I Wrote This Last Month

He breathed life into her cold soul,
Setting free the demons that had plagued her.
In his eyes, she saw a new beginning.
In his hands, she found heaven.
And in his arms, she found solace.

His lips sought hers,
Tormenting and caressing
Until they could no longer.
Warm kisses exchanged hastily,
As though the last may come too fast.

She laid her head against his breast,
Whispering her secrets to his heart.
He whispered secrets into her hair,
Breathing the fragrant softness with his soul.

He touched her heart
and broke it without much thought.
She stood atop blackened cliffs
Beaten by the angered waves.
Lightning flashed,
And the rain pelted her reddened eyes.

She walked in shadow,
Searching corners for her love.
He had stolen her heart,
And she wanted it back.

For an eternity, she sought it.
She begged him to return it,
But he claimed he had lost it.
Bitter tears stung her eyes,
And angry words bit her tongue.

“You once loved me,” she said.
“You once whispered your love to me.”
She stood before him;
Barren, lost, and hurt.

“I thought I loved you.
I whispered naught those secrets you claim.”
He stood defiantly before her,
Smiling wickedly.

She turned away, walking amongst the light,
With their lively hearts.
“I have lost you, mon coeur.”

Haunted by memories,
She shall ever be.
What once was,
And what will never be again.
She closed off to the world,
A daughter of the black.

-3/7/13

After a lengthy absence, I finally have something to share. I basically wrote this under the influence of Irish beer. I was interrupted by my sisters, so it may not be cohesive. Enjoy!

There are forty-five minutes until midnight, and the beginning of a new year. It’s a new year for the two of them, ushering in the anniversary of their first year of marriage, as well as the milestones of turning 30. He’s more relaxed about their birthdays than she is.

She is across the room, talking with a few friends, a glass of water in her hand. He watches her from across the way, feeling the effects of the second glass of beer he had, and finds her even more beautiful than she was when they left the house that evening for the party. She looks over at him, and smiles. He’s pretty sure she’s smiling because he’s on his third glass of beer, but he’s pretending she smiled because she is happy. He takes one last gulp, and walks over to her.

“Hello, darlin’,” he smiles, kissing her on the cheek and wrapping his arm protectively around her waist. She looks at him and smiles warmly.

All of her friends look at him, and are jealous of her. He doesn’t know why, he thinks he’s nothing special, despite what she tells him. She smiles again when she notices they’re staring at him, and not paying attention to the fact she’s talking about Santa Claus being her uncle.

“Will you ladies excuse us? I want to steal her away for a few minutes.”

“Go ahead, Colin. Having a good time?”

“I am having a great time. How can you not with such lovelies to admire?” He’s goading them, and he knows it. They flush, and he smiles triumphantly, whisking her off.

“You know they’re freely staring at your butt right now, right?”

“Are they, my love?”

“Well…after that invitation you gave them, yes.” She looks up at him, and laughs.

He leads her outside, to the deck outlined with clear Christmas lights, where he promptly presses a deep kiss to her lips. She kisses him back, giggling.

“You couldn’t do that in there?”

“Not really, no.”

“Are you suddenly against PDA? Because, in the past, it never would have stopped you.”

“Actually, I have a proposition,” he smiles devilishly.

“Well, you can propose it inside,” she replies. “It is cold as hell out here.” She walks away and back into the house. He is not too far behind, grabbing at her back as she playfully speeds away from him.

He catches her as she sinks onto a sofa in the corner, beneath the low light of an overhead light. He nuzzles his nose into her neck, and presses soft kisses up to her ear.

“What is this proposition, then?” She murmurs, smiling at the kisses.

“I propose we get out of here, and have our own little New Year’s party in our own house,” he breathes, kissing her ear.

“No, Colin. This is my first New Year’s party, and I want to stay here until midnight. What’s spurred this, I wonder? You were more excited about this party than I was earlier today. What’s changed?”

“It was this beautiful bird I saw from across the room,” he whispers, trailing his finger across her collarbone, leaving goose bumps in its wake. “She smiled at me, and I felt the need to bed her immediately.”

“’Bed her immediately?’ Have you been reading nineteenth century novels again? You don’t speak like that, even when you’re seducing me. You’re acting strange.”

“I haven’t touched those books recently,” he replied, pulling back from her. “I’ve cracked open a few of yours, though,” he retorted. “Is the whole ‘heaving bosoms’ thing your idea of an excellent novel?”

“Compared to your Game of Thrones­-themed books, they’re amazing. But to answer your question, no they aren’t my idea of a good book. I read them for a bit of a change from what I normally read, which has no sexual situations. Those books are the touch of HBO that everyone except religious leaders yearns for when they watch television. You’re well aware that I read books with far more substance than romance novels.”

“I could break out the Camelot cape I have in the wardrobe. I know what that does to you,” he smiles mischievously.

“Really?” She asks, getting distracted by the idea of him dressing up as a Knight of Camelot. “No, I won’t be distracted, even in the face of such a suggestion. I want to stay here through the end, and kiss you at the stroke of midnight,” she returns firmly.

“Don’t say ‘stroke,’ Olivia,” he groans, straightening up on the sofa.

“Okay, I’ll just leave you here then. I am going to go and talk with Alicia,” she laughs, kissing the top of his head.

Colin sits on the sofa, calming down, all while watching Olivia interacts with their friends. It seems strange to him that at this time the year before, he was totally single and wishing he wasn’t at this party. He met Olivia on his birthday, two months later. Five months later, they were married, shocking their friends and family members. Once he was ‘settled’, he went to grab two glasses of champagne. He spun to walk toward Olivia, when he met up with Gerard.

“Olivia seems happy,” Gerard voices, gesturing at Olivia.

“She’s over the moon,” Colin smiles. “I tried convincing her to get out of here, but she insists on staying.”

Just then, a ruckus stirs at the front door. Into the living room walks Declan, all boisterous and already drunker than someone should be before midnight. He makes an instant beeline for Olivia, which causes Colin to smirk.

“What is that?” Gerard asks, noticing Colin’s reaction.

“It’s Declan,” he returns, “Olivia cannot stand him. She thinks he’s loud, overbearing, and doesn’t like the fact he fancies her. The question is: how will she react?”

Colin stands there in amused silence. Declan approaches Olivia, and she turns just as he speaks her name. Her face contorts in fright and annoyance, as he pulls her into an uncomfortable embrace. Colin waits for the moment of truth: how will Olivia react? Colin is stunned when she puts on a fake smile and looks like she’s interested in what he has to say. She glances up at Colin, giving him the signal for rescue. He lets her fester a few more seconds, before walking over to them.

“Hey there, Declan. Happy New Year,” he smiles. Olivia looks at him in appreciation. “Here’s your champagne, baby-bear,” he voices, handing her the glass. Colin knows Declan cannot stand the fact that Olivia is married to him.

“Happy New Year to you as well, Colin,” Declan returns, putting on a fake smile. “I was just saying to Olivia it’s such a beautiful night.”

“Indeed it is, Declan. I have never seen such a clear sky on New Year’s Eve,” Colin smiles at Declan’s discomfort. Olivia shoots him a look. “Uh…there’s ten minutes until the New Year, and I wanted to introduce Olivia to some people. If you’ll excuse us, Declan.”

Olivia smiles brightly, zipping by Declan with a short ‘nice seeing you.’ Colin wraps his arm around her shoulder, and laughs. Colin and Olivia separate for a few minutes, and Colin finds a short moment to look at Olivia having a discussion with someone, occasionally sipping at her champagne and smiling.

At a minute until midnight, Colin pulls Olivia away from her conversation and they go to a part of the party where there aren’t too many people standing around, so they have some air. They exchange knowing glances, and smile as they sip their champagne. As the last thirty seconds tick by, Colin takes Olivia’s glass and places it on a nearby table. The last five seconds consist of Colin pulling Olivia to him, and kissing her deeply as everyone begin shouting “Happy New Year!” around them. Olivia squeals as he kisses her. Everyone around them has done the traditional kiss, and is now singing ‘Auld Lang Syne.’ Colin pulls away from their inaugural New Year’s kiss as a married couple, and he takes her hand and leads her out to the road, flagging down the only unoccupied taxi to take them home.

The ride home is filled with her giggling, since she normally doesn’t have a lot to drink, so she feels really loose. Colin takes advantage of her change in mood, and whispers everything he wants to do with her, which sends her into even more fits of giggles. After paying the driver, they walk down the lane to their tiny apartment.

“You are going to wear the cape and sword, right?” Colin looks at her in disbelief. “Because if not, you have left me severely disappointed. You promised.”

“I promised nothing of the sort,” he answered. Olivia pouted, snickering into giggles. “But if you wish me to suit up into armour, then you shall get your wish,” he smiles widely.

Olivia claps and jumps up and down in excitement.

They fall through the door, and the New Year’s festivities continue long after.

Embraced Part 2

I am basically writing this like I wrote Part 1, without a plan, and seeing where the wind blows me.

**************

I spent the whole of our lunch period sitting at the male-dominated table of Jonathan and his friends. There were a few moments where I contemplated getting up and leaving, because I sensed the guys were holding back from their usual topics of conversation, but I ended up sticking around because Jonathan wouldn't remove his right arm from my body. At the beginning his arm was thrown around my shoulder, and by the end, it had fallen right above my hip. I was sure my face was showing tell-tale signs that this unnerved me, but if it was, nobody was talking about it.

Embraced

I turned away from the phone, sad and angry. I needed a release, something or someone to get my mind off of what just happened. Tears blinded my eyes, and as I wiped them away, I walked right into him.

He was this unknown light in my life. When I was away from him, I missed his presence, the way he made me feel, how much he annoyed me. At that moment, all those thoughts disappeared.

He looked into my eyes, and bent to look me straight in the face.

"Are you okay?  What's happened?" His hands protectively grasped my shoulders.
"Nothing, I just made an idiot of myself, and I'm angry with myself."

He nods, and then pulls me into his arms.

This is a foreign feeling, being in a guy's arms. He's wrapped them protectively around me, and I feel safe and secure. I can feel his heartbeat, the heat of his body. He's like a comforting blanket during a horrible storm.

Flooded with pent-up emotions, I just let go, and cry into his shoulder. His hands instinctually come up to my shoulders, and he rubs my back as sobs shake my body. He whispers soothingly into my ear, rocking me back and forth, and his hands run up and down my back. I realize what I've done, and I pull away.

"I'm sorry," I sniffle, wiping my my eyes with my hands.
"There's nothing to be sorry for. You needed to cry." He opens his arms to me, gesturing for me to come back to the safety of his arms.

I hesitate, weighing the pros and cons of this. I slowly bring myself back into his warm embrace, and his arms gently enfold me.

"I'm keeping you from your lunch," I speak into his chest.
"It's a shitty lunch," he chuckles. "You're saving me from a possible death."

He pulls back, pushing my face up with his fingers.

"You feeling better?" I nod, sniffling more. "I'm glad to hear it. Why don't we go into the cafeteria?"
"Oh I couldn't," I moan. "Your friends will make fun of me, being the weak girl and everything."
"They'll do nothing of the sort. If they do, they'll have to answer to me," he smiles.

I look down at the floor.

He pushes my face back up, so I am looking him directly in the eyes.

"They will not make fun of you," he assures me. His hands are resting on my face now. His thumbs are wiping the errant tears away.
"Do you trust me?"

"Honestly? No." His expression fades. "But right now, I feel compelled to believe you. Don't fuck with me right now. I am vulnerable."
"I wouldn't dare," he laughs. He leans his head in, and kisses my forehead. "Let's go," he smiles.

As we enter the cafeteria, I can see the people whom I embarrassed myself in front of stare at us in utter shock. Jonathan and I are well-known for not getting along, for having stupid petty arguments over just about everything. Jonathan's friends are introduced to me, even though I knew who they were. For the outcast in school, I feel like Cinderella. Jonathan warns them not to make fun of me, and they reply they won't. They all inquire if I am okay, to which Jonathan lays another soft kiss to my head and tells them I will be just fine.

And for that brief moment, I feel like the world is right. Something has shifted in Jonathan's and my acquaintance. And who knows where it will go from here.

Something I Wrote a Few Years Back

I wrote this a while back, while living in Oregon. It was raining, and I was looking at my tweed coat hanging in the closet, and I just got this spark of inspiration. It's not finished, and I highly doubt I will ever finish it, or add on to it.

It had been raining all night.  I was awakened a few times by sudden downpours on my roof.  Besides the frequent rain, it was also unbearably cold.  And wouldn’t you know, I’d run out of coffee.  So I went to my favorite café for a muffin and café latte.  I was quietly seated in my corner; reading a book of Keats’ poetry, when she came in.

I’d seen her pass the window, dressed in her gray tweed coat, the hood pulled over her head to protect her from the cold rain.  I drew my eyes back to the book.  I heard the familiar tinkle of the door opening, and my eyes went curiously to the door, fully intending to go back to the book once I’d seen who walked in.  A shrouded figure entered, looking like some medieval character from a film.  The hood slowly pulled backwards; revealing an attractive woman with black hair.  Her quiet eyes slowly darted around the café.  She gently walked to the counter, her face reading the menu board.  She ordered a cookie and vanilla chai latte.

Once her order was ready, she sat at the table adjacent to mine.  She unbuttoned her tweed coat, and placed it on the empty chair to dry.  She walked to a cart with coffee tools to grab a napkin and coffee stir straw.  She looked my way, while I pretended to be engrossed in Keats.

  

“I love that book,” she smiled brightly.  “One of my favorite poems is in there.  Have you gotten to ‘Bright Star’?”

I casually glanced up. 

“No, I haven’t.  I think it’s towards the back, and I have made it my mission to read each and every word.”  I fidgeted with the cover while talking to her.

She shook her head, as if she understood.  “Well, good luck,” she whispered, going back to her table.  I decided to skip to ‘Bright Star’, to see what she was talking about.  And she was right; it was a beautiful poem.

Awhile later, she was finishing her chai, and putting on her coat.  As she walked to the trash can, I called out to her.

“I decided to skip ahead to read ‘Bright Star’.  You’re right, it is a nice poem.”

She smiled.  “That it is,” she replied.  “I’ll see you around.”

 ********

For the next week, I went to the café, hoping to see the woman in the gray tweed coat.  And never once did I see her.  Dejected, I went back to my normal home coffee brewing routine.

I was at the grocery store one afternoon (although it looked like evening) to do some impromptu shopping, when I saw a tweed coat.  My heart skipped a beat, and when I got closer, I realized it wasn’t her.  Depressed, I kept going.  In the produce department, I was thumping a cantaloupe, when I saw a tweed coat.  I wasn’t about to depress myself yet again, so I walked toward the broccoli.

“It’s the guy who was reading Keats at that little café,” I heard a voice cry behind me.  At this point, I believed my brain was playing tricks on me, so I kept walking.  “Hi!”  Deciding to play along, I spun around.  It was her, in all her gray tweed coat glory.

“Hello,” I spoke, hiding the enthusiasm that was raging within me.  “What are you doing here?”

She grabbed a pomegranate.

“Choosing fruit,” she smiled.  “Amongst other stuff.  I came home from work last night, and noticed I had no freaking food.  Besides, I heard there’s a blizzard on the way, and I want to make sure I’ve got enough food in case I’m snowed in.”

“Of course.  Same here, except for the blizzard thing,” I smiled.

“How is the Keats reading going?”

“Quite nicely, thank you.  I keep going back to ‘Bright Star’,” I spoke.

“Yeah, it has that power,” she chuckled.  “Well, good luck.  I should get back to shopping,” she smiled.  I nodded, and said goodbye.

Fade to Black

It looms around me, the darkness.

It may be light outside,

But it’s bleak and lifeless within these four walls.

I feel claustrophobic,

The air quickly leaving my lungs.

My heart bursting to pieces about me.

He says he needs space,

That the timing wasn’t right for us.

I looked up at him,

My eyes brimming with hot salty tears,

And I just nodded.

I should have called him a fucking asshole.

I should have said more than just “okay.”

What the hell is wrong with me?

I got up from the table,

Took my things,

And walked out the door.

And here I sit in my house,

Staring blankly at the walls,

Listening to sad music.

I cry at the drop of a hat,

And anything gets me started.

I’m in a fog,

Numb to the outside world.

I’ve cut off all contact from friends and family.

Their words do not soothe me,

Nor will they make me feel better.

I feel as if all is lost.

Lost in some dark forest in a mythical land.

The fog closes in,

And the world fades to black.

Dreaming For You-A Review/Summary (Spoilers Inside)

I have just finished watching an independent film written, directed, and produced by Eoin Macken. I've been interested in Eoin's work for a few months now, and his own projects, which he is slowly releasing for fans to see are incredible.

Dreaming For You is no different. I was unable to watch it via the site he was using, because it cost money, and I am unemployed. I was going to continue writing this story I started last night, but having seen on YouTube that he had posted this film, amongst two others, I stopped what I was doing and watched it. 


I will post the links to his various films at the end of this post.


The review follows the page break. Continue if you don't mind spoilers, or have seen the movie.

August 28, 2009 Story

This story is unfinished. I also apologize for the date format possibly being incorrect. I am not European, but I deeply appreciate and am fond of their unique date format. I know that the date format in the story itself may be totally wrong, but I became confused.

10 October, 1902

Today my life has ended. The light in which I navigate has burned out, and is never to be re-lit again. How can one sum up such an experience? I deem it impossible.

17 October, 1902

Today, I buried my husband. I can scarcely believe it myself.  It feels as though my soul has been ripped from within me, and my air is out of reach.  I cannot possibly summarise the agony I am in.  With some help from James's close friends, I finally got out of bed four days later.  Thankfully, our own mothers helped me with the funeral arrangements.

Ava

Part 2 of Unnamed Story-From Christian's POV

I am not very good with describing physical confrontation (not that I have really tried), so you'll have to forgive me if it's not very descriptive. I also apologize if how I wrote out 30 Euros is wrong. I am American, so I am not good with foreign currency outside of England.

I'll Come Up With a Title Later

I came up with the concept of this story last night, as I was trying to fall asleep (usually when my ideas for stories happen). As a disclaimer, I want to say that I have never been in this situation, and that this story is a work of fiction. If anyone in the real world has been in this situation, you have my heartfelt condolences.