365 Ficlets - #114 ~ "Proactive Political Action"

The pistol felt heavy in his hand, not in an alien way as he was familiar with weapons. No the gun felt reassuringly heavy. Old fashioned projectile weapons like this Browning were antiques, considered so outmoded and rare that security scanners no longer paid them any mind; these days it was the energy signature of a plasma or laser weapon that was the target of the state security teams and their technological help mates. It had taken considerable time and money to find and repair it, and even longer to gather together the requisite equipment to manufacture reliable ammunition, but it had all been worth it.

He was no longer in any doubt that his target deserved death. His only concern had been the potential to inadvertently marytr a man that was so utterly unworthy of such respect or dignity. Luckily the tide was turning there as well, and the documents that he had sent to various news directors that would arrive after he was dead were likely to leave his actions mitigated at worst and vindicated at best.

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365 Ficlets - #113 ~ "Desert Night"

The night was far too warm. Normally the darkness had brought some respite from the heat of the days, but the fall of night had brought no such relief today.

Damian sat by the window, looking out across the town and the flickering lights of candles in windows. The town at large did not have electricity, but he was glad that the compound had a generator, if only for the fan that was working overtime trying to cool down his study.

He took a sip of the ice water that was a undreamed of luxury for most of the people readying themselves for sleep below and then picked a cigarette out of the packet in his breast pocket. He turned the lighter over and over in his hand, trying to recall the look in Danielle’s eyes when she had given it to him; the expectation of him being pleased by the gift, the anticipation of his happiness. He flicked the lid open and it made the characteristic and satisfying clunk that it always made; a predictable sound that bore the promise of the satisfaction of the first lungful of smoke.

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365 Ficlets - #112 ~ "Flame of Remembrance"

Andrew turned to the window and pushed it slightly more open, hoping that there might be some breeze in the still summer night. The candle did not even flicker in the darkness.

He laid down the quill and stared into the lonely flame, allowing his eyes to drift out of focus as he relaxed back into the chair. The soft yellow glow filled his vision and he started to drift into a familiar reverie.

He allowed his mind to wander in the background and found himself remembering the Great Hall when he had first arrived. It had been in the very depths of Winter that he had made the journey across the county to pledge himself to the order, and he had been so keen to finally arrive after ten days in the snow and wind that he had not camped in sight of the abbey to approach in the morning. The brother that had welcomed him as an honoured guest had left him seated in the Great Hall surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of votive candles flickering in the icy drafts that cut across the space while he fetched the Abbot.

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This Ficlet was inspired by the following image:




Photo by Michael Esplana (on Flickr) you can see the photo's page here.

365 Ficlets - #111 ~ "Breakfast in Bed"

She was winding her forelock in her fingers, absently staring out of the window; content as far as I could tell.

She was not aware that I was watching, her reverie deep enough that my feet on the stairs and the gentle clanking of cutlery on crockery had not roused her consciousness.

I stopped for long enough to really look at her; her deep blue eyes, the sweet gold of her blonde hair, the soft ivory of her skin. She was perfect in my mind, even if for another her neck might be too long, her breasts too small or too big, her hips too wide or too narrow; one can never tell the taste of others. I was captivated by the places where her body disappeared under the sheet that was laid across her in a rather careless manner, not to cover her it seemed, but just because it was there and the cotton felt good against her skin. I considered putting the tray down and going hunting under the sheet for the delights that its borders seemed to promise.

She stirred.

“Breakfast in bed? Oh baby, thank you.”

Oh that smile.

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365 Ficlets - #110 ~ "Black Jack at Lunchtime"

"Another shot?"

James motioned to the open bottle of Jack Daniels on the bar between them.

David tried very hard to tear his eyes away from where Michelle was practicing her moves; even fully clothed there was something undeniably sexy about pole-dancing when she did it.

"Nah. Thanks, but I’ve got to get back to work."

James snorted;

"That’s never stopped you before. What’s up?"

How could he explain that this story was personal without revealing that he had been screwing a stripper, and worse still a stripper from his friend’s biggest rival. James was a good friend, but he would not have been impressed to discover that David had been nailing Olga, if only because in order to have met her there was a good chance that he had been spending his time and money at a different establishment. As far as James was concerned if David was in Soho, he should be in his place. Of course in James’s place David could not pick up on the talent. This meant that he often went elsewhere; he just did not want to admit to it.

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This Ficlet was inspired by Demondaz's suggestions of a bottle of Jack Daniels, Soho and Pole Dancing as item, place and activity from the Wednesday poll on my Livejournal.

365 Ficlets - #109 ~ "Master and Servant"

“There is no honour in this, my master.”

Randolph spoke from his knees, but the defiance in his voice was evident as though he were stood to his full six feet. Eyes cast down, he did not see the smirk on his master’s face, reveling in the inevitable rebellion of the student. Randolph waited, trusting to his recent successes and services rendered, hoping that he might speak his mind when it mattered and influence the old man, even a little.

The old man reached up slowly and cast his hood from his head, allowing the shock of white hair to catch the flickering candlelight, clearly making ready to speak, but delaying for as long as he might, testing the resolve of his protegé. Putting a crooked finger to the side of his face he drew in a long, lingering breath and then finally answered;

“Honour is not why we are here, Randolph. Have you forgotten? We are here to bring about the defeat of the Church of Rome and nothing more, or less come to that.”

Randolph shook his head and rose to stand before his master…

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365 Ficlets - #109 ~ "Master and Servant"

“There is no honour in this, my master.”

Randolph spoke from his knees, but the defiance in his voice was evident as though he were stood to his full six feet. Eyes cast down, he did not see the smirk on his master’s face, reveling in the inevitable rebellion of the student. Randolph waited, trusting to his recent successes and services rendered, hoping that he might speak his mind when it mattered and influence the old man, even a little.

The old man reached up slowly and cast his hood from his head, allowing the shock of white hair to catch the flickering candlelight, clearly making ready to speak, but delaying for as long as he might, testing the resolve of his protegé. Putting a crooked finger to the side of his face he drew in a long, lingering breath and then finally answered;

“Honour is not why we are here, Randolph. Have you forgotten? We are here to bring about the defeat of the Church of Rome and nothing more, or less come to that.”

Randolph shook his head and rose to stand before his master…

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365 Ficlets - #108 ~ "Suicide Bombers"

I was just headin' into work, like I do every day. I make ammunition at the factory, most of the town does. I had waved at Bill, he's the guy who does the security desk at the main gate, and I was stopped to chat to Helen and Marjorie when it happened.

There is talk that some folks saw the bombers' faces, that they were just ordinary looking guys, without any hate or madness in their eyes. Me I never saw them, all I remember was lighting Marjorie's cigarette and then being knocked off my feet by the blast. The noise was incredible, you know there was a ringin' in my ears for well past a week after?

I was out - I hit my head on the ground when I fell - and, well I'm glad about that. I didn't see the broken bodies and the blood, I kinda slept through it all. I've heard folks talkin' since the factory re-opened and I wish I hadn't heard. Friends of mine were ripped open by those two fellahs, for what? They say that they were protestin' the war, but how can you protest a war by killin' folks? I don't see how.

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This Ficlet was inspired by the front page of Wikipedia for the 25th of August 2008, in English. Amongst other articles was the report of a two-person suicide bombing of an Ordnance Factory in Pakistan, so I constructed a story that was designed to be a similar happening in the US instead.

365 Ficlets - #107 ~ "Objective"

The confidence was gone from his eyes. Fear was flooding in to fill the void, and along with that blood was pumping from his nose and trickling into his mouth. He tried to cry out, but the pain from between his legs was somehow rendering him silent.

She took a step back, careful to make sure that she still had a good grip with her left hand, and flicked her hair out of her eyes with her right. She then closed it around his chin and made him look into her eyes.

“Where is it, Adam?”

He tried to blink through the tears that were welling up from the broken nose and focus on her face; who was this woman?

“I haven’t got all night!”

She twisted her left hand and his crotch exploded in another ball of agony. What did she want?

“Come on Adam, the drive. Where is it?”

It all made sense now. She must have been one of the ones that they identified and she did not like being on that kind of list. He could feel her hand flexing, she was going to twist harder, he was sure.

“On my desk, in the porcelain dog. Really.”

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365 Ficlets - #106 ~ "Between the Lines"

“Can I buy you a drink?”

She smiled and held his gaze, exuding confidence, trying to hide her nerves behind the bravado of the moment and the two gin and tonics.

“Do you want to buy me a drink, or do you want to come upstairs?”

She steeled her nerve, nodded; this was what she wanted. She followed him, making a point to let her eyes linger on his rear every few steps, relying on the magic way in which people ‘feel’ the gaze of others.

As the penthouse door closed she pushed him against the wall. She buried her mouth into his neck and closed her left hand around his crotch, her right against the side of his head. She felt his body move in assent, so she gently nipped his neck and tightened her grip in both places; he continued to respond.

This was all going to plan.

She slid her left hand up and under the waistband of his trousers. As his body told her that he was focused in the way she wanted, she drew her head back and brought it down on the bridge of his nose as she tightened her left hand suddenly.

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365 Ficlets - #105 ~ "Sanctuary"

“Are you sure? We’ve got a lot riding on you being right about this.”

“Look, demons cannot abide holy ground. If we can get into the church then we are safe, at least until they can persuade some human to desecrate the place, but I think that we are ahead of them on this one. Anyway, come on, it’s just around this corner.”

They started running again and a few moments later they turned the corner. Like a beacon of hope the white church was stark against the clear summer sky behind. There were no sentries; Luke was right they were first. Ebba felt her spirits lift for the first time since they had started running, and she threw her head back in relief as they ran through the gates and up to the church door.

Unfortunately her joy was short-lived. As Luke pushed the door open, Ebba caught a glimpse of the large red stain on the altar and the inverted cross. She tried to call out to him, but before she could speak a hand had reached out and dragged him inside. She heard from behind her;

“Hello Ebba. Welcome.”

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This Ficlet was inspired by the following image:




Photo by stuckincustoms (on Flickr) you can see the photo's page here.

365 Ficlets - #104 ~ "Docking"

Phaedra smiled as she heard the low staccato of jet sounds coming through her headset as she tweaked the manouvering thrusters. Logically she knew that the thrusters made no sound – they were firing in the vacuum – there was no medium to carry the sound. She smiled because she loved the fact that the engineers behind her scout vessel and countless other ships had decided to add aural feedback to the manouvering system anyway. She could imagine the scene in which a bunch of geeks would argue back and forth and eventually a marketing guy or gal would pipe up ‘but people like to hear the thrusters’.

The clang of hull on docking collar was real enough. That sound was transported to her ears through the recycled, precisely controlled atmosphere of Elixir, her home for the last six weeks and during that time her little island in the void. They had seen great sights together, and the contents of the cargo hold was going to raise an eyebrow or two. Still, homecoming was no fun if there were no surprises to hand out.

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365 Ficlets - #103 ~ "Tear in the Desert"

I awoke to find myself alone in the tent; Jane was not in bed with me and not in the other part of the tent. I threw a robe on and stepped out into the cold desert night to look for her.

It is a strange thing, but during the daytime the sand is so hot that one cannot ever walk upon it with bare feet, but in the dead of night it has cooled to the point where it almost feels wet against the skin. I love the feeling of sand wrapped around my feet, so as I padded from palm to palm looking for Jane, unwilling to call out lest I woke anyone, I enjoyed the freedom to walk on the sand.

She was by the water, just sitting with her back against a palm and her knees drawn up under her chin. She did not immediately sense my presence and I could see that she had been crying, a single tear gleaming in the moonlight on her cheek. I knew that she was missing England and I had wondered from time to time if she was really happy with me, but I had not seen any indication from her as clear as stealing out into the night to cry.
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This Ficlet was inspired by the suggestions of Immewahr in my regular poll for an Item, a Location and an Activity for my Wednesday Ficlet.

365 Ficlets - #102 ~ "Idol"

"Is that?"

"Where?"

"Over there. It looks like him."

"Oh my God! It is him! I’m going over to talk to him; I mean I have to. You know?"

"What are you going to say?"

"I don’t know. I’ll probably say something about how much I love his lyrics, how impressed I have always been by their depth and wit. Either that or I will just stand there with my mouth slightly open and mumble ‘hi’ and ‘I love you’. We’ll just have to see."

As I watched Nicola wander across the street to say ‘hello’ to her idol; her favourite band member from her favourite band, I could not help but smile. It was right that I stayed in the pub and watched from afar. Sure I like their music but she is a real fan; tagging along would have been tacky. As I looked around the bar I could see other small groups being left by one or two people, fingers being pointed out of the window. By the time Nicola came back, the object of her admiration was surrounded by fans; credit to him he was smiling and chatting, not running from them.

"He’s lovely."

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This Ficlet has been directly inspired by the real world meeting between my friend Cathy and (one of) her idols Neil Fallon, lead singer from the most excellent Clutch. She met him outside the Tesco on the Cowley Road in Oxford, yesterday evening, before we went into the Zodiac (I refuse to call it the Oxford Carling Academy) to see the might Clutch play - they REALLY rocked, by the way.

365 Ficlets #101 ~ "Roanoake"

Kay would not stop talking about Roanoke once she realised that we were going to be close enough to take a side trip there. In the run up to our vacation I became bemused by my daughter’s obsession with the story of the Lost Colony. She poured over books and internet sites, loading as much content as she could onto her laptop for the trip. I could hardly complain; sometimes it had been hard to get her to crack a book at all. Even so, her interest was bordering obsession and I found that odd. Sure it is an interesting story. The complete disappearance of all the colonists with just one gnomic clue – CROATOAN carved on a fence post from the fort is a unique mystery, but there were too many unknowns for me to be as drawn in by it as she was, at least on paper.

That all changed when I stood there and took the place in. I do not like to admit that there was something dead, almost hostile about the place. I don’t believe that it was my imagination; not after what happened during our second night on the island…
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This Ficlet was inspired (as many of my Monday Ficlets) by an item from the English front page of wikipedia.org today the 18th of August, because on this day in 1590, John White, Govenor of the Colony of Roanoake returned to the island from England to discover the Colony abandoned and partially dismantled, with the word CROATOAN carved on one of the fence posts from the fort. It is still considered to be a mystery to this day...

365 Ficlets - #100 ~ "Overture"

“Cigarette?”

He was standing next to her at the bar, and she had not even noticed. Now he was gesturing towards her with a soft cigarette packet, a single smoke poking up out of the packet, like a little tower protruding from the foundation of its brothers and sisters, not yet freed from their packaging.

“Er, thankyou, no. I don’t smoke.”

She hoped that he would go away; she was in no mood to be hit upon.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, it just looked like you could use a pick-me-up.”

It occurred to her that this was an odd choice of words considering that he was trying to pick her up. She could not resist having a little fun with him.

“And what is supposed to be the pick-me-up, the smoke or what would come later in your motel room?”

His face reddened and he picked up his drink and beat a hasty retreat to the other end of the bar. Why were men so sure that they were what she needed?

It never crossed her mind that his motives were most likely less motivated by her needs. She raised a finger;

“Another please.”

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365 Ficlets - #99 ~ "Drinking and Dialing"

I smiled, and nodded, which was completely unecessary considering that I was on the phone. She was right, there was no point to this call, and I was not quite drunk enough to admit that I had just wanted to hear her voice.

"I'm sorry, Sara. I've had a few drinks... I should not have called."

I heard her sigh; I could see the look on her face in my mind's eye.

"It's ok, Ethan, but I thought that we went over all of this the other week? I'm with Jason now, and while it's true that what we had was very special, you have to let me go. I can't keep getting these phonecalls at one in the morning, ok?"

"Sure, I'm sorry. Goodnight"

I hung up before she could say anything and then, of course, I threw the phone at the couch, not because I was angry with her per se, but because I was angry with the world, the situation, everything. I had pushed her away with my guilt so she pushed me away to protect herself from the poison I was feeding her instead of the love I should have given her. If only I could change things.

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365 Ficlets - Day #98 ~ "Release"

There is nothing left here now… My parents are dead. There is no inheritance, I have no other family or people. As I stare down the valley from the ruin of the humble home that my father built over thirty years ago I am struck by one abiding thought; I can be anyone that I want to be now.

While my parents were alive there was a requirement for me to settle down, live a sensible life. I did not manage to do this while they were alive, but I have no intention of memorialising their lives with my own. While they were alive I could not be honest about my real goals, now I can actually embrace my desire to remain unmarried and free. I can work only as much as I need, in order to travel and experience the world. There is no danger in openly choosing men as partners as often as women, no longer do I need to fear the recrimination of failing to be the person that they wanted. I am sorry that they are gone, but the possibilities available to me now are so wide and varied that I am consoled and freed from my grief.

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365 Ficlets - #97 ~ "Finesse Hitter"

The cold of the blade resting against his leg snapped him back from his reverie. He could hear the blood slowly dripping from the point and pooling by his foot. As he checked his surroundings he started to count the bodies that were strewn around the lobby. Twelve; that was good. He remembered twelve, so he had not become lost in the killing. Just in the aftermath. He padded across the floor, avoiding the larger pools of blood, and checked that each body was indeed a body and not merely a casualty.

Satisfied that all of them were indeed dead he looked around for where he had stashed his clothes. If you are going to get bloody you may as well cover the blood up with your clean clothes afterwards; he had always thought that this had been the best piece of advice that Dellner had ever given to him. There they were, sealed in a double wrap of plastic sheeting and duct-tape behind the last pillar on the right, clear of all the blood spatter, so that he could dress without marking them. It was going to work out…

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365 Ficlets - #96 ~ "Discordian Monopoly, Photography Mashup"

“Six! That means we turn right, right?”

“Yeah, and walk three blocks. Come on”

It was starting to get really exciting; three moves in and we were already exploring. Of course that was the point. When Jane had suggested that we play Discordian Monopoly for our first night out on Manhattan I had initially been a little unimpressed. I warmed up to the idea when she had offered to pose for me at every other move, regardless of where we ended up; suddenly this was a mini art project and I could no longer resist.

As we walked down Waverly Place, along the northern edge of Washington Square Park I was getting excited. Jane was fearless about it, but I could tell that there were a lot of people around even though it was late. We were going to have to be really quick to not draw a lot of attention. I wanted to shoot her leaning on a lamp post with the arch behind her. I metred and framed my shot and then she dropped her coat and darted into the frame; we were rolling the dice again inside thirty seconds.

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This Ficlet was inspired by the collaboration of Romney (From Livejournal) who contributed Dice, a street corner and 'finding the way' in response to my weekly request for a thing, place and activity on my LJ.

365 Ficlets - #95 ~ "Headspace"

“What do you mean, you were in my dream?”

Sue shook her head gently as she spoke and ran her fingers through her hair; her eyes told a tale of disbelief.

I tried to think of a way to explain what I had experienced without sounding insane, but there was nothing to tell her.

“Look, I know it sounds crazy as sunscreen in a rainstorm, but when you woke up and described that room to me, and what you were doing in your dream – you know counting the shells – I knew before you finished explaining, because I had been there watching you. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be there, but I was.”

She looked at me, the redness in her eyes showed me that she was starting to cry;

“It doesn’t make sense, you can’t know; you can’t have seen my dream, it’s just not possible. I don’t want to think about the alternative… I like being able to explain my world. Maybe I was talking in my sleep and you heard me in yours; is that possible?”

I nodded. I knew what I believed, but I could see that she did not.

“Yeah, that must be it.”

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365 Ficlets - #95 ~ "Headspace"

“What do you mean, you were in my dream?”

Sue shook her head gently as she spoke and ran her fingers through her hair; her eyes told a tale of disbelief.

I tried to think of a way to explain what I had experienced without sounding insane, but there was nothing to tell her.

“Look, I know it sounds crazy as sunscreen in a rainstorm, but when you woke up and described that room to me, and what you were doing in your dream – you know counting the shells – I knew before you finished explaining, because I had been there watching you. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be there, but I was.”

She looked at me, the redness in her eyes showed me that she was starting to cry;

“It doesn’t make sense, you can’t know; you can’t have seen my dream, it’s just not possible. I don’t want to think about the alternative… I like being able to explain my world. Maybe I was talking in my sleep and you heard me in yours; is that possible?”

I nodded. I knew what I believed, but I could see that she did not.

“Yeah, that must be it.”

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365 Ficlets - #94 ~ "Collateral?"

The bombs are falling again, and so I dare not go outside. I ventured out a little while ago and all I could see along the road were bodies and abandoned cars, luggage and so forth. I don’t understand why they had to bomb the roads going in and out of Gori, there were only normal people on those roads, trying to flee the fighting. Did the damn Russians really think that Georgian loyalists were going to poke their heads out of their holes once the word came down that the Russians were coming. The people that they shelled and bombed were the people they claim that they are coming to liberate; people who had seen enough civil war to know that there would be no safety even if they cheered their liberators into town.

I have enough food and water now to last over a week, so I will lie here in the dark, with enough fuel for the lantern to eat and perhaps read a little when I can stand the boredom no longer. I do not even care who runs things. Georgians, Russians, they are all the same; they just want to fight.

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You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

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This Ficlet was inspired by the item on the English front page of Wikipedia today (11th of August 2008) outlining that the Georgian Government has approved a State of War for the next fifteen days, in response to the Russian invasion in the disagreement ove rthe sovereignty of South Ossetia.

365 Ficlets - #93 ~ "Amnesty"

“There is no question in my mind that he has been using drugs, and using them for at least the last three months.”

No one looked shocked as this pronouncement was made. In fact the cold acceptance of this statement made his point for him – everyone had known that Cory had been taking drugs for some time, they had simply been unwilling to tell anyone in authority about it.

“Moreover, I am pretty certain that some of you have been taking drugs with Cory. It is important to note that in this one and only instance there will be no repercussions for anyone who comes forward. In fact we are asking those of you who have perhaps been experimenting with Cory so that we can make sure that you are not at risk from whatever is wrong with Cory.”

There was an amount of uncomfortable shifting in seats and murmurs as the other kids started to react to John’s speech. As per his request I was watching to see which kids or groups of kids looked less shocked, more resigned as they heard about the amnesty that was on offer.

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365 Ficlets - #92 ~ "Reunion"

When she sat down in front of me I noted that she was shocked by the beard, but more than that I was pleased that she could see it at all. I had ordered the wine, and I was hoping that she would recognise that I had remembered her favourite Riesling, when she got right down to it;

“Why did you call me?”

This was not the opening gambit I had been expecting. Obviously I was not quite so crass as to want to hear her say “It’s nice to see you”, but I was hoping her reaction to be less confrontational, more pleased perhaps. I was a little lost for words, and Sara could see that.

“I’m serious, why did you want to see me after three years? Did you think I was going to be keen to reconcile? Were you just lonely? I don’t have a lot of time, so can we just get this over with?”

I was starting to wonder how I could answer any of these questions without sounding like an idiot. It was true that I had heard that her sight was back, and it was true that I wanted her back; now it was clear that she did not want me at all.

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365 Ficlets - #91 ~ "New Moon"

She stood at the top of the path leading down to our door, hands clasped together in front of her, looking up at the new moon, which shone from the dark purple, summer night sky like a sliver of silver.

“Ich gruße dich, das neues licht…”

She spoke the rhyme too quietly for me to hear and anyway my German was not good enough to follow along after the first sentence. I had seen her do this many times before; each time I was fascinated by her ability to remember to observe this tradition. I knew, because she had told me, that it was something she had done with her mother since being a little girl and it was important to her because it made her feel close, while she was so far away.

I waited quietly for her to finish greeting the moon, and tried so very hard to burn the image of her standing there into my mind; to always remember her in this simple, innocent, beautiful way. She finished the rhyme and then turned to walk to me, a little smile on her face.

In that moment I knew that I would always love her…

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You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

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This Ficlet was inspired by the following image:




Photo by swh (on Flickr)

365 Ficlets - #90 ~ "Age Versus Hope"

“This is not a time for us anymore, little one; we must withdraw.”

The child shook her head and looked for all the world as though she was about to stamp her foot as well.

“Shan’t. My place is here, and nothing is going to make me give that up.”

Her face was a picture of purpose and assertiveness as she answered her elder companion. He smiled, benificently, and shook his head making his soft, grey mane seem more like a cascade of water than hair. The child continued to stare back at him, her arms crossed across her chest and her mouth pursed in an immature attempt at a stony face.

“Little one, the church has established itself here to the exclusion of our kind. If we withdraw back into the Summer Kingdom we will be safe, but if we stay here the Christians will drive us mad with their bells and hymns and prayers. Their practices are anathema to our kind; you know this.”

Her face softened a little, turning from anger to fear, and then hardened again;

“Then we must fight them uncle, we owe the woods that.”

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365 Ficlets - #89 ~ "Head"

She let out a soft moan as he spared her any more teasing and parted her lips with his tongue. Her taste was like heaven to him and from the way she started to gently but urgently thrust her pelvis towards his mouth he was fairly sure that she was getting something out of the bargain as well.

He slowly eased the tip of his tongue between the folds of her quim, making languorous circles from her clit to the edge of her vagina. Her sex began to open up to him, and she became wetter, her body giving him cues that she herself was too pre-occupied to give. He slid his tongue back up and then closed his mouth around her little bud, gently sucking it into his mouth and playing his tongue across it.

Her hands slid into his hair at the back of his head, pulling him into her body, and the thrusting of her pelvis from before became more urgent, her breath now in halting gasps and moans.

He felt the small spasms in her thighs and then his mouth was flooded with her juice as she came and came pushing his head into her.

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365 Ficlets - #88 ~ "Who's that Girl?"

He had been watching her for some time, not entirely comfortable even in himself that he was observing her, even if she was a waitress and therefore out in public to all intents and purposes.

He liked the way that she chatted to everyone, as if they were actually important to her, and he loved her style; the piercings and her amazing tattoos, the ones that he could see anyway. He had been taking breakfast in the same place for over a month in order to see her and still he had not found the courage to talk to her beyond a ‘good morning’ or ‘it’s nice out, huh?’ and of course to give her his order or ask for the check.

He knew what was holding him back, and it was not the obvious. It was just that he felt like it was somewhat tacky to hit on waitresses; they must put up with that shit all of the time, and no matter how nicely he put it she was going to be immediately on her guard. He had thought about trying to strike up a conversation with her about where she liked to go out, but that was obvious too…

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365 Ficlets - #87 ~ "From out of the Woodwork"

“I was the one that they never knew about, you know?”

The old man who had crept up on me made me start right out of my skin when he spoke. I turned to look at him and was surprised to find a very old man indeed, perhaps in his nineties, but still stood very straight, not stooped with age. He was dressed to the nines in the fifties style, a deep grey suit with a fine pinstripe and a sombre charcoal fedora on his head; simple yet stylish sunglasses hiding his eyes.

“I’m sorry, who never knew what about you? In fact who are you?”

He flashed me a wicked smile from under the brim of his hat and handed me his card:

John de Lancey – Private Security

There was no number or address, but at the time I paid it no mind.

“Kid, I was the one who was in her heart when the G-men came down on her and left her looking like she’d done herself in. I found her, and had to make like I was just shocked, not plunged into despair as I was.”

I looked back at the inscription and then back at him;

“You and Marilyn?”

He nodded.

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This Ficlet was inspired by the item on the English Wikipedia front page today (4th August, 2008) remembering the death of Marilyn Monroe. Of course that anniversary is the 5th of August, but because I am in San Francisco it is still the 4th for me, but my laptop is set to British Summer Time and so got the page for the 5th - extra cool weirdness ftw! :-)

365 Ficlets - #86 ~ "Morning 'W'"

The morning was cold as she stepped out of the apartment door, her silent little companion shivered a little on the end of his leash, his feet touching the street for the first time.

The sun was only just coming up as she set out towards 24th, the morning walk’s payoff in her mind’s eye; a Turkish from Philz. With her hood up and her eyes down, she passed by ‘outdoor sofas’ and locked gateways until she cut east to walk past the elementary school with its incredible murals. The Mission was still showing her new beauty in the form of its distinctive street art; the Mexican Mural style.

Her companion was dragging behind, as he always did, checking every tree, hydrant and newspaper machine to see if he should pee there or save himself for a more important waypoint in the local canine equivalent of GPS .

There on the corner of Folsom and 24th was the reason to make this early morning odyssey; the finest coffee in San Francisco, and perhaps the world.

“Morning.”

“Hi, can I get a Turkish with cream, please?”

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365 Ficlets - #85 ~ "Seduction?"

She looked over her shoulder from the kitchen, trying to catch his eye as she mixed the drinks. She wanted him to be watching her, she wanted to feel his gaze upon her, but he was playing it far too cool, flicking through the book she had left casually on the table.

She smiled to herself, and turned her attention back to the drinks while trying to work out how he would react to a book of erotic photographs on her coffee table. Would he assume that she was liberated, or wonder if she was an artist of some kind. They had only just met; there was still ample room for assumption and bias to play a role in the end of the evening. Perhaps he would simply be turned on by the pictures or better still he might be turned on by the idea that she found them arousing.

She turned back to the living room, the drinks in her hands, and could not resist trying to sneak a look between his legs to see if the book was doing its work.

He caught her eye and smiled, laying the book aside so that she had a clear view; she smiled.

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365 Ficlets - #84 ~ "Memories of the Bay"

As he looked out over the bay, the lights dancing along the cables of the Bay Bridge he could not help but think of her.

It had been five years, but he could still remember it like it was yesterday, the spray, the fun… It had seemed like such a good idea to go out on Cory’s yacht that day, and Cara had loved every moment of it, well at least until she had fallen off the boat. It was crazy to have stayed out in the Bay after dark, but everyone wanted to see the Port Authority and the TransAmerica building lit up, and no one gave a lot of thought to the number of beers and magheritas that everyone had thrown back.

It was at least fifteen minutes between Cara slipping and falling, somewhere up near the bow, before someone noticed that she was missing. He had gone out of his mind, screamed her name, almost jumped into the water himself, and he would have done if Cory had not held him back.

They stopped looking for her after four days. He could not bear to think of her alone in the dark, cold and frightened.

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This Ficlet was inspired by the following image:




Photo by DIKESH.com (on Flickr)