Writing Challenge ~ June 2014

WRITING CHALLENGE ~ JUNE 2014​

The summer is almost upon us…and so it’s time for a new challenge! This challenge will run for the whole month and hopefully we’ll see lots more lovely pieces from all those exceedingly talented writers out there!

And so, without further ado, here are your prompts.


You can involve the prompts themselves in your piece and make your link to the prompts as obvious or as subtle as you like or use them simply as inspiration for something else. You can use part of the prompts, just one aspect of the images, or use them in their entirety.

As there are several prompts you can of course chose to use all of them in one piece or write one for each…again, it’s your writing, your challenge. You write whatever you’re inspired to write!

The word limit for this challenge is 2,600 words and your submission can take whatever form you desire – poetry or prose, complete story or a vignette. Erotic or not, serious or light hearted, it’s whatever you want it to be!!

Post only your submissions in this thread, constructive comments and reviews are to be posted in the appropriately named – Comment and Review Thread

The deadline for this month’s challenge is Sunday 29th June 2014, with July’s challenge hopefully going live the following week!

Previous challenges and reviews can be found here.

Happy writing!

The interior of the truck was rough and the engine just clock-clock-clocked as the wheels spun down the road. Craggy cloth seat liners, lines of white and maroon and black. Maybe she had seen kinds like those before, in other trucks. Her small fingertips slid into the holes of the pattern – hid them in there, stretched her hand into a delicate claw. She clicked her teeth together.

“What are you doin' over there?” he clenched a cigarette between his teeth, and the smoke rushed past him as it escaped out the window. His hand pulled back from the manual crank and ran over the scuffed metal of the steering wheel.

“Bein' a monster.” She laid the side of her head on the doorframe, even though she knew her hair would tug out into the wind of the highway and snag. They had to yell over the countryside whirling by as it was – twilight rough-roading didn't make for a good conversation, but they didn't need to talk. The indigo and gray colors of the bleached out evening filled all possible sensations. The truck itself was full of smells, all those associated with vehicles driven by reckless boys whose eyes were too dark to be mean but too intense to be safe. Cigarettes, oil, gasoline, aftershave. An oily toolkit rocketed around the truckbed. Her hair spun out and twisted along her reflection in the rearview. She poked her tongue out at her image.

“C'mon,” he exhaled and flicked the butt out the window. Sparks trailed before he rolled it shut again with a squeak. “Get your pretty head back in. You know I don't got a comb in here and your hair's gonna look like a rat's nest. Gravel's coming up.”

If she sighed, it was carried away in the current speeding by her frame of vision. She wanted to yell at the top of her lungs out of that window, let her hair flow and fly on with the end of the day. She hooked loose strands back into her hands and tucked them back, one hand gripping and the other hand awkwardly working the crank. Her window closed and the cab was quiet for a moment, the motor humming and the air freshener ticking. His right hand reached out and grabbed her by the back of the neck, gently, like he was picking a particularly stubborn flower. She nuzzled the side of her cheek into his jeans and shut her eyes, a smile on her lips.

“Does my hair look awful?”

He was stroking the entangled locks with idle fingers and picking out the worst of the knots. She would jerk back every so often when he met a determined snag.

“Hold still. You're worse than a bed of thorns. When we get home you sit on the porch and pick them out.”

“Aw, but I thought we were gonna watch a movie.”

“What one?”

“You got it at the store! It's in the back!”

“I did?” He was leaning into the door as he drove, a three-cornered consideration with his arm stretched out to the wheel. He ran the heel of his palm over the stubble on his cheeks and sighed. She started to sit up but he touched her face, glancing down and then back at the road.

“Yeah, I did. But... some are for me. The other is a surprise.”

“A surprise! Is that what took you so long?”

“Sure. I gotta find the best surprise, don't I?”

She bit her lip and grinned, the dimples in her cheeks widening. The bottoms of her scuffed up flats tapped against the seat in a quick rhythm and then she stretched out, luxuriantly forgetting about the dreaded knot-eradication. Mindlessly she started parting the hair on her own, combing it with the natural cleverness of her fingers and musing aloud as the night darkened around the cab. From time to time he would remind her to speak up, but she didn't mind. The tossing rocks sprayed up and flicked at the doors, the windows, the windshield.

“You know what one I like? I like Meet Me in St. Louis. And Gigi. And oh, I like My Fair Lady, too! It's silly. All of those old movies. What do they know, right? But I still like the songs, and how they dance.”

She straightened the sleeve of his flannel shirt, rolling up the cuff as his hand rested on her stomach.

“You know, Gene Kelly discovered Leslie Caron. What if he had forgotten her?”

“Naw, she was too cute to forget. I'm glad you like the old movies. The new ones...”

The pause stretched, and he covered it by angling his head so he could glance up at the now-dark sky. No moon.

“You know, birdy, I think we're going to get some rain. All of those flowers you planted have been looking pretty dry.”

He expected her to chirp back some excited remark – he had gone to no little amount of effort and expense to track down the varieties she wanted. She was quiet, however, in his lap.

“Baby?”

A glance down showed a troubled expression. Almost vacant.

“Okay. Okay.”

He checked where they were, knew a turn off was right ahead. A copse of trees surrounded a little break of road – the Farthing's place had reached out here, once, but the pond had been left long since to dry out around the edges. The foliage cover was thick, and dark. He knew he could see just fine in there, and nobody could see the truck light. Alright. Alright. The wheel spun and the tires scattered stones, but he didn't fishtail. He wanted to look down at her in his lap but knew the corner was too tight. Shit.

“Rain... Dancing in the -”

Come on, come on.

Her spine had stiffened, and her fingers were digging into his forearm. Trees started lining up on the side of the road and the gravel paid out into a circle lined with halved logs. Kids used to come out here for frog hunting, fishing. The creek started a bit further but it was still reachable with inner tubes and beer. The truck skidded to a stop and he killed the engine. His hands were reaching over her, one finger stopping to check her pulse, and the glove compartment was hurriedly opened. Half. Just half. She's not convulsing. She'll be fine.

“Dancing -”

“Shh, baby, I know. Not that one. We don't have to watch that one. Here, here -” The needle was as fine as a thread and winked out once in the dim light, into the fragile skin of her neck and gone just as quickly. She didn't even feel the sting, but a tear ran from her eye.

His hands, so rough and work-worn, were most tender when he touched her. She hadn't had a seizure. She hadn't choked or gotten sick. He felt her pulse. It had dipped but was slowly – so slowy, Christ – coming back up. He didn't know how long they could keep this up, but he had to. They had to. He reached out, flipped off the compartment bulb, and gathered her up in his arms. He'd wait as long as she needed to.


Later, she had come around dazed and groggy. He told her she'd fallen asleep in the truck and that he had wanted to check on some of his traps. He hadn't left her long, and then he'd made sure to be right by the truck. She couldn't stand being alone at night. He had taken off his flannel shirt and wrapped her in it, started driving home with his white cotton tank top somehow not giving away the nervousness he thought was visible from a mile away. Eventually she had rallied, even though home was only twenty minutes off, and started asking questions about the status of the shade tree that had been miscalculated for sunlight. Her flowers needed the sun, didn't they?

He allowed that they did, and kissed her as the truck gently eased up before the restored white farmhouse. Rain drops began, one at a time, two at a time.

“My seeds! Is everything ready? I have to go check -”

“Hey,” he snagged her as he was stepping down from the cab. She had gone barreling out the door and would've fallen on her ass in the garden in those worn out shoes. “What'd I say? You need to comb that hair.”

He illustrated his point, ensnaring his fist in the deep auburn of the tangle at the back of her head. He yanked her face back, tilting her so she looked at him upside down.

“Anyway, you got no shoes on. Tell you what, you comb out your hair and you help me with the things I got at the store...” He considered, and she bounced impatiently. Her back arched, like a cat, and he ran his tongue over his lip in a considering way. “And then we'll check on those baby seeds, hear?”

She nodded, as vigorously as possible – which was not very – and then he released her. She took off for the front steps and he followed more leisurely, picking up the bags from the back of the truck and making sure the windows were shut. A German Shepherd barked like a metronome, announcing their arrival and nothing more.

“Come on! We gotta hurry, before it rains too much!”

He nodded, as he sorted through his keys, until he got within reach. The bags were dropped and he smashed her up against the screen door. If he had been tender with her in the car, now he was as flat and quick as a snake. His hands were on both of her arms, above her elbows. The flannel shirt he had put around her kept him from direct contact with her skin, but it was enough. The barking in the house quieted. Their breathing escalated.

“You want me to take care of those knots?”

She was quiet so long, it was as though she'd gone deaf. But she hadn't. Why did she do this? Why did she make him do this?

“I asked you a question. Do you want me to take care -”

His neck bent, and his frame moved down closer to her level. His lips were on her ear, and she shuddered – just barely. Only barely. But her hands plucked at her shirt.

“ - of those KNOTS?”

She jumped at the last. Her head shook vigorously, side to side. No. No no no.

“Alright, then. That's alright. See?” He crouched in front of her, an exasperated laugh tumbling out of his mouth. “You just gotta listen. You like to listen. What's the matter, anyway? Huh?”

Her lip trembled and she shook her head more, hands knotting and knotting fabric. The dog scratched uneasily at the door.

“Ohh. Oh, birdy. I'm – Oh, hell, I'm sorry. So sorry. Come here.”

He stood up, wrapped his arms around her. He whispered words into her hair, which wasn't as tangled as he made her believe, and stroked any part of her that he thought would help. At first she rested her cheek against his shoulder, but then she turned her face up to his.

“Are you still mad?”

He felt guilty then, and pressed his chin against the top of her head. “No, no. I'm – I just... it's a long night. I was scared, I thought – anyway, we're home. You didn't do anything. I tell you what. I'll comb your hair, and we can watch something. You can help me with my stuff tomorrow. Okay?”

Finally, finally, the smile he had been trying to recapture glinted out at him. “Really? What about my tangles? I thought they were too bad for you to comb.”

He edged past her, the hand with the bags draped casually around her waist. The screen door was banged open and the keys turned in the locks. The dog was barking again.

“Nope. Nope, nope, nope. But first, go in the back and make sure Max has water. Deal?”

She kicked off her flats and gave him a kiss on the cheek before winding her fingers in the fur at the dog's neck. They went back in the spacious house, towards the cool dimness of the kitchen. Max's tags jangled. And while they were gone, he moved into the room to the right. It was just a living room, widescreen, fabric rather than leather, wood floors. He unlocked the closet, listening to make sure he had the timing right. The faucet ran back in the sink. Opening a compartment in a functional safe, he placed in it a stack of blank DVDs. A pile of jewel cases were ordered with numbers on their covers immediately next to the new stock. Stone-faced, he took another piece of paper from his pocket. How it had found its way to him, he'd never know. But it was bad enough that it had come within 5 hours of them. He'd have to think about it.

“Hey! The sink window's jammed, and Max wants to go out. Should I leash him?”

He shoved the piece of paper into the box. He'd destroy it later.

“Yeah. I'll be right there. Don't just let him out, he'll track mud everywhere.”

He locked the safe and shut the closet, locked it. As he moved to go out into the rain, he tried to tell himself that the paper's message was a lie.

Have you seen me?

No. She wasn't there, anymore.

I wrote it all down for you, with blood as ink to help explain the things I've always had the urge to say but never had the courage to voice. In the end, I suppose I never really had a chance or a choice. And maybe I'll just burn this letter in the bonfire, never having crossed your mind or eyes, let these secrets and desires turn to embers rather than bitter questions and angry cries.

If hearts are locks and love's the key, then mine is bent and rusted. I know you inside and out and still I never trusted every time you said you cared. I am not willing to open up despite your insistence. I admire your persistence but sometimes the hinges just won't budge. I'm a bank vault and you're a thief, a bandit. You stole my insides, my everything. Truth is, I don't want it back. I just hope you don't spend it all at once...and just for once I'd like to feel like a human not a thing. Instead I'm left here writing words to you who's gone away and wallowing in wondering.

So I'll sign this letter with a fingerprint and seal it with the same. They say red's for love but for me it's just...well, it's always been your name.

"Please..."

The word hung there, in the dark.

"Please"

A polite word. Taught to children. Be polite. Use please and thank you. Thank you was another word she would be using soon. That much she knew. But right now, the only word she could utter was... please

Please could she have the key back...

She would never do it again. She would never dream of leaving that room, let alone the house, again. She would stay in the darkness. She would beg permission. "Please"...

He had given her the key as a show of trust. It had taken a long time. A very long time. At first, she had been chained. For so long, she had been chained. She had begged then too, but it did no good. Did he even hear her? Her plaintive begging to be free'd. She would never tell anyone. Just let her go. Please.

She had used that word then too.

He never answered. Did he even hear her? He heard her begging screams of pain and pleasure. Heard the "slap" of leather to skin as the belt, and then the whip, struck home. Heard her screams. Heard her sobs. Her her beg, plead. Heard her moans of despair, or was it want, need, as he slid himself deep within the tightness of her body. Heard the wet sound of skin on skin, moving, caressing. Heard the depths of her breath, even as he tightened his hands about her throat, silencing her for a moment or two. Heard the gasps as she takes in life again in deep harsh breaths. Heard her crying for him to stop. "Please"...

That had been so long ago, she could not even remember how long now. It felt like a lifetime ago, she quietly thought to herself. She had worked so hard to get to this point, the point where he gave her the key...

The key to her room. The key to the home.

It had been a test. She knew that now, as she lay on the cold floor, in the darkness. It had been a test, and she had failed. Gone was the trust. Gone was her clothing. Gone was the light. Gone was the wind in her hair, the feel of grass at her feet.. Gone was any idea that she would ever be... free...

"Please..."

Gone was any hope that he would ever trust her again. Gone was the key about her throat on a delicate golden chain. In it's place, something much more simple. The black leather of his belt. Tight. Constricting.

"Please"

The belt tightened, his breathing deepened...

"Please what" came his growl...

"Please.... Master... " would be her only response.

The golden key fell from his hands to drop at his feet... and he stepped toward her......

Better Than A Broken Promise

He had courted her. Wooed her. She hadn't known at all what he could be like in the beginning.

He'd written down his feelings in pretty pink envelopes that smelled like the Dior perfume he had bought for her. Pretty things were her reward. For being a good girl. His good girl.

"You look lovely," he said as he unlocked her room and stepped inside. "Are you ready? Remember your promise?"

She nodded. "Can I see it?"

"Of course you can," He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a long velvet box. It popped open and the golden key glittered before her eyes. "You keep your promise, and it's yours. And everything it means."

Her eyes dragged up, fixing on his. "I promise." She licked her lips and smiled. Her long dark hair fell over her shoulder as she went to the wardrobe to fetch her shoes.

"You won't need those," he said, watching as she looked down at his feet, clad in his black leather dress shoes.

"But-"

The expression on his face told her that arguing was not in her best interests. Her eyes lowered to the floor and she knotted her fingers together, apologetically, in her own way. She walked back towards him, putting her hand on his chest.

"You know, I'd do it anyway. I don't need the necklace, it isn't about that for me," she whispered, her voice low, her eyes boring into his with truth.

He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, smiling at her. "I know. But it's my way of showing you that I'm thankful." He kissed her chastely on the cheek. "The cab's here."

She smiled. "I'll be the one in the summer dress." She kissed him back and padded out of the room, down the stairs and out the front door where the cab waited. The drive wasn't too far, dropping her off at the beach where a group of people were barbecuing and partying around a bonfire. She made sure to hang back a little, waiting until she could slip into the crowd unnoticed when someone came up behind her.

"Beer?" He waggled a bottle in her face.

"Oh, eh... Thanks," she stammered, taking it and drinking it quickly. It made her burp a little and she wiped her mouth. "It's cold."

"Yeah, we brought a cooler. I'm Tommy. Are you here with anybody?"

She bit her lip and shook her head. "No, I was waiting for my friend... But I can't find her."

"You come with me then, sugar. I'll keep you company. 'Nother beer? What's your name?" He smiled widely at her. He seemed like a nice boy. All muscles and tan, surfer shorts and sun bleached hair. He was around her age too. When he put the beer into her hand, his fingers touched hers and made her think of summer nights at high school, kissing under the bleachers and the distinct smell of popcorn. The sweet kind, not the salty, she'd never liked that.

She thought, hard. It had been so long since he had used her name. She looked at Tommy's shirt. It was emblazoned with the big 'S' from Superman.

She just shrugged.

" You look like an Audrey Hepburn," he said, smiling at her as she sipped her beer a little more delicately this time. "Or maybe that chick off the TV show..."

"Specific," she said with a grin.

"Hey, c'mon," Tommy said as he took her hand, pulling her towards the dancing group by the bonfire. Her eyes widened with alarm as he touched her, not mistakenly this time. "Dance with me, Audrey..."

She couldn't help but smile.

Four beers later and she was dancing up a sweat. His hands were all over her, their bodies mashed together as the music pounded in their veins. It was primal, everyone crushed together around the bonfire, dancing in the flickering flames. She screamed in delight, her promise long forgotten, the meeting time long past. Tommy leaned into her.

"Do you wanna get out of here?"

She nodded enthusiastically and let him grab her hand and drag her away from the fire, away from the crowd. She was drunk, hot, and suddenly very aware that she needed to pee.

"I need to pee!" She yelled into his ear, even though there was no music. "I'll be right back!"

Tommy waved absent mindedly, his beer in his hand as he urinated on the beach. She climbed up the dune and found a little spot behind a shrub to relieve herself. As she squatted, she looked up at the night sky. The stars were all out, and once she had pulled her panties up, she stood staring up at them in awe, marvelling. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen such a beautiful night. She couldn't remember the last time she had been out dancing and drinking. She was enjoying herself, by herself, and suddenly felt a surge of independence. As she made her way to the height of the dune again, she looked down to the beach. Tommy was gone, and she pouted. She looked down at her watch, holding it up so she could see it in the moonlight.

"Shit!" It was almost 1am. She was two hours late. Her hands grew cold almost instantly, her face worried as she took off running to the place she was supposed to meet him. There was a lifeguard station a mile up the beach, and she made it in fifteen minutes. But it was empty. There was a bucket of water with ice floating in it, a white rose trampled into the sand. Her stomach knotted. "He's going to be so mad with me..." She looked up at the moon, wondering if she could find her way back to the house, or should she just stay here. He was going to punish her, she knew it. Tears prickled at her eyes and her mouth went dry as she sat down, weighing up her options. It had been so long since she had been outside, alone. Maybe this was a test. She knew if she ran back to the bonfire, that he would find her. It would be worse for her if she tried to run, she knew this from the one other time she had done it. She looked around the sand, seeing his footprints with the pointed toe of his shoe. Giddy, she followed them up and up into the dune until the wind had stirred the sand and she was lost. He had no name to her, he was just Sir, Master, Daddy. But they were his secret names and she couldn't call them out.

He had trusted her, and she had failed him. She wandered in the dunes, her hands lazily stroking the high grass that whipped around her thighs. Her voice called out 'Hello' every few moments, but nothing was returned. She wasn't sure how to get home to him. She didn't remember her own home. There was only him, and nothing before. Eventually, she sat down in the grass, lying back and staring up at the stars as the realms of sleep began to take her.

It was the cold sand on her skin that awoke her, and the familiar feeling of rope against her wrists, bound behind her back. Her eyes widened, looking around from her position, flat on her belly, wearing only her panties. Her dress lay beside her, it had been neatly cut off and she cursed herself for drinking.

"I am His," she said, no fear in her voice.

"Whose?" Came the other voice. It was muffled and she looked around until his foot pressed her face into the sand. He bent down, blindfolding her. "I said whose?"

"I have a Master. He takes care of me. He loves me."

"I see. And do you love him?"

"Yes. I love him."

"Good girl." Those words. Had she passed his test?

"Master?"

Silence. She fidgeted a little, feeling with her feet that the bonds from her ankles were tied to stakes in the sand. She felt a knife against her skin, against one hip, gently slicing her panties off, and then the other side, leaving her exposed.

"You weren't there. You broke your promise." The sound of leather snapping in his hands made her flinch. "Tonight was supposed to be special."

She chewed on her lip. "I'm sorry-"

The crack of leather against her bare behind made her gasp. She pursed her lips together to keep the whimper from escaping as he brought the belt down on her one, two, three more times. One for every hour she had made him wait. "You're sorry?"

She nodded silently as his hand travelled up between her legs. Once she knew it was him, she had fallen back into trust again. His fingers skirted around the tops of her thighs and his fingertips danced over her lips, already moist. He knelt there, and spanked those lips with the belt, a little harder than she had been expecting. She flinched, and uttered a slight yelp. His hand fisted in her hair, pulling it hard as he leaned over her, hissing his words through clenched teeth. "You disobeyed me. You never disobey me. I am going to punish you for making me wait all these hours." His open hand slapped her cheek, reddening it. "I am going to punish you right here, out in the open, and I am going to leave you here for everyone to see your disgrace. See what a disobedient little girl you are." His belt bit down on the skin of her ass again, swishing through the air and making her scream.

She felt him move away, and then one hand gripped her face, forcing her mouth open. She felt his hand grip her hair again, pulling her up to her knees.

"Stick out your tongue."

She obeyed, and then felt him, already so hard, against her tongue, pushing her jaw down and himself into her mouth. Her tongue trembled a little, wanting to lick him, make love to him with her mouth the way he liked, but this wasn't about her. Both his hands were in her hair now, forcing her face right against his groin. Her eyes watered under the blindfold and she struggled to breath through her nose as she felt him push against her throat. She didn't make a noise as she felt him pull her hair hard, pushing himself in and out of her mouth, using her. She had been His long enough to know when he was ready to cum, and he was almost there already. She felt a pang of disappointment as he withdrew from her mouth, leaving her there, her tongue out, waiting. Waiting for him, as he stuffed her panties into her mouth.

Then there were hands behind her, untying part of the ropes on her wrists and instead tying each wrist to an ankle and bending her over. She could feel her nipples touching the sand and longed for his touch on her again. His hand moved along her spine from her bottom right to her neck, and made her shiver. She bit down on the satin fabric in her mouth, breathing heavily as slid his hand under her chin, raising her up again, touching her cheek with the tip of his cock, tapping the length of it against her face. She felt the tell tale nip of the clamps bite into her nipples and she groaned against her panties. If this wasn't about her, he was prepared to torture her for his own delight.

Some moments passed and she knelt there, untouched, feeling nothing but the gentle tug now and again of the clamps, making her quiver and groan.

"Now," came His voice again. "I think we should talk about Tommy."

She gasped, swallowing and shaking her head.

"He liked dancing with you. I saw the way you were with him. Did you forget who you belong to?" Teeth on her shoulder, marking her, making her cry out into the muffled dark. "Did you enjoy grinding yourself against him?" She shook her head, no no Master I didn't I didn't. The clamps squeezed down on her sensitive nubs making her scream against her gag. "Did you want him to fuck you?" His hand, yanking her hair back, his belt slapping her breasts one two three, one two three, for every hour she made him wait. "Did you? Fucking tell me!" He pulled the panties out of her mouth.

She wasted no time gasping in air and sobbing: "No no, I didn't, I didn't, I swear. We were dancing, and nothing happened, Sir, I beg you..."

His laughter was cold and caustic, and sounded so loud to her ears. "Look into my eyes and tell me you wanted him to fuck you." He pulled her blindfold off quickly. Her eyes were already on his. She looked up at him with devoted brown eyes, and he looked back at her with spiteful blues.

"I want no one to fuck me, Master, only you."

He tugged on the chain connecting the two clamps. "That's not what I asked you to tell me..." He moved behind her again and the belt came down on her ass, making her scream out until he bound it around her throat, pulling her back as she struggled to balance on her tied limbs. "You're wet. Are you thinking about him, or your Master?"

"Y-... you..." She forced the words out as he pulled on the belt, wrapping it around his wrist and gripping her hair, forcing her down so her face was turned to the sand as he thrust himself inside her. She was warm, and felt so good around him.

It occurred to her that he wasn't wearing a condom. Sir always wore a condom. But god, it felt so good to have him inside her, naturally and without protection. She was His, after all. Her eyes looked forward as he pulled her up and she could glimpse the bonfire below them, with the dancers around it, drinking and singing. He loosened the belt, letting it fall to the ground as he replaced it with his hand. She groaned, bending her head back against his shoulder as he fucked her roughly, grunting against her ear like an animal. She knew he was close.

"Fuck." The word spat from his lips as he gripped her breasts in his hands, pinching on the clamps and making her cry out again. She didn't care if the people heard her. "Fuck. Fuck." His hand gripped her throat again as he began to speed up, pounding her, his other hand dipping down and pinching on her clitoris, making her insides tremble around him.

"Master please... May I cum? If you cum inside me... May I?" She begged throatily.

He groaned against her, tightening his grip around her throat as his teeth found her shoulder again. "No." But her question had had the effect she wanted and he stiffened, shooting his semen inside her, making her, finally, His.

He walked her home through the dunes in silence, the clamps still on her nipples, the belt around her neck serving as a makeshift leash. His gift running down her thighs, her hands tied behind her back.

She had done better than the promise she had broken. And he would reward her over and over and again tonight. But there, in the moonlight, hanging on a thin golden chain that reached almost to her navel, was the glittering golden key. And everything it meant.

This piece is seriously over the word count - even by my standards it's long - and for that, I’m very sorry.
It also may or may not be included in a much larger project of mine but anyway...the image inspired and so, here you go!


Shelter and heat. Those were the priorities. It had been sunny and relatively warm when they'd arrived but once the sun dipped beneath the distant horizon that would change rather dramatically. The wind off the water alone would no doubt lower the temperature to something far less comfortable. Julianna knew that, the others didn't. Besides, they were far too busy making the most of their first experience of the ocean to do anything and she knew she didn't want to spoil their fun. While their journey to the coast had been relatively easy, whatever awaited them in Ora-Aequora wasn't going to be pleasant, by any stretch of the imagination. No, let them enjoy it while they could. She knew better than most the importance of the simple pleasures.

While they whooped and yelled and frolicked in the surf like over grown children, she set about combing the beach for dry driftwood for a fire and setting up a rudimentary camp. The years spent travelling came into their own and by the time Mithras and the others realised that they should help, the young Queen had already set up two tents and was sat beside a merrily dancing fire. Having dug two large circular pits into the sand, a boat apparently abandoned on the shoreline had provided her with her central poles. An oar sunk upright into the centre of the sand in each one was then covered with fabric from one of the packs, finally sand was packed on top of the material and around the edges to make sure it stayed down and would keep both the wind and any rain off of those inside.

“So, did you all enjoy yourselves?” She laughed when at last they were all sat around the campfire, every single one of them sporting windswept hairstyles and damp clothes.
“You never said how much fun the sea was!” Susannah was desperately trying to work out some rather severe looking snags in her long hair. The wind, sand and water combining to make sure she had her work cut out for her.
“Oh, it’s lots of fun!” Julianna smiled before Kostya cut her off.
“Just wait until you’re out in open water though in bad weather, then your opinion might change a little.”
Julianna shot him a weary smile.
“I think your experiences of the sea are probably very different to ours. This lot hadn’t even seen it until today.”
“Of course, your Highness,” The blonde man bowed his head slightly.

“So,” Dedra grinned, his face overly bright in an attempt at detracting from the slightly awkward atmosphere that had descended upon them. “What’s for dinner?”
“You mean, you didn’t catch us anything?” Julianna’s face was deadly serious.
“But…well, no…I mean…” Mithras floundered, the grey eyed tutor’s cheeks pinking with panic.
Julianna burst into laughter before he could worry himself much more.
“There are a few supplies left. We should be alright until we get to the town but it wouldn’t hurt to maybe catch a few fish to supplement what we have.”
“No enemy camps to steal from this time, huh?” Guillaume chuckled, trying in vain to get all of the sand out of his boots.
Julianna snickered back and the others simply looked blankly at the pair of them.
“Story from your travels?” Susannah asked hopefully, always a fan of hearing about the pair’s trips around the kingdom.
“From the Quest actually.” The Queen grinned, seeing the sparkle in her lady in waiting’s eyes flare even brighter.

“Well,” Julianna grinned. “It was just before the siege of the Black Castle. We’d been travelling through the swamplands for several days and after an incident with an oversized alligator, we’d lost all of our supplies.”
“An alligator?!” Kostya exclaimed with unexpectedly wide eyes.
“Oh don’t worry, no one was hurt. But it meant we were without food. We were camped on one side of the river that bordered Obsequious’ land and on the other side was his army, and all their supplies…”


“Just in case we do get killed in the immediate future, I would just like to say for the record, this is definitely one of your more stupid ideas!” hissed Rosanna.
“That’s kind of you to say so,” Julianna whispered back with a grin that Rosanna could almost hear. “But can I suggest we keep the compliments and ‘chit chat’ for later, like when we’re not up to our necks in freezing water and just a few feet away from almost certain death…” Julianna thought before adding. “And besides which, if you do get killed in the immediate future, it ain’t going to be my fault. I didn’t make you follow me…did I?!”
Rosanna, with some great difficulty, managed to bite back on a retort and settled for glaring at her friend in the darkness, deciding to save her comments for the return trip. If there was one.

The two friends had been waiting in the waters for nearly an hour, stood in the shallows at the far side of the river and directly above them, at the top of the riverbank, was a large tent. Judging from the smells wafting down to them, and the large numbers of soldiers flocking to and from it, it seemed to be some kind of canteen or food store. If the two friends were going to find a bottle, and a possible source of food and water for the rest of their group of adventurers, it was probably going to be inside.

“So, just how much longer are we going to have to wait here?” Rosanna stammered slightly, the water was cold and she was starting to lose the feeling in her feet.
“Until the opportune moment.” Julianna said darkly.
“Oh classic.” Rosanna rolled her eyes, almost certain Julianna had taken that line from some film or other. “You know, despite the legends, I think you might just be the worst leader I’ve ever heard of.”
“Ah, but you have heard of me.” Julianna smirked back. Rosanna held back a small giggle. Apart from the threat of imminent death, the freezing cold water and the fact they were worlds away from the lives they had once led, the pair of them swapping favourite quotes from books and films was almost like old times. “Just like old times.” She muttered to herself.
“ What is?” Julianna asked, confused slightly.
“ You talking rubbish!” Rosanna grinned.
“ Well, no time for idle chit chat,” The taller of the two started to haul herself up and out of the water and onto the riverbank, reaching back to help her friend follow her. “I think the opportune moment has arrived.”
Julianna motioned up the bank and Rosanna’s eyes widened as she saw a fresh wave of soldiers pile into the tent.
“You are joking…?!” Rosanna exclaimed, pausing dead in her tracks and forcing Julianna to practically push her up to top of the riverbank.
“No, if I was joking I would have said something like ‘What’s brown and sticky?’”
“I dread to think.” Rosanna sighed, closing her eyes.
“A stick!” Julianna replied, eyes sparkling madly and with a smile so wide that it threatened to split her face in two.
“You’re a nightmare.” Rosanna shook her head at the sheer stupidity of the joke, and in determination not even allow a grin to creep onto her face at it.
“I know,” Julianna beamed before looking through a tiny hole in the tent’s wall to see inside. “…Perfect…” She muttered.
“What’s perfect about it? I thought we were waiting ‘til it was empty to go in, not wait ‘til it was full and just hope we blended in with the crowd!” Rosanna whispered harshly.
“What fun would an empty tent be?” Julianna asked as innocently as she could, but the twinkle in her eyes gave her intentions away.
“What are you going to do?” Rosanna swallowed nervously.
“Just be quiet, trust me…and let me concentrate…I can’t do this otherwise,” With that Julianna sat back on her heels and closed her eyes, her expression relaxing leaving Rosanna with little to do besides roll her own eyes again before looking through the hole to see what happened inside the tent. She didn’t doubt her friend could summon whatever magic it was she was attempting, what she didn’t know was what that magic would do.

The guards were sat at large wooden table and benches, mostly stuffing their faces with meat and bread and guzzling at large tankards filled with what smelt like wine. There was a hum of noise as they chatted amongst themselves but a hum that became noticeably quieter as the door flap began to move back and forth in a breeze that they were all certain hadn’t been there before.
Then a cool wind whistled through the tent, causing several of the guards to exchange worried looks. A bottle of wine fell from the corner of one of the tables and smashed, the sudden noise making the guards sat nearest to it to leap to their feet.

“What’s goin’ on?!” Demanded a particularly large soldier, who looked slightly less than impressed that his break was being interrupted in such a manner.
“ I dunno,” came the vague response from those stood around him.
Then the candles and lamps started to flicker and the sound of laughing began to filter in through the air.
“What…what if it’s a ghost…?” a smaller guard with wide eyes asked, his sword clinking as he held it with a trembling hand.
“Then you should know that they can’t ‘arm you, shouldn’t you!” The huge guard practically yelled at him. “So pull yourself togevva lad!”
“What about the spirits of the swamp? Evil spirits trapped there by…Incubus…” The small guard’s voice got quieter and quieter, and he barely whispered the name of Obsequious’ father, wincing as the word left his lips.

“Nothin’ but kiddie stories!” Laughed the large guard but was cut off as all the lamps and candles were blown out and the laughter echoed loudly around them. Several of the guards could have sworn they felt cold fingers tickling their necks and pulling at their clothes. But none of them wanted to stay around to find out what it was. With a lot of noise, they all fled from inside the tent with, Julianna and Rosanna noticed, the large guard in the lead, running as face as his stocky frame would allow him.
The lights flickered back on inside the tent and Rosanna suddenly realised the laughter still echoing faintly around the tent matched that of the friend crouched by her side.

“Come on you!” Rosanna hissed, pulling her to her feet. “Let’s see what kind of mess you’ve made now.”
They slipped around the front of the tent and in through the door flap. Several of the tables had been turned over in the panic, food along with pools of wine and water littered the floor.
“Like you were saying before, just like the old times eh?” Julianna grinned broadly, eyes glinting almost as brightly as the sword in her hands. “You and me causing trouble!”
“Oh yeah,” Rosanna replied stonily, but nothing she did could hide the mischievous sparkle in her own eyes. “But don’t you mean…you causing trouble and me having to save you from your own stupidity, as per bloody usual!”
“Don’t worry,” Julianna groaned in response, as she swung the sword and sliced through one of the ropes holding up the door flap to the tent, momentarily blocking them view from those outside. “I’m sure I’ll be able to return the favour in the not too distant future!” She finished with wink, as she dashed over to one of the tables that had managed to remain upright and picked up a bottle of wine. She quickly cast her eye over the label with a thoughtful expression on her face. “Could be interesting…” She pulled out the cork and took a large mouthful. “It’s alright but…I think a vintage we can afford to leave behind.” Julianna held out the bottle towards Rosanna. “What do you think?”
“ I think you’re mad!” Rosanna exclaimed, while taking the bottle and taking a taste of the wine herself. “ But I agree,” Her nose wrinkled in mild disgust as she swallowed the liquid. “Not one for the road.” She casually slung the bottle over her shoulder, barely registering the tinkle as it hit the floor and smashed. “And now, if the wine tasting is over, just how are we going to get out of here?”

“ Well, I don’t know about you but I was planning on walking out of the doorway.” Julianna said slowly and in the tones of one explaining something particularly complicated to a small child, with an even smaller intelligence.
“Well I was planning that too, until you decided to announce the presence of something weird being in this tent to a few thousand soldiers camped outside!” Rosanna flicked her long hair over her shoulder. “A fact that I think might hinder our escape a tad rather than help it, don’t you think?”
“Pessimist!” Julianna grinned, sticking her tongue out before heading towards the rear of the tent, sheathing her sword and, instead, pulling out a small dagger and starting to cut through the strings holding together the corner of the tent.
Rosanna followed her, slightly bemused and decidedly nervous. Her large brown eyes flicked from the blade in Julianna’s hands, to the door flap of the tent, which was worryingly still. She watched as Julianna cut through the strings and started to unthread them, pulling them out as far as she could, which was up the sides to about a foot or so over her head. Then she wandered over to the opposite corner and started to do the same thing.
“ Erm. Wouldn’t it be quicker to just cut a big hole in the canvas?” Rosanna jabbed her finger into the material to prove her point.
“Maybe,” Julianna agreed around the dagger that she was now holding in her teeth as she yanked at the strings before dropping them onto the floor.
What Julianna had now done was to untie two corners of the tent, so that the back wall was no longer connected at the sides to the rest of the tent.
Rosanna pushed at the material and made to climb out but was hauled back by Julianna.
“What are you doing? Are you mad?!” Julianna exclaimed, still holding her friend’s upper arm firmly.
“Am I mad?! The phrase ‘pot and kettle’ comes to mind here!” Rosanna shook her arm free. “I was trying to get out of here. That is why you did this wasn’t it?!”
“You go out that way and you’re going to end up head first in the river and probably break at least one of your limbs in the process,” Julianna explained, as she started to look around the tent for something.
“So what did you do it for then?”
“You’ll see.” Julianna murmured, as she dragged something out from under a table, it was an empty pack.
“You know, I hate it when you say things like that…” Rosanna muttered under her breath.
“I know, why else do you think I say them!” Julianna laughed as she started to grab some of the bottles of wine that had survived and put them into the pack. “Now, why not do something useful and see if you can find some bread…or even some meat…whatever you can find…”

With a heavy sigh Rosanna started to do as she was asked, even though every other moment was spent eyeing up the door flap expecting a hoard of Obsequious’ soldiers to come piling through it. Soon they had crammed the pack full of bottles of wine, bread, cured meat and even something that smelt like a kind of dessert.
“And now what do we do?” Rosanna wiped her now slightly greasy hands on the backs of her trousers after placing a particularly large joint of ham into some cloth and then putting it on top of everything else in the pack.
“We go back to the others,” Julianna groaned a little as she forced the straps over the bulging bag and fastened them. “But we’re not going to rush, this weighs a tonne!”
“Oh that’s just great.” came Rosanna’s response, her tone showing it was anything but. “Marvellous! Let’s slow down our escape even more. Tell you what, why don’t we just give ourselves up, save ourselves the bother of trying to get away from this nightmare!”

“How high can you jump?” asked Julianna suddenly.
“What?” Rosanna’s eyes widened.
“You know, how high?” Julianna indicated various different heights with her arm in the air. “How high can you jump…?”
“Can’t say it’s something I’ve ever measured.” Rosanna shot back. “And why do I get worried to ask why you would want to know this?”
“What if you had a run up?” Julianna continued, seemingly oblivious to her friend’s concerns.
“A run up to what?” Rosanna demanded slowly.
“A run up before you jumped,” Julianna said plainly with a slight grin.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it Julianna!”

Julianna didn’t reply, she simply shrugged the pack off of her shoulders and started hunting around for something else.
“Alright then, if you won’t jump, then we’ll just have to find something…a-ha!” Julianna grinned triumphantly, holding up a length of rope. “This looks perfect.” Julianna began to tie one end of the rope around the straps of the pack and then tied to other end around a full bottle of wine before she took a few steps back, looking up at the roof of the tent with the rope in her hands.
“What now?” Rosanna asked, wandering over to the door to peek outside, before leaping back with a not completely concealed gasp. “And no need to panic, but I think they know we’re in here.” Rosanna was by Julianna’s side in a matter of moments. “There’s a huge group of them coming this way, so whatever you’re about to do…just….do it…”

Julianna needed no further encouragement. She swung the rope around in a wide circle a few times before letting go and the pair of them watched as the momentum and the weight of the bottle carried the rope up into the air and over one of the supporting poles at the top of the tent. The wine bottle brought the rope back down towards them and Julianna quickly untied it and started to pull, hoisting the pack of food into the air. After a moment or two of groaning and straining she threw Rosanna a pointed look.
“Are you going to help me or what…?”
“ Oh yeah. Sorry!” Rosanna quickly joined her friend in hauling the pack higher and higher into the air. Once it was dangling at the very top, Julianna took the rope and, pulling it taut, tied it to one of the legs of a heavy oaken table.
“Please tell me your wonderful plan isn’t to drop that on their heads.” Rosanna asked bluntly. “Because if it is, we’re going to need a hell of a lot more of them for the amount of soldiers heading our way!”
“Kind of…” Julianna admitted just as the door flap was flung open to reveal a large group of fifty or so soldiers. All with swords, clubs and axes drawn and none of them looking particularly friendly.
“Now what do we do?” Rosanna squeaked as the soldiers began to crowd into the entrance, inching towards them, preparing to charge.
“Hold this!” Julianna tried to take hold of Rosanna’s hands and put them onto the rope.
“ Why…what for…?” Rosanna mumbled, not taking her eyes from the black armoured warriors before them.
“Just hold on!” Julianna insisted as she handed Rosanna the rope, who grabbed hold of it without really realising what she was doing, until it was too late. Which was around the time she spotted Julianna drawing her sword and aiming it at the end of the rope tied to the table.

“Oh no…” Rosanna yelped. “Julianna, no! Don’t! This is a bad, bad, bad, bad, bad ideaaaa!”
But Julianna didn’t listen, she swung the sword and sliced through the rope and the two of them were yanked into air as gravity worked and pulled the heavy pack on the other end of the rope back down to earth. Just as the soldiers charged and passed straight under them and, with no fixed wall to stop them anymore, were sent careering down the river bank and into the river with a loud splash.
“See!” Julianna grinned proudly as she and Rosanna clung to the rope, now suspended just below the roof of the tent. A good fifteen feet from the ground.
“Oh yes, well done you. Bloody marvellous!” Rosanna retorted. “And now how do we get down, genius?!”
“Like this,” Julianna beamed before leaning back and making the pair of them start to swing.
“Stop it, Julianna! I mean it, stop it right now!” Rosanna closed her eyes tightly.
“Rosanna, open your eyes or you’re never going to get down!” Julianna exclaimed as she swung them a little harder.
“Alright,” Rosanna opened her eyes, pouting profusely. “But if I die, I’m going to haunt you until the end of time!”
“Fair enough,” Julianna couldn’t help but laugh at the certainty in her friend’s voice.

With that Julianna swung them even harder and then let go of the rope. She flew through the air for a couple of feet before hitting the central pole, holding up the whole tent. She grabbed it and slid down. When she reached the floor she let out a little groan, as she rubbed the front of her neck. “Ok, that hurt a bit. But! I’m not dead am I?” Julianna danced around a bit to emphasise her point while her friend dangled above her looking anything but convinced. “So, what are you waiting for?”
Rosanna rolled her eyes before copying her friend, jumping clear from the rope once she was closest to the central pole and then sliding down, with considerably more grace than her friend had done.
Julianna quickly untied the pack from the rope and hoisted it up onto her back.
“Now can we go…?” Rosanna asked, hovering near to the door flap. The sound of wet, unimpressed soldiers trying to scramble up the riverbank was getting louder all the time.
“After you.” Julianna bowed slightly as Rosanna rushed through the door flap, followed by a broadly grinning Julianna.

Julianna practically skipped across the bridge over the river, back to their little camp and eagerly waiting friends, some way behind Rosanna who had sprinted as if the very fires of hell had been on her heels all the way from the tent. In fact the only thing that stopped her running straight through the group of friends waiting for them and running straight back into the Swamp was Marius grabbing hold of her and hugging her tightly as soon as she was in range of his arms.
Julianna was treated to something similar from Guillaume who looked as though he couldn’t work out whether to frown or smile at her for a moment or two, almost like a parent torn between relief and anger when a runaway child is returned to them. He settled on a tight embrace and a kiss.
“Must you keep doing this…?” Guillaume asked, sounding thoroughly bewildered.
“Doing what…?” Julianna asked, handing over the heavy pack to the others and smiled as the gasps of delight and groans of hunger filled the air as the food and wine was unpacked. “Getting food…?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about Julianna. Running off at every possible opportunity to put yourself directly in harm’s way when there’s simply no need,” Guillaume grinned slightly, pulling her back into his arms and holding her tightly as if to prevent her running away again. “I waited a long time to find you and I do not intend to lose you any time soon.”
“Well, you’ve no worries there,” Julianna laughed, lifting herself up onto her tiptoes to kiss his mouth quickly. “Because I have absolutely no intention of getting lost! Now, come on…let’s get this wine opened, I don’t know about you lot, but I’m starving!”

He found the letter on a day that otherwise held no special significance. It was tucked neatly between two books on a shelf, no doubt placed there by her with the knowledge that he'd discover it eventually. He frowned at it when it dropped to the ground, landing like a little ramp on the toe of his boot. The book he was pulling off the shelf was replaced, and he bent to retrieve the letter. The handwriting on the front was clearly his mother's, an elegant script he knew as well as his own, and his eyes retraced the words over and over, etching them into his memory.

Everything I could never tell you...

He wanted to throw the letter into the fire, turn it to ash so her secrets died with her. She kept them secret for a reason, and he already felt his heart broken a little that he knew there were secrets. Knowing them may entirely alter his view of her beyond repair, and he couldn't live with himself if that happened. Where he lacked the strength to cast her letter into the fire, he would find it to put himself there.

But no. It was all useless thought. She had left it for him, and he would read it. He had too much respect for her to do otherwise, whatever may be contained within. The letter was carried to the small wooden table where he took his meals, his hands delicate with it as if it was a precious object. He set it flat on the table, the side with her ink on it facing up, and then lowered himself into a chair in front of it. A deep breath was taken, then another. Calming himself. The envelope was taken into his hands, and for the first time he realized the sturdiness of the paper, the expense she must've gone to for this. Gingerly, he worked open the envelope, and removed the folded papers inside. He was surprised at the number of them, and found a new vein of apprehension to tap into over what he was about to read.

My son,

I have watched with love and admiration as you've grown from the boy I cared for to the man who cared for me. I knew since the moment that I first saw you that I would do anything I could to give you the happiness you deserve. I am old now, and there is little else I can give that I already have not, save this one final thing.

I know you are not truly happy here. I can see that you love working the land with your hands, sweating under the sun and sharing with me the products of that sweat. But I will not be here forever, and I know you will grow lonely. You deserve more. So this, my beautiful child, is my final gift to you. This is a secret, passed down through countless generations of our family, and held now between your fingers.

It will be difficult. You MUST be careful, and follow my instructions exactly. To the letter. No exceptions. No deviations.

I love you, more than any of my words could ever tell you. I hope this helps you find the joy you are missing.

Curiosity had seized him round the throat, and he had no ability to resist it's relentless pull. The first page, containing her note, was set aside on the table, and he began to read the instructions she had laid out for him. By the time he reached the final page, he felt as if his world had been turned inside out. It was not a secret she had left him, but a bomb that fractured everything he thought he knew about the world and how it worked. He found himself wondering bitterly if she had found her way into insanity when she wrote this, and he had somehow missed the signs in her. No interactions with her, up to and including the day she died, had seemed out of the ordinary, and yet how else to explain what he had just read? It was... fantasy. Fiction.

He threw the papers down on the table and stood up suddenly, his legs pushing the chair away so it tipped and fell back behind him. Ignoring he, he crossed to his bed and undressed for the night. Sleep came to him in pieces, and always accompanied by odd and twisted dreams. He could practically feel the cool soil in his hands during some of them. Others, the soft warmth of her skin. He woke before the sun, and by the first light of dawn found himself sat again at the table, reading over what she had left him. None of it seemed to fit into anything he knew about the workings of life, but he knew he had to find out. Today.

The vital things were seen too quickly, and then he he gathered up his supplies and set off for the lake. By lunch, he had a full string of fish hanging between two trees, and was prepared to return home. Fish he caught were usually kept in a bucket, kept fresh until he was ready to kill and clean them, but she implored him to follow the directions to the letter, and so these were left simply to hang in the air, and die on the string.

Back at the farm, he found an area of land that was unused but with good soil, and he began to plow, mixing up the soil until it was loose and dark with the moisture of the earth. The fish were cleaned, scales and bones cut away and discarded, filleted meat left behind. Then, standing over the rectangle of land he'd prepared, he held the same knife to his wrist. His eyes were focused with an obsessive focus on the point where knife and skin met, and he saw the shake in the blade of the knife. Lids closed, he sucked in a deep breath through his nose, blew it out through his mouth, then another. And another.

Opening his eyes, he pulled the knife across his skin, his jaw clenching at the pain it fired through him. A trail of red was left in it's wake, one that grew and quickly spread, the blood running across his palm and towards his fingertips. The knife was pulled away, and he held out his arm and turned his wrist down, letting the blood drip from him and into the soil. As the first drops his, a count began in his head, marking each passing moment until he had left enough of himself in the ground. Strips of cloth were torn from his shirt and wrapped tight around his wrist. They would have to be sown up, he knew, but time was now of the essence.

Taking up the plow once more, he began to churn the soil up again, mixing his blood up in it, joining the two together until they were inextricable. The meat of the fish were laid atop the soil then, white fillets laid out side by side and then covered under a layer of soil. Using the flat of his spade, he flattened it until it was a uniform level and packed together.

By the end, he was drenched in sweat and utterly drained. He needed a bath, needed to sew up his wrists, and looking at his house from across the field, he found himself unsure he'd have the energy in him to make it back there, let alone attend to anything else. The spade became a crutch as he left the plot of land behind and started off for the house, stabbing into the soil and offering him something to lean on. Each step became harder, with the world sometimes swimming in front of him, the earth sometimes rolling and pitching under his feet. He fell at least twice. The last twenty feet, complete exhaustion stripping him of any pride he may've had left, was crawled on his hands and knees. The door wasn't even pulled closed behind him once he made it inside, and he slept that night and well into the next morning, dreamless and impossibly deep, on the floor.

With a start, he woke and sat up, confused at his placement and the amount of sun streaming in through the small windows. It was a heartbeat before it all rushed back to him, such a collection of odd memories that they nearly staggered him even as he sat on the floor still. He pushed his knuckles into his eyes to wipe away the sleep, and felt the cloth around his wrist brushing against the stubble on his cheek. He had to take care of that first, or risk infection. Climbing to his feet, he worked the wrapping free, and then stared with confusion anew at his unbroken, unscarred wrist. The wrappings, stained with blood still, were dropped on the ground at his feet, and he strode out to his field, unsure now what he expected to even find out there.

What he saw as he approached the plot of land threatened to erase his consciousness.

Laying there, neatly within the confines of the area he had plowed, was a woman.

She was naked, her breasts and belly and thighs soaking in the midmorning sun that rained down on them both. Her skin was dark, almost a deep caramel, just a couple shades lighter than the soil she laid atop. Her hair was darker still, the color of fresh soil, the waves in it somehow reminding him of the rows of crops sowed into his field every season. She seemed to wake as he arrived, and his heart stuttered his in chest when their eyes met. Her eyes were a light blue like crystal, like a bright summer sky, like clear water from a stream. Light blue like...

The skin of the fish he caught yesterday.

She sat up, slowly, her hands planted in the soft soil to help her balance. A light breeze swept past them, a reminder perhaps that not everything he knew about the world had changed so radically. And yet.

"Who," she began, her voice melodic even in it's hesitation, "Am I?"

He blinked at her, then blinked again. There was no frame of reference for him to process what was happening, no anchor his mind could drop in this strange waters that would keep him from drifting, at the mercy of this new and confusing storm.

She doesn't have a name.

It was a thought from nowhere, perhaps an attempt to try and ground this in some form of reality that he knew, and he let the words ring in his head again, the first thing he could hold onto here.

She doesn't have a name!

"You're..."

His voice cracked, his lips dry, his throat feeling suddenly like sandpaper. Swallowing, he swiped his tongue across his lips, and tried again.

"Your name is... Angelina."

Angelina. She was, besides his mother, the only other woman he had ever really loved. The teacher he'd had when he had attended school, where he learned how to read and write, how to add and subtract, in those years when he still had a father and wasn't needed on the farm yet. She was kind to him even when he struggled, gentle in her instruction, and she always seemed to smell like wildflowers.

"Angelina," she said once, the delicate blue of her eyes never leaving his face. "Angelina." She was trying the name on, testing it in her head and on her tongue, and then she smiled at him, bright and beautiful, and in that smile he felt some of the uncertainty and confusion in him melt away.

"I like Angelina," she said, brightly, still seemingly unconcerned at her nakedness in front of him, "My name is very pretty."

She moved then, climbing to her feet, her toes flexing and curling in the soil underfoot. For a brief moment she seemed unsteady as she stood before him, like a young deer trying to walk for the first time, but it passed quickly, and she fixed him in her blue-eyed gaze again. He was hit by her bright smile again, her teeth the pure white of bone
fishbonesfishbonesfishbonesfishb-
and that smile blasted away the remnants of any doubt or confusion he may have, and left behind only... her.

"I am Angelina," she said, with a proud certainty, as she reached out for his hand, "And I am yours."

Pink...

It had always been her very favorite color. Ever since she was a little girl. Pink dresses. Pink flowers. Pink blankets on her bed. Pink paint on her walls. Always.... pink....

She could never forgive Him for what He was doing to her... She had once been innocent, virginal, a sweet face amidst the common glances of the crowd. A high school cheerleader, popular, pretty, her prom voted her queen, a moment she would never forget. That night, after the prom, and yes, her gown had been pink... that night had been so special... She had told Aaron, her boyfriend, that she loved him. She had told him she wanted to wait until they were married before they consumated. That had been so very important to her. It was her birthday as well, her 18th. The night could not have been more special... It was all so perfect. Well, almost perfect... he didn't say I love you back, but she knew that was coming. She just knew it.

But... He took that away from her.

And it all began with that pink envelope. "Everything I could never tell you" neatly typed on the back. Slipped under the windshield wiper of her car, the day after the prom. She had slept most of the day, she'd been up late the night before afterall. She had thought it was from Aaron. It had to be. He knew her favorite color was pink. Was he telling her that he loved her? Was that what it said? Aaron was shy and romantic at the same time..

"I love you"

YES... she knew it... she knew he would say it, even if he did have to do it in a note.

But she was so innocent, so naive.

And now, her innocence, her life, Aaron, and even her love for the color pink... had been taken from her...He ripped it all from her, as she lay beneath Him, bound, gagged, trying desperately to scream, the only sound coming forth was a muffled moan, a strangled cry for help, for mercy, that no one would hear. Yet, he had not taken her... virginity, not yet. What was he waiting for? Was he saving the best, for last? He was over her, hands touching, exploring. Fingers pinching, twisting, teeth biting, lips suckling. Yet, he did not mount her, did not enter her. But in some way, this was worse. Get it over with, her mind screamed, GET IT OVER WITH!

But first, he had to mark her. Mark her as his. That first mark, it hurt, it hurt alot. Worse than most of the others He would carve into her flesh, because indeed it was the first. The only thing that hurt more than that was the brand. But that did not come til later, days later.

He had left her, bound to the bed, gagged, naked, and blindfolded. How long had she lain there, in the all consuming darkness, unable to see, unable to really move, and knowing that as loud as she could scream, if she could scream that is, none would hear her. So many twisting, frightened thoughts racing around her head, there in her darkness...

It felt like He had just left when He returned, strolling in. Even tho she could not see it, the look on His face was as normal as the next guy. As if having a naked girl tied to one's bed was as normal and expected as His morning coffee, or His pet dog wagging it's tail at His feet. Maybe for him, it was.

She couldn't see him, had yet to see him, but his footsteps, those she could hear. His breathing. And the closer He got, the more she desperately pulled at the ropes that held her, writhing, squirming.

It did her no good.

She already knew it would not.

He stood, silent for the moment, idly tracing around her body with the blade in held in his hand. "You're going to have to come to realize that your defiance is futile. Nobody knows where we are... " It was the first time she remembered hearing his voice. Had he said anything with he first took her? She wracked her brain, trying to remember, but just could not. That blade, caressing her skin.. was a bit of a distraction. And He watched, a smile growing on his features as he noticed tears beginning to well in her eyes, slipping down from under the blindfold. She was beginning to realize just what it was he was saying.

"Now... to make a mark..."

Blade to flesh, blood spilling, she screaming beneath the gag, sobbing, crying, begging. She could feel the warm lacings of her blood on her skin, the burning pain, sliced flesh. A mark... the first of many.

When would the markings end and the rape.... begin?

He admired his work. It was quite pretty, he thought to himself, a finger tracing along the edges ever so slowly. A smile curled his lips. Yes, that was quite good. He was quite proud of himself. This only validated that he had made the right decision, a decision he had made that very first time he had seen her.

And she never even noticed him watching her like that...

And as he pondered over that encounter and the mark he had sliced into her flesh, she wondered... would she ever.... be ... free?

All this because she thought then note in the pink envelope had been from Aaron. She had made a mistake. But.. the envelope had been pink. It was her favorite color. Aaron knew that....

"I love you"
"Meet me at the Fountain."

The fountain in the park, where they had gone on their first date.

She had gone... He loved her.. she knew he would say it. She knew...

Now... She was gone... And...as Aaron spoke to the police, in his hand he held, a pink envelope... and he was smiling....

Last Camp Fire

Sitting on my deck as the last rays of the sun set over the distant ridge, I watch quietly as my neighbors start a bonfire in their yard. Their kids running and jumping around, searching for the first fireflies of the evening to appear, so they can make their own personal lanterns with the ball jars they eagerly clutch. I smile as I remember back to the campfires of my youth and one that specifically sticks out in my mind.

I remember the fire dieing as the last of the embers glow red and the darkness descends fully around me. It was the end of the final opening camp fire of my last season at camp, though I didn't realize it at the time. The smell of wood in the air, the sounds of songs and skits drifting through my mind. Good clean fun to welcome a new group of excited, anxious and scared kids to their home for the next two weeks.

For many it will be their first time away from familiar people and places, and their new surroundings are very different from the urban decay and noise of the city. For others, seasoned veterans, it’s a return to a peaceful happy place where they can relax, catch up with old friends, make new ones, and have some fun during the summer. Each one will have experienced the same activities, cabins and surroundings, but each will form different memories that they will carry with them for years. I certainly did.

Though it’s been over 20 years since that last opening camp fire, I still carry with me many of the life lessons I learned and many of the friendships I made from that time and place. It was a world where “benevolent dictatorship’ was the rule. The Camp Director’s word was final, but there was, for the most part, logic and reason behind it. As a camper, it was transparent, you never saw the day to day decisions or workings that kept the machine moving. As a Counselor you knew where you stood, and you could be assured that, if your decisions were reasonable, you would be backed up and supported. There was also a comfortable understanding that even the decisions you didn’t like had a sound reason behind them. It’s the last place I ever worked where I felt that way, and I know I’m not alone in that.

There is a camp nearby that I drive past occasionally. I went up there off season once to look around. It’s very different than what I remember from camp. Heated and air conditioned cabins, Wi-fi on the grounds, more modern facilities than we ever knew, and I wondered if these kids got the same experience we did so long ago. I met the Director and we chatted about our camp memories from back in the day. He admitted camp is different now than it was when we were kids, but he felt it was still a valuable experience, a place for kids to learn and grow.

I wondered, do the kids get to run wild during free play? Do they get to hike and camp out overnight in the woods? Do they get to swamp a canoe in the middle of the lake? Do they get to sit around a campfire in their units after lights out telling ghost stories and occasionally snacking on a package of marshmallows snuck from the Kitchen by a resourceful Counselor? They probably do, some, but I can’t imagine that the rules today allow for the experience that I remember so fondly.

Camp was a time for exploration and growth, and it was a place for firsts as I transitioned from youth to adult. The first time I ever drove a stick shift was in a camp truck. The first time I ever smoked a cigar was in the woods with fellow staff members, hoping the smell would keep the bugs away, it didn’t. The first, and only, time I saw a ghost was on the main camp road. My first slow dance, first kiss, first love, first… umm… nevermind. The first time I rode a horse; the first time I canoed through rapids; the first time I was responsible for something other than myself. The first time I was mostly ‘independent.’ There were a lot of firsts.

There were also mistakes, there were dramas, there were arguments and there were moments of heart stopping panic, but in the end the mistakes were minor, the dramas small, the arguments trivial and the panic worked through. In the end we were a group of young people dedicated to helping kids get something out of their summer more than ‘hanging out.’ In the end we all experienced new and different things from our time at camp. We all took away something different, but none who were there came away empty.

I remember that camp fire vividly, I remember the dying coals and their soft glow as dusk turned to dark. I remember picking my way back to the main camp from the Council Ring along the old dirt road, and I can still hear the shouts and squeals of 150 kids getting ready for lights out. It turned out to be a great ending to my last great summer. How could I ever forget it.

As my thoughts return to now, I watch the kids play and the flames lick the wood in my neighbors yard. I listen as the sounds of the neighborhood slowly fade away with the sinking of the sun. I smile inwardly at my little jaunt down memory lane and I can’t help but sing softly to myself a bit as I sit and enjoy the evening… “Little rabbit Foo Foo, hopping through the forest.. scooping up the field mice and… bop… on the head.”

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NOTE: Though I did spend many years working at a Summer Camp during my misspent youth, this is a work of fiction.

An impossible choice ...


Word count - 710

[I'm not sure if this is prose or poetry? It started as the former and morphed more into the latter ...
... it is what it is ... and just wrote itself in the end ... hope you enjoy? ]

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