Fiction Friday Finale.

As you’ll know, I took part from week to week in Fiction friday, courtesy of Miss Silk. However all good things come to an end, and sadly, so has Fiction Friday. It’s been an intense 12 weeks but very enjoyable, and I’m honoured to have taken part in it. So, here’s this final week’s offering from moi.

Raindrop Freedom.

The rain poured down and thunder rolled. Leann gasped and held her hands out to the rain, letting it pour down her fingers. Glancing over her shoulder she ran. Through the slums and the Shanty Town called Saswasdee. She had to get away from here, and quick. Gasping and soaked to the skin Leann fled into the rain.

The sun started to sink slowly down behind the horizon of the ocean. There was nobody around, and a deep peaceful stillness surrounded her. The only sign of her being there were the footprints left behind her as she walked barefoot through the wet sand. Breathing deeply, Leann smiled to herself and turned to sit and watch the setting sun.

Leann shivered in the cold of the hut. She had no idea where she was. Her captors had brought her here and locked her in this room. What had she done? She wondered. Leann had been walking through the open air bazaar in Chiang Mai when out of nowhere a man had grabbed her and with one hand clamped over her mouth to prevent screaming had dragged her down a dark alley where a van had been waiting. The man had thrown her in the back, climbed in after her, and the van had sped off.

The lock clicked and the door swung open. Two men entered. One was small slim, dressed in an immaculate dark suit, with slicked back jet black hair, and the other was tall and muscular in a pair of dark pants and a sweatshirt with dark brown hair that appeared to keep falling in his eyes. He brushed it back impatiently as Leann watched and shivered. The small slim man walked towards her, and in thick guttural english demanded
“Where is Sunan?”
Leann shook her head mutely.
“Where is he?” demanded the man again.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about” whispered Leann.
“Who is Sunan?” She asked quietly.
She was not prepared for the hand that came from nowhere and made contact with the side of her face. Leann gasped as tears filled her eyes and her cheek stung.
“You will stay here until you tell me where Sunan is” growled the man.
He growled something to the tall man, and left the room, leaving the tall man with Leann.
She pressed herself against the wall as he sat down opposite her and sighed.
“My name is Niran” he said.
“It means Eternal in Thai”
Leann didn’t reply for a minute.
What do you want with me, and who is Sunan? She burst out.
The man frowned.
“You do not know Sunan?” he asked.
Exasperated Leann said
“No!”
Niran sat and appraised her for a moment longer, then stood and walked towards her. She realized a split second too late what he had in mind, and his hand covered her mounth as he lifted her and carried her over to the cot.

Leann straightened her clothing as hot tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t believe what he’d done. He had degraded her in the worst possible way after trying to catch her off her guard. Well it had worked, she thought furiously. He had made it seem like he was going to try and help her. The door swung open again and leann hastily wiped her eyes as Niran re-entered the room holding a large embroidered shoulder bag stuffed with something. Standing in the doorway, he quietly said
“Come, follow me”
Leann hesitated and he urged her on.
“Hurry, we don’t have much time!”
Cautiously Leann stood and followed, he led her to a door and opened it.
“Take this with you, it will get you a flight out of Thailand, go down the alley and turn right at the end, it will bring you out to a main thoroughfare where you can get a cab to the Airport” he told her. Leann stared in amazement.
“You’re letting me go?” She whispered.
“GO! Go now! We don’t have long” Hissed Niran and shoved her outside and slammed the door shut in her face. The rain poured down and thunder rolled. Leann gasped and held her hands out to the rain, letting it pour down her fingers. Glancing over her shoulder she ran.

The sun started to sink slowly down behind the horizon of the ocean. There was nobody around, and a deep peaceful stillness surrounded her. The only sign of her being there were the footprints left behind her as she walked barefoot through the wet sand. Breathing deeply, Leann smiled to herself and turned to sit and watch the setting sun. A shadow fell in front of her, and Leann stood, turned and threw her arms round the man standing behind her. She drew back and smiled up into his face
“How’s my wife?” asked Sunan gazing down at her.

I really enjoyed writing this once I got into the flow, it started off a little slowly because I had only one sentence and didn’t know where to go with it. I don’t think I did such a bad job in the end. As this week is the finale, I guess I’d better link to the others who have also participated. There’s some beauties that have been written this week for sure. So, here we go.

Jeffers has joined us this week albeit a little late with a freaky story that has a personal connection to both of us. It’s NOTHING like his usual style.

Miss Silky offers us a heartwarming tale this week. Not at all her usual style.

Phoenix has been the star of the show all the way through with a contiuning saga that’s been very consistently well written all the way through.

Rina has a delightful offering this week. It tugs on the old heartstrings without a doubt.

Nugget gives us a glimpse into another world and arouses the senses. Great Stuff.

Go read these people. It’s a shame not to. And as usual, any feedback would be appreciated in the comment section.

Ciao.

Latest Story

This story started out with my intention of it being a monologue, but as I got through it, it’s turned more into a letter. I don’t know what I think to it, it’s not my usual style where I try and add a twist to the end, but the end is something that I’m happy enough with. So anyway, picture then story, and feedback as usual in the comment section.

Justice Is Served.

I remember the day it happened like it was yesterday, although I’ve thought about little else for the last ten years. Ten years in Solitary Confinement does that, gives you time to think I mean. But, back to that day, yes, I’d suffered yet another beating at the hands of my Husband, I’d left the Bacon under the grill for too long you see. So, he beat me with the usual, his Baseball Bat, never where anyone could see the bruises, oh no, he was too clever for that – or so he thought.

You see, my mind had started to clear, I was starting to realize I didn’t have to put up with it. But ten years ago, we didn’t have all this “Battered Women’s Shelter” nonsense or anything, and the Samaritans were useless, still are for that matter. So I did what any woman desperate for escape would do. I killed my Husband.

He came home from work that day, and he’d started on me as soon as he realized that I was still preparing Dinner, as opposed to having it ready on the table for him. As he placed his filthy hand on my shoulder to turn me, I spun round, and quick as a flash, stabbed him with the bread knife. Something at that point took over, and suddenly stabbing him once wasn’t enough. Before my poor soul of a Husband could recover I plunged that knife right back in again, over and over, even after he fell to the floor.Blood splattered everywhere, on the floor, up the Kitchen Cabinets, up the walls and even on the ceiling. I was plastered from head to toe, and panting like a dog in heat. I drove the knife in one final time, right into his heart, and left it there, with the handle stuck out, looking for all the world like Excalibur’s Sword. Then I picked up the phone, dialed 911 and calmly told the operator that I needed the Police and Paramedics because I’d just murdered my Husband.

In my mind, I can see the shock on your faces. But I wasn’t like my husband. I would take full responsibility for my actions, besides, whats the point in running? They’ll catch you eventually, whether it be ten days, ten weeks, ten months or even ten years. And don’t tell me I could have played that Battered Wife/Self Defense card, because thats all bullshit. Anyway, the Police arrived, stormed the house in fact, like they were running from a Tornado, arrested me, and took me away.

There was a trial of course, made very simple and easy by the fact that I pleaded Guilty. I was sentenced to Death by Lethal Injection.

In the ten years I’ve been here, I’ve never felt any remorse. My husband got just what he deserved. When I think back to the look of mingled shock and surprise on his face I laugh, cause the Beater was finally the Beaten.

Yes, I killed him, yes, I’m a Murderer, but I never ran away. I took responsibility and I like to think I dealt with it well enough. And at 12.01am tonight, when the Deadly cocktail of toxins enter my bloodstream, I’ll still feel the same. When I meet my maker, whether it be God, or Satan, at least I can say,
“Justice Is Served.”

Lemme know what y’all think, your feedback is important to me.

Ciao.

Floating Free

Floating free, a world of silence, nothing can hurt me here. My life is my own, a world of darkness, where my true colours can shine, like a beacon to all who may pass me by. Deep in the gloom, I can shine, be myself, just be me. Like I only ever wanted to be.

Reflections.

Standing in the pouring rain, the little girl screamed for her Mother. A voice behind her said,
“She can’t hear you anymore honey.”
The little girl turned towards the voice, and saw a beautiful woman standing wearing a long white flowing dress, with dark hair almost to her waist. She looked Asian.
“Who are you?” whispered the little girl.
I’m here to protect you, to guide you, to lead you away from danger, to keep you on the path of your life.” replied the woman.
“But who are you?” Asked the little girl again.
“I’m your spirit guide” said the woman smiling.
The little girl felt a rush of love and affection for this kind lady, then everything faded away, and the little girl was left staring in the mirror at her own reflection once more. She knew she’d see the lady again.

Ciao.

New Story

This is a story of pain, loss and helplessness. The end is a little hard, but I hope you enjoy it. I’ve found a picture that I thought was perfect to match the story, so I’ll do my usual. Post the Picture, then the story, and hopefully I’ll see some comments in the comments section.

Blood, Sweat And Tears.

Weak as a kitten, she lay there on the cold stone floor panting for breath. How could he do this to her? He’d gotten her dependent on Heroin in the first place, then gotten her pregnant. Now, at 6 months pregnant, he’d decided she needed to kick the habit, making it sound as though she’d started it herself in the first place, and had brought her here, to this run down cottage out in the middle of nowhere. He’d given her some Candles, a box of Matches and two boxes of crackers, and left again, saying he was going to fetch a nurse to help her. That was three days ago.

As pain wracked her body, she curled into a ball and tried to ride it out, but couldn’t help screaming and yelling in desperation and frustration. He hadn’t gone for the Nurse at all, he’d left her here to suffer it alone. Her pants for breath mingled with her tears and huge shudders racked her petite frame. The next pain caught her off guard with it’s intensity, and as she screamed again, she started to haemorrage severely. Her last thought as unconciousness took over was “My Baby”.

Leah’s eyes flickered, then slowly opened. She felt bruised and battered, and for a moment, couldn’t remember where she was. Then it all came back to her. Gasping, she placed her hands on her stomach, praying for movement. But – Nothing. Her baby was dead. Pulling herself painfully to a sitting position, she became aware of something between her thighs under her skirt. Lifting it, there he was. A perfect baby boy, he wasn’t breathing. Lifting him gently into her arms, Leah wept for the needless loss of life.

Shovelling the last shovel of dirt onto the small mound under the Apple Tree, Leah knelt down and prayed. The sun shone down brightly, creating a dappled pattern where it shone through the tree branches. It was two days since Leah had lost her baby, and five since Jonas had left her here alone to do Cold Turkey. The two days following the death of her baby, Leah had gotten a little of her strength back by resting and nibbling at the crackers. Mercifully, the withdrawals had subsided.

Leah walked unsteadily to the front of the cottage and sat down on the step. Feeling the warmth of the sun on her face she closed her eyes. They snapped open when she heard the familiar hum of a powerful car engine, and a minute later Jonas’s car screeched to a halt outside the cottage. Jonas climbed out and smirked down at her.
“You got suicidal did ya?” he asked mockingly, taking in the dried blood covering her clothes.
“I lost the baby” She whispered close to tears again.
“Well, thats a blessing! I never wanted it anyway” He snapped.
“Now get in the car, you stink and need a bath” he sneered walking back to the car.
Rising unsteadily, Leah replied
“Yes Uncle” and followed meekly behind.

I hope y’all enjoyed this. I found it tough to write so I hope the end result was worth it. Any feedback or comments you have, would be much appreciated.

Ciao.

Third Posting…..New Story

Bats In The Belfry.

Her footsteps echoed loudly, and the old heavy Oak door creaked, then slammed shut behind her. Whirling round, she stared at it, her breath coming in gasps, her heart hammering in her chest. Flicking on her torch, she turned slowly on the spot, aiming the beam down the aisle between the Pews towards the Alter. Two huge Church Candles flickered underneath a wall mounted Statue of Christ on the Cross, casting weird shadows on the walls. Slowly she began to walk down the aisle, her gaze fixed on the flickering candles.

Reverent Bootham lifted his head suddenly and frowned. Was that a noise he’d heard outside? The fire in his cosy office crackled merrily, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney, and the lamp on his desk spilled light onto the papers he’d been working on. The Church had already suffered at the hands of mindless Vandals, and the Reverend was determined it had to stop. Standing, he walked out of his office and down the Hall. Then, opening the door, he took a deep breath and stepped out into the night.

She reached the Alter and knelt before the statue.
“O Lord, forgive me” she murmered quietly and made the sign of the cross. Rising, she walked to a door in a niche in the left wall, and going through, she began to ascend the steps that would take her to the top of the belfry.

Keeping to the shadows, the Reverend let his eyes adjust again to the darkness, then slowly and stealthily, began to make his way towards the South side of the Church exterior. He’d checked the other three sides and hadn’t heard a murmer. He was beginning to think he hadn’t heard a noise after all. Peeking round the corner to the south side he expelled his breath and almost laughed out loud. Nothing. Not bothering to keep in the shadows any longer, he began to make his way back to the comfort of his office. Suddenly a whole colony of Bats flew out of the belfry, making a huge noise, and the Reverend jumped as though he’d been shot. Heart hammering he looked up, just in time to see torchlight and a shadowy figure appear at the top.

She placed the torch on the floor, then knelt and whispered
“O Lord, forgive me for what I must do, he loves me as I love him, but he loves his life vocation more. I will never be complete without him, I’m ready to leave this world, knowing we will be reunited one day, Amen”
She stood and carefully climbed onto the rampart. She stood a moment with the wind whipping round her, then almost gracefully, she simply stepped out and into nothingness.

The Reverend stared up at the figure as it stepped up onto the rampart.
“Dear God NO!” he whispered, as he realized the figure was about to jump. But his prayer went unheard as the figure stepped out and fell, to land with a sickening crunch a minute later. The Reverend hurried forward, the look of concern on his face turning quickly to a look of utmost horror. He stared down, as the glassy, unseeing eyes of the woman he loved stared up, and Blood slowly soaked through the Wedding Dress and Bridal Veil that she wore.

Feedback as usual in the comments would be much appreciated.

Ciao.

Second Monologue Lost.

Unfortunately, due to certain issues I had with this blog, I lost my posts. The first one I had written down so it was only a matter of retyping it. The Second one however, came from the top of my head, and I didn’t have it written down anywhere, so unfortunately it’s been lost for good.

I do have a story half finished so once it’s been completed, I shall post it asap.

Thanks for your patience.

Ciao.

My First Monologue.

World Of Darkness

Icy fingers squeeze round the heart these days, dunno why. It seems I’m losing my mind, like I don’t remember getting out of bed on a marning, or going to work. But I s’pose I must have done, otherwise I’d have had a letter telling me I’ve been fired, or a call from Miss Snooty, telling me in that snooty Pinched Nostril voice that, unfortunately, due to my unexplained lack of attendance, the company had no choice but to let me go. Whatever.

I only feel safe when Darkness hits, with my bottle of Vodka and my trusty razor blade. I try and forget the pain on weekends, yanno the thing, I get dressed up and hit the bars, and more often than not, I end up in a strange bed, in a strange place, while some puny pencil dick stranger tries his best to maintain an erection long enough to get himself off. But the harsh glare of daylight always brings the truth crashing back in.

I go back to my room, and shower feverishly to get rid of all traces of the starnger, then with the blinds drawn to shut out the world, I sit with my bottle of Vodka and my trusty Razor Blade. Neither have ever let me down. My only source of light in the darkness that surrounds me.

Vodka dulls my pain, makes me forget, but the Razor Blade is my true friend. I get a perverse kinda pleasure from dragging the blade across my bared skin, from seeing the droplets form and run, like tears of blood. The burning pain makes me forget the other pain. You know… The one that threatens to overpower me, and have me carted off to the looney bin in a straightjacket, to a padded cell, where the lights burn all the time. I mean I’d have no relief from the harsh glare of reality, no comforting darkness to make me feel safe, like Daddy used to do when he came into my room on a night after he’d put my Mother in her place. She always deserved it, she was evil, going through his things, trying to find out who his other women were.

Daddy killed my Mother one day, beat her to death with the fireplace poker, then hid her body. Then it was just Daddy and I. But “They” found my mother’s body and they called on Daddy, took him away from me, said he was mad, insane.

My Daddy died three years ago, left me all alone. Now it’s just me, my bottle of Vodka and my trusty Razor Blade.

Ciao.