Thursday, September 29, 2011

Writer Wed for Sept 21

New theme for Writer WED.  Write a small piece of flash fiction(500-1000 words) This can be a dream of your own, a character's dream or even the dream of a tree. As long as it is a dream. Also don't forget to send them to theEAC1@yahoo.com with the words Writer WED and the date in the subject line.


The posts will be up next week for this week. Theme is DREAM.

The Theme for OCT 6th is What is in the round box?


Also if you have a novel coming out and this is from that novel make sure to tell me.

The following is a list of people whose work was read today.

Elizabeth Kolodziej
E. A. Irwin
Missy Davis
Blaze Mc Rob
Joann H. Buchanan

I'm looking forward to seeing what's coming next!!

Literally

Looking below I wondered if I should go face down or face up. With the later I could look up into the angry storm clouds above. They seemed ready to burst; ready to let the rain fall, but to my discontent the only thing wet was the air. Though, the thunder continued to be menacing while the lightning stayed enticing.
Tapping my finger to my chin I continued the discussion in my head.
If I went face down I would only get to see the emptiness of a dimly lit street below me. It had to be past three in the morning by now. I had come up here at two and due to my indecisiveness I couldn’t settle on whether I should just let myself fall. Or how. Both were decisions that really needed to be thought through before committing to.  
Always known for getting back up, landing on feet, going forward, never letting anything keep me down and all those other clich├ęs. What people never seem to understand is that I am tired of having to get back up. I’m tired of always, eventually…falling.
And I’m not talking about a hiccup in the road or stumbling a little over a stupid pebble. No. I’m talking about falling so deep down in that hole that your fingers bleed while you pull yourself back up. Because when I fall I make sure I fall profoundly.
And so, I have fallen yet again, into that philosophical, reflective, empty, endless pool of a hole. Yes, I could go get help, a friend or a psychologist to talk to…but. But something in me is tired of talking. Even when I have something to say I don’t speak out loud anymore. Maybe because speaking is what gets you to fall? You say the wrong thing to a friend’s new girlfriend, or cuss in front of your boss, tell the truth to a family member. And that whole saying…er, not saying…what was it?
When all is said and done.
Yes. That’s exactly how I feel. I have said and done everything I want to. Want to.
Shuffling my feet a little on the ledge I saw the irony of the whole situation. Well, if you look at it from my twisted view that is. I felt like I was falling. Yet! I was standing on top of a five-story building. The falling, thus far, only being figurative. The height, at the moment, being reality.
Well, not that I wasn’t, in a way, at the bottom of a dark hole.
Still falling.
But that even though I was, me literally falling wasn’t reality. Not thus far.
All-though, if something is metaphoric then someone could just step away from it since it isn’t real. Is that why people always commented on how resilient I am? Because I stepped out of a metaphorical hole I was falling down? But in reality I was able to actually stand up tall above others like I am doing now. Or is it all just figurative?
Or could I make them both reality and fall. Face up of course. I finally decided at least that. I didn’t want to miss the sight of all that lightning on this crisp autumn night of morning.
I didn’t want to miss that… So many things I could miss if I let myself fall. Literally. 

  

I See The Aroma Of Love

Blaze McRob



I see the aroma of love, intense, so satisfying, hearing her lips touch mine as the sweet taste of the inferno blazing deep within her envelops us both. Our arms encircle each other, and we hear the passion inside us, knowing our bodies can not long resist the visions our souls already see within the tastes of our bondage to one another.

We draw in to each other, our clothing confining the wondrous sounds of enveloping smells hidden within, screaming out for release,  demanding a proper airing of feelings for tastes to see.

I take her down onto the bed so I can smell  her precious, angelic body next to mine, catching her every sigh on my tongue, to roll around with delight born of supreme pleasure. She responds to me, hearing my throbbing body react to the feelings of my vision.

The very air is charged with the taste of electricity fathomed from within the consciousness of desires heard within our souls. We see the feelings of ecstasy approaching, waiting to smell the rapturous delights awaiting the de-flowering of the innocence of pure love.

She knows the time is now, tasting the rapid sound of my beating heart, smelling my body respond to the sight of her warmth. We part slightly, only enough to remove the confining constraints keeping us from the fulfillment of touching the sounds of bliss we will see upon tasting Nirvana.

I feel the miraculous taste of the Nectar of the Gods, urging us to embark on a voyage to see the aromas of ecstasy displayed in all the senses we possess, telling us to blur the lines between them and to embrace them as one. We listen to the voices, forming a union of love, coupling sight and sound, taste and smell, creating a feeling of euphoria unable to be felt in any other way.

We freely taste the sights of orgasmic aromas heard through the feelings of our heightened arousal and explode together in a dizzying elevation of before un-known  spiritual and physical euphoria.

I hold her close. We fall:  fall deeply into the magic of our senses.

I see the aroma of love.



Frozen


by E. A. Irwin



Wind rocked my car,
buffeting with the ferocity
of an angry Tempestarii
flying through the air,
grabbing elements for
his use as he began his
assault on the earth.

His voice howled through my head,
making his foul mood known,
splintering my thoughts
until I was left dazed and distraught
from the encroaching demon.

I’d watched the flakes fall,
their luminescence appeared
ghostly and bleached against
the world of quickening black,
as if the sky shook goose feathers
upon the ground, where they lay
in silent sheeted sureness.

Desperation clung like
ugly second skin,
its frozen blanket numbing
my body and existence alike.

Thoughts turned to icy fog,
giving the frigid wasteland
of my brain atmosphere to enjoy
while the onslaught of winter’s
torment beat the land.

What would they say as another
hundred years closed its doors?
Was this the worst season of brutal
weather nature could serve?

Panic seared through my veins,
heating the fragile remainder
of what I was, until it too
succumbed to the knowledge
of relinquished life to the
Tempestarii’s enveloping revenge.

Yes, this was the worst winter had to offer.
And, as the layers of frozen wonder
drifted higher, my vision grew hazy,
tempted by the villain of sleep.

My numbed finger dragged
against icy glass one last time
before finding its rest.
Closing my eyes, I dreamed of summer,
remembering my last words
written into eternity.
I was here.

©E. A. Irwin


The Fall
By Melissa Davis
The leaves were turning auburn when she got the news in the fall. She had held her breath and crossed her fingers before she dared dream this moment would come, but it had. The moment she found out about the little one growing inside her, her dreams spread wings and flew higher than she ever imagined. She almost had given up on this lifetime. She knew that her past lives were filled with desperation as she had never had the joy of a child in any of them. She was not going to let this one go. She would do whatever she could to make sure this one survived.
She did everything she was supposed to and then some. She cut out all the caffeine, even though she had guzzled it down since she had entered college. She avoided the lunchmeat, the pineapples, even the peanut butter. She took all her vitamins each day just as she should. She did it all with a grace and love that came so easy to her. She wanted more than anything to hold a child of her own.
Her life before was traumatic. There was no other way to describe it. When she had the chance to leave it all behind she left and never came back to where it started. She met a truly wonderful man that loved her more than she ever thought she deserved. They had come together so easily and their differences made them closer. He was everything she needed and sometimes more than she ever thought she would ever have. They even had the fairytale wedding that she never let herself imagine. When she was finally safe, she had done so much healing so that someday she would be a better mother. She wanted her child to never feel afraid, to be safe in her own skin and know that she was more than good enough, she was everything.
The day her water broke she entered the hospital excited to be there, happy to greet the nurses, and anxious to get the show on the road. She stayed calm, as calm as still water on a morning lake. A few hours of pitocin, the repeated placement of the epidurals, none of these things ruined her calm. She would have a child, she would not let her past lives predict her future. When she was finally ready to push, she pushed with every breath in her body, but it was not enough. Her child was not going to come out naturally. The doctor was called and she was prepped for her first major surgery of her life.
She held her breath when her child was pulled out of her. She tensed up waiting for the most important sound in the world. She almost cried when she heard it. The first audible wail from her tiny little girl. She was so beautiful, tiny and wrinkled. It was never so easy to fall in love, but this little miracle was lifetimes of dreams and she was worth every one. Dreams do come true. They mold and shape and turn into things you never imagined and sent you down paths you were afraid to walk. She would never let her past define her future again.








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