Enchanted

I couldn’t sleep with the need to see you, so I have come. You’ve held me captive from the moment we met, my mind is a prison dancing with your image, your song, your laugh. My thoughts know nothing else.

You are an artist in your seduction, flirting and flickering around me. Preening, then darting off coyly. You trap me with your enchantment, like a nymph, a will-o-the-wisp.

You gaze at me gently, your skin pales as your love trickles from your fingers in delicate lacework of red, pools at your feet that shiver with every drip, every tiny giggling plink.

Your graceful fingers reach out to touch me, then shy away, beckoning and flirting, the smile glimmering in your eyes as you pout and pretend to be upset, candlelight shining from your manacles like the brightest gems.

But soon you give way to me, relaxing against me in our embrace, weak to your desire. Your hips sway to the rhythm of your chains across the concrete, your movements rich with your love of turning all the world into a song as we dance together in this prison I have come to love.

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Archeon Tarot Prompt: 9 of Swords. 196 words. More tarot stories.

P.S. – So we moved back to Tulsa (sigh), and discovered our “house sitters” left us with massive projects like dealing with where they moved a washer with water in it to slowly leak all over my daughter’s bedroom floor the entire time we were gone. Yes, there is mold. This is only one example. My point: looks like I’ll be busy with repairs over writing, the reposts will go on for a bit.

Vigilante

In the shadows he paused, listening. He took a steady, silent breath, scenting her out. He tasted the air with his tongue, confirming, seeking direction. He walked into a room full of polished wood and the scent from old books. The well-oiled leather chair barely whispered when she turned to face him, a look of surprise not yet upon her face.

He smiled. “You are vile, corrupt, heartless, and doomed. You stand on your shiny money and claim credit for work that is not yours; you lie to the people. You are a stain. You have convinced the city that your generosity and community outreach are responsible for the safety of our children but it is ME. I am the reason these streets are safe, ME. You lie and use your wealth to hide your true nature, your crimes, and you will be destroyed for the good of all.”

She tilted her head before she replied. “A monologue? Are you serious?” She sighed and stood up, brushing the wrinkles from her slacks. She took a step toward him, slinking as her heels traced the winding vines along the carpet. “You are motivated by instinct, a drive you barely understand yourself. An attempt to right wrongs done to you that can not be corrected, over and over and always with fail. You are little more than an animal. You deserve no credit.”

He did not anticipate this. She didn’t seem the least bit frightened, and it was beginning to chill him. She seemed to notice, and the way she moved her head as she looked him up and down reminded him of a snake. “Did you really think that if you sought out those with few ethics, that you would not find one with a darkness to match your own? Sweetheart, I am no mere white-collar criminal or one of the thugs you’ve been whetting your bloody appetite on. I’m just as much of a monster as you are, only more intelligent.”

“I am not a monster! I am a hero!”

“Tell that to McClary’s widow. Or the Johnston kids. They don’t have anyone left.”

He had no response, growing more pale as he noticed the silencer on the gun she had apparently been holding all along. “Did you think you were the one hunting me when you saw my press release? It was easy to draw you here. You are blatant, predictable, and drawing too much attention to my neighborhood.” He stood, waiting for her next words, as her gun hissed and the wall behind him splintered.

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Archeon Tarot Prompt: card. 429 words. More tarot stories.

P.S.- Due to ongoing technical difficulties and a smattering of small but plentiful real world things to take care of, I’ll be reposting from my cell phone for a few weeks.

P.P.S. – Fairly certain I won’t be buying a refurbished laptop ever again.

Our Children

We sat together, you and I, with our families. We cheered for our children as they threw their caps in the air. We clapped until our hands were numb and we roared ourselves hoarse. Your son embraced my daughter, and they ran together into the night to celebrate.

They ran as far as they could run, to the edges of the world. She followed him as he ran, he was her guiding light. Why he ran, well, you likely know more than I.

They ran, and they stayed, and they put down roots. From such a distance, all looked gleaming, and happy, and lovely. No one knew.

He took her compassionate heart, and stewed it in pain, then slowly sliced off a little bit at a time to savor for his own needs, watching her writhe in his shadow.

I used to bring her to this park. When I heard she was gone, I would come here. I thought it would help.

I like it more when it is empty. We only have the crickets and dewdrops to keep us company. I don’t have to feel the echos of laughter and clinking of swings as chains binding my heart. I like it as it is now, when the streets are as empty as the churches.

That will change soon, when the dawn calls to the sleeping children and the families start moving about. I will leave you for now, but you will have company soon. Someone will come along and wipe the dew from your eyelashes, the blood from your mouth. Someone will clean you up before you go off into the darkness to be greeted by the monster son you made.

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Zombie Tarot prompt: Justice. More tarot stories.

P.S. – This is a repost. I just got my replacement laptop charger in the mail about an hour ago, I’ve been without one all week. To make up for this faux pas, here’s a pic of my puppy.

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This is a Big Day, Post One

There will be two posts today, and the first contains a bit of writing that is non-fiction and you should read it because it is very well written *cough*.

It’s not on this blog, because it’s on a new blog, a blog that will only discuss my non-fiction life as a…. um… me. I mean, the things I do range from chasing bees with a camera to writing horror, learning to train dogs, and this thing coming up that I will post later today that I find even more exciting than opening a new blog.

That blog would be www.scribeofshadows.com, and if you like my fiction, you can now be happy that I won’t be interrupting it with “hey, check out my dog” or “fuck we’re moving again”. Just smooth, uninterrupted fiction with the occasional brief P.S. If, on the other hand, you enjoyed back in the day when I talked about my life more…. you know, I’m going to detour here a bit.

I have a fan. This is cool, this has provided me with motivation. There’s a person in real life that I shared a link to my blog with (because I had just moved in to her Staten Island house and thought she might like to see what I wrote about it), and she ended up liking my writing so much, she said she wasn’t a reader but she couldn’t stop reading it, and she actually texted me recently asking if I had written any more non-fiction. When I told her I was thinking about starting a non-fiction blog, she asked me about a month later if it had gone up yet.

Y’all. I’m not even published yet, and I have an actual admirer. I’m just tickled pink. So, Mary, you’ll be happy to know that blog is now live, and if you subscribe to it, you’ll be emailed when I write a non-fiction piece.

I bet it was that bit where I started talking about getting trampled in pre-Katrina New Orleans, on the evening that ended up in a warehouse surrounded by hippies and cops. Oh yeah, and the mayor. Police commissioner. Cool party.

Fuck. I don’t have anything to put on the featured image. New puppy it is. Stay tuned though, later today there will be a more fiction related update that I know you will enjoy.