’m a bear.
I get to the other side and make my way through the crowd. I need to cut across them, but I have to do it slowly. I walk diagonally across them towards the other side of the path, them pushing me, me pushing them and finally I make it to the buildings. I start to walk, staying close to the walls and doorways, avoiding the human salmon.
I can feel a bead of sweat start high on my back and then tickle as it runs down the hollow of my spine. It stops at where my shirt is tucked into my pants and another starts to develop. I shouldn’t have worn the jacket, it’s too hot, but I had to hide the gun.
I’m at the doorway of the bar.
Finally.
Although it’s bright and hot outside, it’s dark in there. I hope there’s some sort of air conditioning. I can see myself reflected in the glass. I look so….
….nice.
I pat my pocket before I push on the door. I can be nice. If you do what I say.
If you listen.
I don’t want to use the gun, but I will.
If you don’t listen.
I push on the door and go in.
Just listen.
East will take you to a busy city street.
I didn’t want to be here, but this is where I had to be. I’d said I would be. I do what I say and I say what I do.
Always.
The heat was coming off the street and I already regretted wearing my jacket. As I walked through the throng of people coming the other way, I felt the small bumps, pushes and touches of those I didn’t know. How could people feel these impersonal touches every day? It would drive me mad.
Shouldn’t have come at the end of the day.
I patted my inside suit pocket absentmindedly as I walked. The gun was still there. A gun would be useless against so many people, but I wasn't here to see many people. I was only here to see one. The gun would work on one person.
Easily.
If needed.
My gun is a tool, not a reason. I use it or I don’t use it. I don’t have to use it. That’s why I’m different from the others. I would prefer you just did what I said, followed compliantly. Then everything would be alright. If you don’t listen, then….
I’ll use it.
I could see the bar from where I was. I was carried by the human current to the corner. Like a school of spawning salmon swimming upstream, my human current moved together, stopped together, waited together. Salmon at least fucked together at the end of their journey and then died together.
If things went sour, then he wouldn’t die together with anyone.
He’d die alone.
If he didn’t do what I said.
The light changed and we started to cross the street. There were no bears to threaten us, but then our lives are always fall of bears. Come back to this street after dark and then you might see some bears. Catching the foolish people. The people who don’t follow the school. Swim outside the pack. You should never swim outside the pack, it makes you stand out, easier to spot. I know.
I’m a bear.
I get to the other side and make my way through the crowd. I need to cut across them, but I have to do it slowly. I walk diagonally across them towards the other side of the path, them pushing me, me pushing them and finally I make it to the buildings. I start to walk, staying close to the walls and doorways, avoiding the human salmon.
I can feel a bead of sweat start high on my back and then tickle as it runs down the hollow of my spine. It stops at where my shirt is tucked into my pants and another starts to develop. I shouldn’t have worn the jacket, it’s too hot, but I had to hide the gun.
I’m at the doorway of the bar.
Finally.
Although it’s bright and hot outside, it’s dark in there. I hope there’s some sort of air conditioning. I can see myself reflected in the glass. I look so….
….nice.
I pat my pocket before I push on the door. I can be nice. If you do what I say.
If you listen.
I don’t want to use the gun, but I will.
If you don’t listen.
I push on the door and go in.
Just listen.
Last edited:
Stella_Omega
No Gentleman
- Joined
- Jul 14, 2005
- Posts
- 39,700
So glad to see this thread!
sheer genius, Handley
Trinique_Fire
Daddi's Princess
- Joined
- Dec 15, 2004
- Posts
- 10,534
Dream.
I head South, like you always did in this life. I bring Kim with me, and we hold hands, not out of lust for each other, but sisterly love and fear of what we might find at the seashore. We kick along the sandy path in the woods. We take our time. We are stalling. We discuss your visitations, just not with the usual vigor. With each breath, I can taste the salt air, and it's unlike anything I've ever experienced. The smell is oppressive, and the closer we come to the place where the trees meet the shore, the more I want to resist and pull back, but Kim squeezes my hand and trudges through the sand, determined to end this mystery of where you ended up after you left this life.
In seconds, we are surrounded by open sky and the twelve apostles looming in front of us and around us. My heart pounds and I tear away from Kim. I begin clawing at the nearest apostle, climbing and climbing until I can't climb anymore. I look up and only for a moment does my equilibrium fail me.
Kim yells for me to come down, but I wave her off and peek into the fields of heaven, where you ought to be but aren't. I knew you wouldn't be, but I held onto the hope that we would not have to travel to other planes. The water churns below me, infuriated. I jump into the madness, gulping salty wetness.
I call upon the gods to guide me.
tolyk
Checked out
- Joined
- Feb 2, 2004
- Posts
- 45,445
needed to bump this
*hugs* Miss you Abs!
Trombonus
A bit older, a lot wiser.
- Joined
- Jul 17, 2006
- Posts
- 15,398
Always wanted to do this!
I don't remember how long I had been walking, and to be honest, I no longer cared. Ahead was the object of my heart's desire, my sanctuary. It was the one place where I could truly lose myself. The smell of the salty sea air grew steadily stronger, grafting itself to my sense of smell as it permeated my body. It was familiar, safe, home. The road was gradually getting shorter and shorter as the expanse of sand and water came closer and closer. I could taste it now. The sound of the waves crashing onto the shore and ebbing back to the ocean grew louder and louder, almost deafening. The chill wind sent a shiver through my body as it carried the ocean's spray to me.
Do you remember it? The days we spent in this place. We were safe here. No matter what faced us we could always escape to this place.
I watched as the ground beneath my feet changed from asphalt to white sand. I stop to take off my shoes, and slowly set off into the cool sand. The soft texture of the sand sifted through my toes as I slowly progressed forward. Seagulls circled around, scavenging as always. The beach was littered with the usual scatterings of debris and seaweed, as well as a random piece of garbage carelessly left behind by some lazy person. I reach down to pick up the garbage and grab a smooth pebble, then skip it along the waters edge. One, two, three hops and that ever so satisfying "sploosh* as it sunk into the water. You were always so good at that. I dump the garbage into it's receptacle and continue on towards the water. The vivid blue of the water stretched into the horizon until it touched the cloudy sky. I lost myself in my senses: the sights, the smells, The sounds, the taste of the salty sea air, the feeling of the soft sand and the cool breeze.
A small hermit crab appeared, casually walking across the beach and behind a rock near a cliff. He was a cute little guy. I remembered how much you used to love the little guys when we were younger. It was such a long time ago, but the memory is etched into my mind so much that it feels like no time has passed at all. I find a spot to sit and reflect, taking in everything the ocean has to offer me.
I miss you, I love you, my sister. How many years has it been? Are you out there somewhere? In a way, I am jealous. The ocean is so beautiful, yet it took something so wonderful from us all. You belong to it now. You were never found after the accident, but I know. You were taken by the thing you loved the most. My beloved sister, I hope you are happy now, out there on the horizon. I hope someday we will be able to see each other in that place we shared. Our sanctuary, our home. Rest in peace, dear sister.
I don't remember how long I had been walking, and to be honest, I no longer cared. Ahead was the object of my heart's desire, my sanctuary. It was the one place where I could truly lose myself. The smell of the salty sea air grew steadily stronger, grafting itself to my sense of smell as it permeated my body. It was familiar, safe, home. The road was gradually getting shorter and shorter as the expanse of sand and water came closer and closer. I could taste it now. The sound of the waves crashing onto the shore and ebbing back to the ocean grew louder and louder, almost deafening. The chill wind sent a shiver through my body as it carried the ocean's spray to me.
Do you remember it? The days we spent in this place. We were safe here. No matter what faced us we could always escape to this place.
I watched as the ground beneath my feet changed from asphalt to white sand. I stop to take off my shoes, and slowly set off into the cool sand. The soft texture of the sand sifted through my toes as I slowly progressed forward. Seagulls circled around, scavenging as always. The beach was littered with the usual scatterings of debris and seaweed, as well as a random piece of garbage carelessly left behind by some lazy person. I reach down to pick up the garbage and grab a smooth pebble, then skip it along the waters edge. One, two, three hops and that ever so satisfying "sploosh* as it sunk into the water. You were always so good at that. I dump the garbage into it's receptacle and continue on towards the water. The vivid blue of the water stretched into the horizon until it touched the cloudy sky. I lost myself in my senses: the sights, the smells, The sounds, the taste of the salty sea air, the feeling of the soft sand and the cool breeze.
A small hermit crab appeared, casually walking across the beach and behind a rock near a cliff. He was a cute little guy. I remembered how much you used to love the little guys when we were younger. It was such a long time ago, but the memory is etched into my mind so much that it feels like no time has passed at all. I find a spot to sit and reflect, taking in everything the ocean has to offer me.
I miss you, I love you, my sister. How many years has it been? Are you out there somewhere? In a way, I am jealous. The ocean is so beautiful, yet it took something so wonderful from us all. You belong to it now. You were never found after the accident, but I know. You were taken by the thing you loved the most. My beloved sister, I hope you are happy now, out there on the horizon. I hope someday we will be able to see each other in that place we shared. Our sanctuary, our home. Rest in peace, dear sister.
Angellica1612
Married to Mutato
- Joined
- Dec 24, 2011
- Posts
- 8,138
I will go south, to the ocean:
Gently at first, like a distant memory, the sound of the waves reached her ears, the incessant push and pull like a heartbeat. The tangy, salty taste of the sea filled her nose and mouth. The ground beneath her feet began to give as she moved from forest path to soft, golden sand, it's color dulled now beneath the angry swirling gray clouds hanging low overhead. She paused, watching the gunmetal blue swells as they rose and hurled themselves onto the beach, white froth boiling in a furious dance as it crashed down into itself and rushed up to cover the sand. The fretful wind tore at her hair, flinging it madly around her head, and she felt her long skirt whipping around her legs. Her haunted green eyes stared out into the abyss.
Pain lanced through her, shattering the deep numbness that had been her shield and protector for three days now. It clawed at her heart like a living, sharp-clawed beast. Sobs tore from her throat as salty tears poured down her cheeks, mixing with the wind-carried tears of the sea. She wrapped her arms around her body, as if she could protect herself from the onslaught. Her legs gave out and she dropped onto her knees, bowing her head. Sobs wracked her slender frame and her low wail fought it's way against the roar of the tide.
Though she couldn't know it, she wasn't alone. Soft, anguished brown eyes watched her. He fought the emotions, needing all his strength to do what had to be done. He waited, knowing the moment was fast approaching. He could feel her emotions, the terrible aching sense of loss and fear and anger. He concentrated on building the necessary energy as he watched her rise shakily to her feet. She paused, then began to walk, her steps heavy and leaden as if her feet had turned to iron, too heavy to lift easily. She reached the edge of the water and stopped, watching watching as it rushed up to cover her ankles, the cold sting momentarily giving her pause. He focused his energy to speak to her.
"Erin."
She froze, then whipped around, looking wildly about the deserted beach. "Who's there?" she called out in a shaky voice that barely carried through the turbulent air. But her eyes saw no one. She wiped at her tears as she turned back to face the ocean, the abyss that would soon be her home.
"Erin." She heard her name again, in an odd, echoing voice. It seemed to come from everywhere, and no where. She whirled, but the beach remained deserted.
"Who's there?" she yelled, getting angry. This was her time, her sacred moment. She wanted no one to see, no one to try to stop her from her destiny. She trembled as the cold rolling off the ocean seemed to work it's way deep into her bones.
He moved close, so close he could touch her, if that were possible. He watched as she looked searchingly up and down the beach, then at the tree line. After a moment, she turned around, and began to speak.
"I'm coming, my love. I know you're there, waiting for me." She lifted her face to the salty spray, closing her eyes as she mentally sent apologies to her family and friends. Then she opened her eyes, took a deep breath and began to move forward.
"Nay, love." The voice was louder now, seeming to fill her head with his beloved, familiar Irish lilt. She stopped abruptly, but she didn't look around this time.
"Sean?" she asked, her voice hesitant but trembling with hope.
"Aye, my sweet." His voice soothed the clawing beast inside her as her heart began to pound.
"Sean! I'm coming! I'm coming to you! Oh my God, thank you, I knew you'd be here!" She laughed joyously as tears coursed down her face.
"Nay!" His voice was sharp, commanding.
Erin froze, an uncertain frown on her beautiful face. Her green eyes held confusion.
"'Tis wrong, lass."
"I don't care!" she burst out. "I can't stay, not without you."
He was getting tired already. He focused hard, longing to reach out and take her in his arms as he had done so many times before. But those memories were dangerous now, sapping his energy. It was vital he tell her what she needed to know.
"You must," he said. "It is not your time."
"I can't live without you, Sean. It's a living death!" Sobs filled her now, as the pain of his rejection tore through her. Why didn't he want her to join him?
"Erin, listen, I have ver'a little time." He moved around to face her, wishing she could see him. "You have much to live for, my precious wife. I want our bairn to live."
She went still, utter astonishment freezing her features. He watched, the joy of it filling him as comprehension dawned in her eyes. "I'm..." she swallowed, then went on in a trembling voice, "I'm pregnant?"
"Aye," he answered, a whole lifetime of love in that one simple syllable.
She stood still, blinking, as the knowledge settled in. "I'm pregnant," she whispered.
"A girl," he said, fighting his own tears. How he wished he could be there when his beloved wife brought their beautiful daughter into the world. If he was still alive, they'd be sharing this moment wrapped in each others arms, celebrating the life they'd created. The urge to hold her filled him, the intensity of it nearly painful.
Suddenly, her eyes widened, and she seemed to look directly into his. He looked down, and saw the shimmering glow emanating from his body, and realized they were being given a miracle.
Erin saw the hazy, shimmering glow take form before her, growing stronger, until she could see familiar brown eyes and a gentle loving smile. She could still see the waves behind him, as if he were transparent, a hologram. But she could see him.
"Sean," she breathed, stunned and thrilled in equal measure.
"Erin," he answered, and reached out a hand towards her.
Their fingers met, and she felt a soft tingle, as if she'd touched a low wattage electric fence.
"Ye' must live, and raise our daughter," he said. "I'll be waitin' for ye', no matter how long ye' live. And I'll always be with ye', watchin' over ye both."
She smiled, and he saw the peace return to her eyes, to her soul. She was safe, and his job was done, his last job on earth. He could feel the pull. It was time to go.
"I love you," he said softly. "Ye' made me the happiest man on earth."
"And I will always love you," she answered.
"I have to go now, Erin."
"No!" she cried, her hand closing around his, then passing through. She could no longer feel him, and he began to waver, the light fading. "No, don't go!"
"I must," he said, his voice becoming fainter. "I can't stay, but I'll never leave ye'. I'll be in your heart, and in our daughter, and in your memories. And I'll be waiting for ye'." He faded from sight, and she barely heard his last words. "I love you."
He was gone. She sobbed, dropping to the sand, heedless of the cold water rushing around her, soaking her dress. But after a few minutes, her cries stopped, and she stared out into the sea that had taken him from her. Here, in their special place, they'd been granted one more miracle. She placed a hand over her stomach, and a smile lifted the corners of her mouth, even as her tears continued to flow.
Gently at first, like a distant memory, the sound of the waves reached her ears, the incessant push and pull like a heartbeat. The tangy, salty taste of the sea filled her nose and mouth. The ground beneath her feet began to give as she moved from forest path to soft, golden sand, it's color dulled now beneath the angry swirling gray clouds hanging low overhead. She paused, watching the gunmetal blue swells as they rose and hurled themselves onto the beach, white froth boiling in a furious dance as it crashed down into itself and rushed up to cover the sand. The fretful wind tore at her hair, flinging it madly around her head, and she felt her long skirt whipping around her legs. Her haunted green eyes stared out into the abyss.
Pain lanced through her, shattering the deep numbness that had been her shield and protector for three days now. It clawed at her heart like a living, sharp-clawed beast. Sobs tore from her throat as salty tears poured down her cheeks, mixing with the wind-carried tears of the sea. She wrapped her arms around her body, as if she could protect herself from the onslaught. Her legs gave out and she dropped onto her knees, bowing her head. Sobs wracked her slender frame and her low wail fought it's way against the roar of the tide.
Though she couldn't know it, she wasn't alone. Soft, anguished brown eyes watched her. He fought the emotions, needing all his strength to do what had to be done. He waited, knowing the moment was fast approaching. He could feel her emotions, the terrible aching sense of loss and fear and anger. He concentrated on building the necessary energy as he watched her rise shakily to her feet. She paused, then began to walk, her steps heavy and leaden as if her feet had turned to iron, too heavy to lift easily. She reached the edge of the water and stopped, watching watching as it rushed up to cover her ankles, the cold sting momentarily giving her pause. He focused his energy to speak to her.
"Erin."
She froze, then whipped around, looking wildly about the deserted beach. "Who's there?" she called out in a shaky voice that barely carried through the turbulent air. But her eyes saw no one. She wiped at her tears as she turned back to face the ocean, the abyss that would soon be her home.
"Erin." She heard her name again, in an odd, echoing voice. It seemed to come from everywhere, and no where. She whirled, but the beach remained deserted.
"Who's there?" she yelled, getting angry. This was her time, her sacred moment. She wanted no one to see, no one to try to stop her from her destiny. She trembled as the cold rolling off the ocean seemed to work it's way deep into her bones.
He moved close, so close he could touch her, if that were possible. He watched as she looked searchingly up and down the beach, then at the tree line. After a moment, she turned around, and began to speak.
"I'm coming, my love. I know you're there, waiting for me." She lifted her face to the salty spray, closing her eyes as she mentally sent apologies to her family and friends. Then she opened her eyes, took a deep breath and began to move forward.
"Nay, love." The voice was louder now, seeming to fill her head with his beloved, familiar Irish lilt. She stopped abruptly, but she didn't look around this time.
"Sean?" she asked, her voice hesitant but trembling with hope.
"Aye, my sweet." His voice soothed the clawing beast inside her as her heart began to pound.
"Sean! I'm coming! I'm coming to you! Oh my God, thank you, I knew you'd be here!" She laughed joyously as tears coursed down her face.
"Nay!" His voice was sharp, commanding.
Erin froze, an uncertain frown on her beautiful face. Her green eyes held confusion.
"'Tis wrong, lass."
"I don't care!" she burst out. "I can't stay, not without you."
He was getting tired already. He focused hard, longing to reach out and take her in his arms as he had done so many times before. But those memories were dangerous now, sapping his energy. It was vital he tell her what she needed to know.
"You must," he said. "It is not your time."
"I can't live without you, Sean. It's a living death!" Sobs filled her now, as the pain of his rejection tore through her. Why didn't he want her to join him?
"Erin, listen, I have ver'a little time." He moved around to face her, wishing she could see him. "You have much to live for, my precious wife. I want our bairn to live."
She went still, utter astonishment freezing her features. He watched, the joy of it filling him as comprehension dawned in her eyes. "I'm..." she swallowed, then went on in a trembling voice, "I'm pregnant?"
"Aye," he answered, a whole lifetime of love in that one simple syllable.
She stood still, blinking, as the knowledge settled in. "I'm pregnant," she whispered.
"A girl," he said, fighting his own tears. How he wished he could be there when his beloved wife brought their beautiful daughter into the world. If he was still alive, they'd be sharing this moment wrapped in each others arms, celebrating the life they'd created. The urge to hold her filled him, the intensity of it nearly painful.
Suddenly, her eyes widened, and she seemed to look directly into his. He looked down, and saw the shimmering glow emanating from his body, and realized they were being given a miracle.
Erin saw the hazy, shimmering glow take form before her, growing stronger, until she could see familiar brown eyes and a gentle loving smile. She could still see the waves behind him, as if he were transparent, a hologram. But she could see him.
"Sean," she breathed, stunned and thrilled in equal measure.
"Erin," he answered, and reached out a hand towards her.
Their fingers met, and she felt a soft tingle, as if she'd touched a low wattage electric fence.
"Ye' must live, and raise our daughter," he said. "I'll be waitin' for ye', no matter how long ye' live. And I'll always be with ye', watchin' over ye both."
She smiled, and he saw the peace return to her eyes, to her soul. She was safe, and his job was done, his last job on earth. He could feel the pull. It was time to go.
"I love you," he said softly. "Ye' made me the happiest man on earth."
"And I will always love you," she answered.
"I have to go now, Erin."
"No!" she cried, her hand closing around his, then passing through. She could no longer feel him, and he began to waver, the light fading. "No, don't go!"
"I must," he said, his voice becoming fainter. "I can't stay, but I'll never leave ye'. I'll be in your heart, and in our daughter, and in your memories. And I'll be waiting for ye'." He faded from sight, and she barely heard his last words. "I love you."
He was gone. She sobbed, dropping to the sand, heedless of the cold water rushing around her, soaking her dress. But after a few minutes, her cries stopped, and she stared out into the sea that had taken him from her. Here, in their special place, they'd been granted one more miracle. She placed a hand over her stomach, and a smile lifted the corners of her mouth, even as her tears continued to flow.
Handley_Page
Draco interdum Vincit
- Joined
- Aug 18, 2007
- Posts
- 78,233
Nice one, Angellica
Angellica1612
Married to Mutato
- Joined
- Dec 24, 2011
- Posts
- 8,138
cloudy
Alabama Slammer
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2004
- Posts
- 37,997
I know, right? And who the hell posted that stuff under my name? I don't write (at least not anymore).
...and I'm still kicking your ass next time I see you....just so you know.
Trombonus
A bit older, a lot wiser.
- Joined
- Jul 17, 2006
- Posts
- 15,398
oggbashan
Dying Truth seeker
- Joined
- Jul 3, 2002
- Posts
- 56,017
West will take you to a deserted village.
The rain continued to splatter on my waterproof jacket as I walked from the now-distant car park following the waymarked path towards the Roman Fort. I was beginning to regret the impulse to retrace the steps we had taken together all those years ago.
I wondered about those Spanish-born Roman soldiers who had manned the fort in the third century AD. Did they shiver as they walked the walls in the mist and rain, cursing the British Isles as being the end of the known world? Did they curse their centurion for ordering them out into the rain on guard duty, watching for an enemy that would not come for another hundred years?
Inside the fort I went to the edge of the cliff, looking out to where half the fort had fallen into the sea, as I stood beside the ruins of the town's church. The grey waves had swallowed half the Roman fort, most of the town and its abbey that had been so important at the time of the Domesday Book. Was the town's destruction a symbol of the impermanence of man's endeavour or was I just miserable because I was cold, wet and alone?
This town had been built with materials salvaged from the extensive Roman buildings. Even the remains of the church showed thousands of re-used red Roman tiles. How many more of the now-vanished buildings had glowed in the summers' suns with the red tiling that showed Roman origins?
Once this had been one of the most important and populous towns in our county. Once it had sent representatives to the parliaments at Westminster. Once the abbey had been as important as that of Canterbury. All that remained now was a few piles of stones, the rubble filling of the fort's walls, a couple of holiday cottages deserted in winter, and the signs telling visitors what had been.
Years ago we had come here on an unexpectedly bright June afternoon that had followed a heavy morning shower. Then, like now, there had been no other cars in the car park, no one visible except ourselves then, myself alone now. There in that ruined church, that seemed so romantic then, I had proposed and been accepted, starting a relationship that had led to marriage, children and grandchildren.
Now the place is dank, dour, almost threatening. How much difference the sun makes. It must have brightened the lives of those Spanish Roman soldiers before the autumn and winter made them wish for their far-away home.
Today I could believe in the ghost stories about this place. Locals had heard a crying baby for hundreds of years before a baby's skeleton had been found in the foundations of the fort's gatehouse. Monks are supposed to process yards above the sea, heading for the Abbey's vanished buildings. The seagulls' screams are the only sounds of life as I turn away heading back to the car park.
Next time my wife goes for a long chat with her chief bridesmaid of long ago, I won't return to this deserted place to remember.
I'll go to the pub.
The rain continued to splatter on my waterproof jacket as I walked from the now-distant car park following the waymarked path towards the Roman Fort. I was beginning to regret the impulse to retrace the steps we had taken together all those years ago.
I wondered about those Spanish-born Roman soldiers who had manned the fort in the third century AD. Did they shiver as they walked the walls in the mist and rain, cursing the British Isles as being the end of the known world? Did they curse their centurion for ordering them out into the rain on guard duty, watching for an enemy that would not come for another hundred years?
Inside the fort I went to the edge of the cliff, looking out to where half the fort had fallen into the sea, as I stood beside the ruins of the town's church. The grey waves had swallowed half the Roman fort, most of the town and its abbey that had been so important at the time of the Domesday Book. Was the town's destruction a symbol of the impermanence of man's endeavour or was I just miserable because I was cold, wet and alone?
This town had been built with materials salvaged from the extensive Roman buildings. Even the remains of the church showed thousands of re-used red Roman tiles. How many more of the now-vanished buildings had glowed in the summers' suns with the red tiling that showed Roman origins?
Once this had been one of the most important and populous towns in our county. Once it had sent representatives to the parliaments at Westminster. Once the abbey had been as important as that of Canterbury. All that remained now was a few piles of stones, the rubble filling of the fort's walls, a couple of holiday cottages deserted in winter, and the signs telling visitors what had been.
Years ago we had come here on an unexpectedly bright June afternoon that had followed a heavy morning shower. Then, like now, there had been no other cars in the car park, no one visible except ourselves then, myself alone now. There in that ruined church, that seemed so romantic then, I had proposed and been accepted, starting a relationship that had led to marriage, children and grandchildren.
Now the place is dank, dour, almost threatening. How much difference the sun makes. It must have brightened the lives of those Spanish Roman soldiers before the autumn and winter made them wish for their far-away home.
Today I could believe in the ghost stories about this place. Locals had heard a crying baby for hundreds of years before a baby's skeleton had been found in the foundations of the fort's gatehouse. Monks are supposed to process yards above the sea, heading for the Abbey's vanished buildings. The seagulls' screams are the only sounds of life as I turn away heading back to the car park.
Next time my wife goes for a long chat with her chief bridesmaid of long ago, I won't return to this deserted place to remember.
I'll go to the pub.
Handley_Page
Draco interdum Vincit
- Joined
- Aug 18, 2007
- Posts
- 78,233
Is this thread still a goer?.
I'm working on some more words !
I'm working on some more words !
TxRad
Dirty Old Man
- Joined
- Jan 13, 2005
- Posts
- 45,152
_Lynn_
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Dec 12, 2006
- Posts
- 49,381
FLASHBACK!!
and why not? This inspired many a writer back in the day, some even published based on the snippets written here.
Find your muse
Wow, I forgot about these. Thanks!
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