Writing Challenge ~ July 2011

[Britwitch]

WRITING CHALLENGE ~ JULY 2011​

*Britwitch hangs her head in shame*

Apologies for not getting July’s challenge up until now. Have been away from the reach of the internet for a week in the Scottish highlands and didn’t manage to get it posted before we set off. So, by way of an apology, there will be just the one challenge but I will put up both prompts I had lined up!! You can write a submission for each or try one that combines the two...as always, it's up to you and your muse!

So, without further ado, here are this month’s prompts...

http://i173.photobucket.com/albums/w62/Britwitch/WC_july_2011_1.jpg

http://i173.photobucket.com/albums/w62/Britwitch/wc_july_2011_2.jpg​

You can make your link to the prompts as obvious or as subtle as you like or use it simply as inspiration for something else. You can use part of the prompt, just one aspect of the image, or use it in its entirety.

The word limit for this challenge is 3,500 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 – Writing Challenge Review Thread

The deadline for this month’s challenge is Sunday 31st July 2011, with the first prompt for August going ‘live’ on the 1st!

Previous challenges and reviews can be found here.

Happy writing!

 

[marauder13]

Loss

http://i173.photobucket.com/albums/w62/Britwitch/WC_july_2011_1.jpg​

Jessica looked out her window at the drab, overcast sky. Her wan smile was the only feature of her reflected expression that came close to breaking the intense look on nothingness locked on her face. Halting, difficult movement swung her head to her right, looking over her shoulder at the small table in her room. A shuddering breath escaped her lips as she fully turned towards the table. The sweat pants she wore got caught on the window lock, and she mechanically freed herself from it. Her feet dragged as she crossed to where the table, along with a fresh pad of writing paper and pens, waited for her. No sooner than she had seated herself, her rich chocolate eyes filled to overflowing, and tears ran like raging rivers down her cheeks. Soft sobs filled the quiet of the room as her body was wracked by the heaving of her crying.

Eventually, the tears stopped, and she pulled herself upright. She viciously rubbed the evidence of her crying from her face with the sleeves of her sweatshirt, along with the clear discharge from her nose. She pushed her dark brown hair beck behind her ears as her lips became a line, almost nonexistent line.

She took up one of the pens, shifted the pad to a better position and took a deep breath.

Dear Tom,

Today marks one year since I watched the light fade from your eyes, and felt the last beat of your strong heart. Since that day, I have been empty. The world is gray. I feel nothing but the loss of you.

I can't believe how much you became a part of my life over the short time we were together. Without you, I feel that half of me is gone, cut away and never to heal. I miss being beside you in our bed, the feel of your arms wrapped around me, holding me firmly, gently, encased in the love you had for me. The feel of your cock, wet with our juices pressed against my red ass, is something that I truly miss. Even now, I can close my eyes and see that wonderful look of hunger in your eyes as you pinned me to the bed, taking me with the passion and lust that burned within you. To no longer have that burning look directed at me leaves me so cold now.

I am grateful that when you left me, that it was not like so many of your fellow officers have, in the line of duty. The doctors told me that you felt no pain in your final moments. I saw no pain in your eyes, but then you always were able to hide things from me with those eyes. You never lied to me, but you always were able to surprise me when you let the curtains drop from behind those lovely sapphire orbs of yours. But there was no hiding the dimming of them as your brain was slowly crushed by the leak.

Tom, my love, you were always the stronger of the two of us. I know you praised my courage and strength, claiming that being the submissive, I had those in greater quantities. But I only had them because you gave me the rock to hold on to. I have nothing to safely rest against to let them be useful again. No one showed me more about myself than you. No one guided me so carefully, so respectfully, or with such dedication as yourself.
​

Fresh tears rolled down Jessica's cheeks. She dropped the pen and screamed in frustration. Her anger drove her arms to remove the tears. She leapt out of the chair, running to the window.

"I'm sorry, honey. I can't go on without you." She ran and threw herself onto the bed, fumbling with the bedside table to pull open the top draw. She almost pulled out completely, throwing all the contents up to the front of the draw. She reached for the bottle of pills, her fingers brushing cold metal. She stopped completely, not even breathing for a few seconds. Her fingers curled around the metal, pulling it out. A plain set of handcuffs came into view, the key in one of the locks. Her eyes widened as her other hand came to caress the dangling metal.

Fresh tears wet her cheeks, but these accompanied a smile that brought her entire face along. She sat up slowly, looking around the room, her eyes desperately seeking out something special.

~||~​

Jessica sat at the table once more, the light green cardigan's sleeves pushed back above her elbows.

Tom, my love, please forgive me for my break in this. But I have to thank you, my deepest love, for once more showing me where I was going wrong, and how to get onto the right path again.

The man at the engravers gave me the funniest of looks when I asked to get them engraved. "Bound for eternity." on one, "Loved for eternity." on the other. When I saw them, I knew you were still watching out for me. They were what opened our eyes to who we were, and how we would love each other. Nothing warmed my heart more than having you slip them around my wrists, because it reminded me of how much you have given me since that very first time. Telling him that I had them from my policeman husband quelled the look, but only slightly. Until I told him that you died a year ago today. Then he nodded and did the work.

I know that you wanted me to continue with my life if you died before me. And I wanted to, but I found I couldn't. Today, my love, I have seen your gift, and I know that I can do it. But know this, Tom, someone else may own this body, and maybe even share my heart, but my soul is yours, and when I die, I shall join you and we will continue our journey together.

As I look down at my left wrist, both cuffs firmly encircling my flesh, I know that I now have that rock I once had, to anchor myself against to give me back the strength and courage you said I had. They will remind me of you, and in turn, remind me of the person you helped me find in myself.

Twice now, you have saved me. For that, I can never thank you enough.

Rest easily, my darling husband. I will live. With luck, I will love again too. You are my sun, and no one will ever eclipse you.


Your loving submissive, wife and friend,

Jess
​

Bright eyes full of life looked at the message to her husband. The pen was delicately laid beside the pad. She lifted her wrist to her cheek, feeling the cool metal of her husband's standard issue cuffs. She turned her wrist one way. Bound for eternity. Turning it the other, she read the other half. Loved for eternity. A triumphant smile graced her face as she stood up to resume the life that had been on hold for a year.

 

[wideeyedone]

Juliebeth watched the cream turn her husband’s coffee from black to beige. She stirred in two teaspoons of sugar. She laid the spoon next to his cup. Then she buttered his toast and spread one teaspoon of jam onto each slice. She could see her distorted reflection in the side of the toaster. The darkening bruise on the side of her face was obvious even in the chrome reflection. She took a deep breath and finished her morning ritual.


She had the toast on the table beside the paper before she heard his heavy footfalls on the wooden stairs. The sound of his heavy boots on the stairs made her hold her breath. For just a moment, the panic of last night filled her lungs and made her breathless. He had been so angry that he chased her up the stairs. She had known he was going to catch her, but she still had to run. She forced herself to take a deep breath and it burned where her bruised ribs ached. She wondered if the bruises would look like handprints.


He stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching her. She could feel him watching her. She nervously smoothed her cotton dress. She wondered if he was going to say anything about the night before, if he might apoligize or even acknowledge the fit of rage. He said nothing and took his seat at the table. She stood by the counter and found herself flinching when he reached for the paper. For just a flash, Juliebeth could feel the moment when he had knocked her to the floor boards, she could hear the cruel words and smell the fog of beer and sweat. She clutched the counter.


He silently ate his breakfast, the only sounds were him snapping the paper and setting his cup down on the worn wooden table. She turned her back to him. She took the knife from the butcher block and sliced leftover ham for his sandwiches. She slathered the bread with mustard and pressed the sandwiches together. She jumped with each snap of the newspaper.
When his lunch was packed, Juliebeth wordlessly offered it to him. He took it and grabbed her hand. She heard the pathetic whimper in her throat. He held her hand to his lips and his mouth kissed each of her knuckles.

“Juliebeth, I am sorry that you have that bruise on your face, but you can’t disobey me, you can’t make me angry and expect nothin’ to happen.” She nodded and lowered her eyes but said nothing. She blinked back tears. She begged herself not to cry until after he left for work. He kissed her bruised cheek and left with his lunch in hand. She held her breath and listened to his car start. She went to the window and watched his car rumble down the dirt road kicking up dust.

As soon as she saw his car turn onto the main road she ran upstairs. Her suitcase was in the top of the closet. She had to stand on a chair to reach it. She tossed it on the bed. She grabbed her two best dresses and emptied her drawer of underthings into the single suitcase. She got on her hands and knees and found the envelope she had taped to the bottom of the dresser. She had wanted to wait. She wanted to wait until she had saved a few hundred dollars, but this would have to be enough. She took the money out of the envelope and tucked in into her bra. He would kill her if he ever found out she had squirreled away money a dollar at a time from the change when she bought groceries and from his pockets when he wasn’t looking. She looked around the bedroom and tried to imagine what she couldn’t live without. There was a framed photo of her and her granny. That went into the suitcase and then she snapped it shut.

Julie beth left her ring on the dresser. She didn’t want any reminders of him if she managed to find a new life somewhere. She raced down the stairs. She knew she couldn’t linger, she couldn’t take any risks. She locked the door and headed down the road. The dust from his exit was still in the air.

She listened to the crunch of dirt and gravel under her feet. She prayed he wouldn’t come home, she prayed he wouldn’t look for her, she prayed she had enough money to get out of town.

 

[fr33ks33k]

Untitled

The shackles that bind us are rarely made of steel, but when they are the keys are always closer than we think. Running from your troubles, suitcase in hand, is not the best solution, nor is it the worst laid plan.

The bands of iron that we use to subjugate the masses are not nearly strong enough to keep them underfoot. The bags and bundles we use to compartmentalize our lives are not nearly large enough to contain the things we truly need.

When you place those handcuffs on my wrists, know that you will never tame me. When you run full steam ahead with that suitcase beating against your calves, know that you will never outrun the things you want to hide from.

The only way to solve the problems, break the cycles, beat the system....is with free hands, stood ground, and persistence. Maybe if we do that, we'll find some worth in this existence....

 

[Last_Rider]

Bracelets

I can feel the cold metal pinch against my skin, hear the unmistakable sound of the teeth locking into the ratchets as the cuffs hold my hands behind my back. It's a very visceral experience, my eyes close as the sound hums through me. The metal is compressing my skin, it might almost be painful if I allowed pain to register.

I keep my eyes closed, letting them escort me to the car, I almost smile as the one seems reluctant to touch my head. Not that I blame him. Poor dumb hick probably hasn't seen that much blood outside of a movie. These so called tough guys, they can kill all the deer, antelope, and cows that they want. There's something very different about people, and that's a fact they don't seem to know until after the fact. It's amusing, watching them react.

As the engine starts one of them keeps turning back to look at me, he's afraid to take his eyes off me. I grin at him, and he quickly turns back towards the windshield. I wiggle a little lower in my seat, legs raising, heavy boots pressed to the metal cage dividing them from me. One, two, three crashes. There's a reason for the plexiglass now instead of the metal cages. The upper left corner detaches itself as the driver slams his foot to the brakes, but it's too late. A moment later I've slid my hands down the back of my legs and they're in front of me, through the gap in the cage, and the chain connecting the bracelets is over his windpipe.

The other cop turns, but the quarters are too close for him to draw his gun and get a good line on me. Plus the drivers flailing feet are hitting the gas and the brake at random intervals, throwing the three of us everywhere. The lone constant is the pressure on the drivers neck, and the pressure on my wrists. The difference is bone, the cuffs will run out of soft tissue long before the drivers neck. To make that point the metal has cut into his neck, then the carotid artery goes and the windshield is drenched in his viscous blood as the passenger tries to stop the car, to draw his weapon, anything. There's blood on my arms now too, seeping from my wrists, but I don't care. The car suddenly dives into a ditch on the side of the road, then slams into the bottom and drives us all forward.

When I get my hands back on my side of the cage I kick out the window and open the door before moving around to the passenger. Idiot should have worn a seat belt. He's got the keys, and the bloody bracelets drop to the ditch bottom.

It's a nice night, and I close my eyes, savoring the smell of it.