Round Nine!

December 10, 2007 | Karin's Blog | 34 comments

1. It was right around 10 p.m. that I realized merry widows were made to be ripped off right away, not to be worn for an all-night TV marathon.
When I’d first put on the incredibly revealing costume — come-fuck-me red lace, satin garters complete with bows, and enough bone and underwire to heft my generous Ds to unbelievable heights — I was thinking about looking hot, not the practicalities of actually wearing it. But I needed to pull out all the stops, so here I was, all dolled up and ready for a little action.
Only, after lying in Daniel’s bed dressed like this for several hours, I was beginning to regret my choice of apparel. The underwire was starting to pinch, and the extra-strength boning didn’t exactly give a girl a whole lot of breathing room. So it was only natural that between a night of rerun-filled TV, the awkwardness of not being able to breathe properly, and a day spent battling Greystar and the forces of evil, I drifted off somewhere around 11.
I must have been so deep in dreamland I didn’t hear the door open and then close. Nor did I hear the muffled sounds of footsteps crashing through Daniel’s apartment.
2. The blood splattered on Maribel Thompson’s pillow and drying on her hand wasn’t hers, and neither were the boxer briefs tangled in her sheets. Her alarm clock lay dead on the floor, its cord snaked between shards of mirror and a trail of blood. The splintered mirror was a herald to seven more years of the luck she’d become accustomed to, and the blood was an all too familiar sight.
Sheer desperation stilled Maribel’s trembling flesh and drew her eyes into determined slits. There was only one thing left to do.
The man who had barricaded himself behind her bathroom door groaned. “You broke it!”
She had no choice but to end this nightmare once and for all.
3. “I’m not giving her this.” I stared in horror at the inscription on the back of the huge diamond tennis bracelet, the curvy, flowing writing a mix of sentimentality and ownership.
For B, my Love Shack(le) baby
B, for Britney, who just so happens to be my cousin…and the current secret fling of my married boss, Mason.
“Give it to her, Jenna,” Mason said calmly as he shuffled through the pile of paperwork on his large mahogany desk. He puffed out his chest, and underneath his white dress shirt, I could see the outline of the red M on his black superhero uniform–God help you if Mason overheard you calling it a costume.
M stood for The Machine, which Mason Wallings, mild-mannered businessman and CEO of MetalCo, became many years ago after a freak accident on tour in a local auto factory. Local newspapers speculated Mason had more mechanical body parts than natural–and, of course, people throughout the years have wondered which parts were metal, and which weren’t.
4. Ringing phones and telegrams only brought bad news. At two AM it was a guarantee. Unknown caller glowed on the display, but Nash’s gut told him to answer it anyway.
“Don’t ask questions, just listen, a contract’s been taken out on your sister. Talk her into selling the woman’s shelter or she’ll be dead by the weekend.”
“Who took out the – damn you, don’t hang up on me,” Nash paused to acknowledge the dead air before throwing the phone across the room.
It had been almost sixteen years since he had seen or spoken to his sister, and after what he’d done, he doubted she’d take his call, never mind give up her dream at his request. She’d fought hard to get her life together and he didn’t want to destroy it, by entering it again.
5. During the course of his quest, Dair Curator had lost count of the number of women he’d slept with. He didn’t care if he’d gotten a reputation for being a womanizer. He only cared about correcting his mistake. Angels don’t make mistakes, especially ones that cause the death of a Mortal.
Looking out the apartment window at the red sun slipping beneath the rolling green hills, the twinges of homesickness threatened to grip his body again, like an addict gone too long without a fix. Even now, to ease the sensation of worms slithering all over him, he fought the urge to brush off imaginary creatures and pace. The longing for home a soul sickness, he had to control his body’s yearnings in order to survive in the Mortal World long enough to complete his mission.
“Why don’t ya come back to bed, so we can make it an even six times, Honey?”
6. I stared at the nine men of my supposed dreams. Of my nightmares, more like, and theirs too judging by their stunned expressions as they stared back at me.
The show’s host said, “What’s wrong, Princess?”, the overdone innocence in his voice making it clear: this was no accident.
Horror and impotent fury spun through me, mingled with hatred of him for making me reveal the filthy trick the show had played on me.
“I’ve dated all of these guys,” I said, speaking with a calm I didn’t feel, not wanting to show him or the cameras how shaken I was. “And you knew that, Peter, since I listed them all on my application form, so–”
Peter said, “No, I suppose you really can’t be on a dating show with your exes” in a tone suggesting he’d never thought about it quite that way before and what a fascinating world view I had. Then he smiled and said, “Madeleine-Cora, gentlemen, we haven’t quite been honest with you.
7. Shattered like a goblet on a tile floor, Sarah Wild’s dreams lay in a tattered heap of shredded white silk and gossamer tulle. Her dress went from bridal perfection to remnants for the ragbag with her quick frenzy of ripping and tearing. She stomped from the remains of her dress and kicked it into a pile against the large tri-fold mirror.
A slow wiggle of her fingers conjured a fireball hovering above the palm of her hand. Bouncing it like a volleyball, she spiked it into the combustible material. Quicker than the flick of a wand, all that remained of her wedding dress was ash floating in the air-conditioned breeze of the bridal salon.
“I’m glad you already paid for that.”
Sarah whipped around at her sister’s mocking ‘I knew this would happen’ tone; ready to fling a fireball her way as well.
8. It’s hard to have a life when you’re the Angel of Death.
Aletta shimmered into the center of Orlando, metamorphosed into her usual human form, and watched and waited as more people died.
A chill slid through her and she walked into the Rialtmont entertainment complex, towards a dark elevator draped in spectral black crepe–open wide like a ravenous mouth waiting for its next meal.
Heaviness pressed against Aletta’s ribs–knowing what was about to happen, unable to change events and never allowed to interfere with a person’s fate–the same sad, final result of death.
A group of people including a woman with her toddler approached the open cavern, each step draining the brightness of their auras, their faces shadowed and lifeless.
The toddler fidgeted in her mother’s grasp, tears rolling down the little girl’s cheeks as she screamed again and again, the sound echoing around the foyer and jerking some nearby people from their conversations.
The girl’s terror slammed into Aletta’s chest, making it hard to breathe; the child’s thoughts jumbled, terrified, knowing what would happen if she went into that elevator.
I know you don’t want to go, little one, Aletta whispered to the girl, whose aura was still colorful, yet muted.
9. “Ever heard the phrase ‘out of the frying pan into the fire’?” Dan muttered as we stared at the huge black mirrored doors.
“You know, that’s what I love about you, always the optimist,” I said, trying to convince myself there was no reason for my reflection to look so nervous. Beyond the doors subterranean bass pounded, vibrating through my chest like a warning. A warning I had to ignore.

“We can still leave,” Dan said, sounding calm but looking grim.

“This will get me off the hook with Lord Marco,” I reminded him. And, frankly, repaying a debt to the oldest vampire in Seattle was the only reason good enough to get me to walk through these particular doors. Into Maelstrom – darkest of the city’s dark clubs – and, worse still, into a meeting with the vamp who owned the place.
10. “Pull out, pull out, please pull out,” she moaned.
Knees aching and her back screaming with pain, Lana knew she couldn’t take much more. Knees pressed to her chest, right up under her chin and her back curled the way it was, she would definitely pay for this in the morning.
If she survived.
When she first agreed to do this she had no idea what would happen. Good thing she didn’t, there was no way she’d have said yes.
Not even for Terri.
Damn Terri for getting her into this.
11. For someone with Kate Atkinson’s unique talent, finding England’s most infamous pirate had been easy. Catching him, however, was proving more challenging as Black Jack Snow darted like a cat between the bawdy houses, alehouses and hovels squatting along the south bank of the Thames.
“Curses,” muttered Aunt Winifred between bosom-heaving breaths, “we lost him.”
Kate could think of more appropriate words than “curses”, most of which she’d overheard earlier while waiting for Snow outside a particularly unsavory tavern, but she refrained from using them in her aunt’s presence. Instead, she rubbed the talisman clenched in her fist. The midnight blue sapphire felt smooth against her thumb and the gold band of the gentleman’s ring grew warm.
In a steady voice, she chanted the words her mother had taught her many years ago before her death.
“Through this ring which I hold,
Through these eyes which I see,
Show me the one I seek,
Show him to me.”
12. They spied the dog first, lean, long-legged and pale as a moonbeam in the darkness. It passed through the woodland like a wraith, gliding silently from one night shadow to the next as Hugo de Mercure watched from the battlements – and waited.
“Over there,” the youth beside him hissed, pointing towards a taller, darker shape trailing the hound, “to the right of the great oak.”
With a barely audible curse, Hugo turned from the parapet and swept down the narrow staircase, the soft leather on the soles of his boots barely making a whisper despite the haste of his flight. At a small wooden door set deep into the stone rampart he stopped and drew his sword, bracing his back against the stone. Moments later the soft click of a latch being lifted brought his body to attention and his sword arm up.
The moonwraith hound streaked from the blackness of the opening and Hugo dropped his sword – no more than the breadth of a horse hair in front of the taller figure swathed a dark cloak.
He heard a sharp intake of breath followed by a soft chuckle as the woman turned towards him, her face as pale and ethereal in the moonlight as the animal she followed.
13. Emma Morris looked out the back window of Zelda’s Magical Diner at the rows of tomato plants heavy with the red fruit, and something free and wild inside her unfurled. The lush garden mesmerized her, so different from the hardscrabble Texas ground she’d known until she was fifteen and her parents bundled her off to her aunt Zelda in Wisconsin.
This summer, ten years later, the abundance of plants wasn’t the only attraction. A man hunkered down to pick tomatoes, his back to her, the sun playing shadow and light across his skin. In her mind she pictured his eyes, the rich brown of the earth, gazing into hers as if he saw something precious.
Rubbing her goosebumpy arms, she heard the floor creak behind her and caught the scent of jasmine.
“Don’t you love the way Duncan’s T-shirt clings to him when he sweats?” Ling stopped alongside her and sighed like a sad summer breeze.
14. He found her just before sunrise.
Icy shivers slid down the back of Reyn’s neck as he stormed towards the inert figure on the ground. He tried to tell himself that the trembling he felt in his hands was the adrenaline receding now his long night’s search was over. Ignoring the tremors, he forced himself to scan the area, making sure they would be alone for the short time he needed.
An eerie silence descended as he stretched his fingers towards her throat. Seconds seemed to stretch into hours as he waited to feel an answer to his unspoken question.
He almost missed it.
The faint thud beneath his fingertips was overshadowed by a dull hissing sound, prompting his body into an immediate cold sweat.
15. Remorse, the malicious shit, saddled up and rode Sierra Talbot’s heels like a haunted horse the day she blew back into the heart of Simon, Michigan.
A town she hadn’t seen or lived in for five years.
A town she hadn’t missed.
“Take a left here,” Carrie Swanson said, flapping her hand at an unmarked intersection lined with a decaying array of single-wides. “And then *tell me* I didn’t hear you right.”
“I wish I could,” Sierra said, wishing more with each passing mile this entire episode would turn out to be a bad dream. But the nerve-gnawing reality of her situation slammed into her one vicious pothole at a time as she crawled deeper into Simon’s dejected underbelly.
Sierra Talbot was back and headed for the wrong side of the tracks.
16. Dr. Ava Monroe listened intently as the subject screamed in pain. She held the man’s hand in place and watched his face contort in response to the stimulus. Suspicious, she let go of his hand, scribbled a few notes, then leaned back in her chair.
“On a scale of one to ten tell me how much it hurts.”
She continued to scrutinize him as he looked anywhere but at her. When he opened his mouth to speak she sat up straighter and raised a hand to stop him.
“And don’t lie to me.”
“The more it hurts the better, right?”
17. It seemed ironic that his own marriage should come undone at a house party whose sole purpose was to celebrate the promise of another.
From where he stood in his friend’s library, Marcus Elliot, the Duke of Westbrook, was able to stare out the library window and at the view beyond. A typical English garden laid spread out before him and, further in the background, the gentle hills tried vainly to beckon his gaze. A sense of lazy peacefulness seemed to permeate the scene, dotted here and there with those energetic few who had managed to leave their beds after last night’s festivities and were now slowly strolling the grounds.
Yet, as he stared so intently out the window and at the picturesque scene before him, Westbrook saw none of it. Not the glimpses of sunlight filtering through the leaves, nor the fluttering of the flower petals as a summer breeze kissed their smoothness. And certainly not the serenity of the couples wondering aimlessly along the many paths, the women of which contently twirling lacy parasols. Rather, the image in his mind’s eye was predominantly that of his wife and the turmoil rolling around in his soul a result of her softly spoken words from the night before.
18. There was only one coherent thought in Francesca’s mind as she huddled on the closed toilet seat, twisting her hour old wedding band. She needed to get the hell out of there, and fast.
“Easy said, harder done,” she muttered, the sound of her own voice bolstering her flagging courage.
Walking out of the reception with her head held high, lace veil floating behind her was worth a try, but she doubted she’d make it as far as the manicured lawns, let alone the wrought iron front gates. Marcus Airedale wasn’t going to willingly let his new bride just waltz off his estate, with enough evidence to finally convict him of murder.
She managed a lopsided smile as she patted the USB flash drive tucked into her French lace bra. It was all there and short of him strip-searching her in front of their wedding guests, he’d never find it. Now all she had to do was get it out of the country without anyone else dying.
19. “Face it, the only reason she could possibly have for marrying that old fart is to get her hands on his money.”
Nissa Hagan backed out of the ladies room, letting the door close quietly behind her. As she turned to go back down the hallway, laughter from the closed door fanned her humiliation. She wasn’t stupid, she knew being engaged to a much older man would cause speculation, but what she hadn’t expected was to hear her coworkers make crude fun at her expense.
As she was creeping furtively back to her desk, she heard someone call her name. “Wanna go to lunch?” Kim, her best friend and fellow realtor, asked.
She wanted to get out of that office more than she wanted to take her next breath, but of course she couldn’t. “Sorry, I have a potential client meeting me here in about ten minutes.”
20. “You look like a man who knows how to be wicked.”
Theron tore his gaze from the crowded club he’d been scanning and looked toward the bleach-blond bombshell rubbing like a cat against his arm. A heart pounding bass echoed through the dark room, making her words hard to decipher, but there was no missing her intent.
One long, white-tipped nail trailed down his chest as she puckered her heavily made-up lips, leaned in close and took a deep whiff of his scent. “I like to be wicked,” she purred. “In fact, handsome, I bet I could show you a thing or two that just might amaze you.”
Theron doubted it. In the lengthy expanse of his life there was little he hadn’t seen or done for that matter.
21. Lissa, Princess of Horvald, waited for Death. She stood, still and silent in the dank chill of the Great Hall, determined to meet her fate without cowering in fear. But fear hovered, beating against her mind like moth wings, relentless and inescapable.
Her father, the self-proclaimed King of Horvald was gone, swallowed up in the vicious cycle of victory and defeat. Now there was no protection for her, no way of avoiding the steady creep of defeat as it seeped through the walls and curled under the doors, like a foul, poisoned miasma.
He wanted her, this Warlord called Death.
He’d killed her father and now demanded she appear before him to beg for mercy.
But she would not beg.
22. “Ah, baby, that’s it…just a little…um, yeah…” he urged, his low ragged moan changing to a satisfied growl. Sweat droplets beaded around his receding, yet still dark hairline, and if he opened his eyes to look at her on top of him he would think she was enjoying herself as well–she’d slid her lips into a sexy smile to hide her revulsion.
Crumpled satin sheets clung in damp patches around her knees; her muscles quivered like a lioness ready to pounce, but she cautioned herself to wait, knowing the outcome of this planned encounter even if he didn’t. To temper her impatience she brought to mind the refrain from “Another One Bites the Dust,” letting it run through her head in a slow easy beat.
“You like it when I do this?” she asked, and increased her rhythm in time to music only she heard; faster, harder, squeezing him with her inner muscles, bringing him to the edge, denying him.
He grabbed her hips with his bony, surprisingly strong hands, trying to buck his way deeper inside, and her resistance changed the sex into a struggle for dominance. How fitting that this time she wielded the power, and he would lose.
His determined dance for domination ended moments later when he lost control; his body stiffened, then pumped wildly beneath her.
23. The frilly bedroom had been recently decorated in red – blood red. Panicked, Samantha Blair struggled to move; this wasn’t her room or her bed and it sure as hell wasn’t her body. Tears welled and trickled slowly, sadly from eyes not her own and then the pain started; still she couldn’t move. She could only endure as terror clawed at her soul and dying nerves screamed in agony.
The silence, when it came, was absolute.
Then the whispers started. They poured from the shadows in a one writhing morass, each indistinguishable from the other … except for one. So melancholy, so achingly poignant it broke Sam’s heart, but it was the words that sliced deep into her soul.
24. Chocolate was made for moments like this. Standing for the first time on a Japanese street corner, I reached into my purse for the Hershey Kiss I had stashed in the zipper compartment for emergencies, but came up with a handful of brown ooze and an empty foil wrapper. Feeling the pulse of the city rushing all around me, I scanned the mirror-covered skyscrapers wearing their neon signs like fancy hats. So this was Tokyo.
As I waited for the light to change, the streets teamed with people scurrying everywhere like anti-bodies battling for a place in the blood stream. Looking at the chaos around me, I still couldn’t believe that a simple dare from my best friend had me standing more than five thousand miles from home. One minute I was innocently eating a tuna salad sandwich, the next I’m in mid-chew agreeing to a proposition that would change my life.
According to my best friend Linda, her dare was just what I needed; a good swift kick in the ass.
25. Nick jumped as someone’s fingers slid down the back of his jeans. His hand jerked and his signature turned into a scrawl across the Rolling Stone cover.
“Nickee…Nickee…” bayed the pack of girls, as one of them shoved a scrap of lace into his shirt pocket.
“Nickee, marry me!”
He glanced to his left, to the wide-eyed wispy girl in the green striped school uniform. Hell, he had to get away…and fast.
He gritted his teeth, sucked in air, and summoned control.
Even so, a stream of curses for Cat and Tash and the whole shebang shot to his lips.

Good luck!

K*

Share:

[et_social_share]

34 Comments

  1. Lara Rose

    It was right around 10 p.m. that I realized merry widows were made to be ripped off right away, not to be worn for an all-night TV marathon.
    When I’d first put on the incredibly revealing costume “” come-fuck-me red lace, satin garters complete with bows, and enough bone and underwire to heft my generous Ds to unbelievable heights “” I was thinking about looking hot, not the practicalities of actually wearing it. But I needed to pull out all the stops, so here I was, all dolled up and ready for a little action.
    Only, after lying in Daniel’s bed dressed like this for several hours, I was beginning to regret my choice of apparel. The underwire was starting to pinch, and the extra-strength boning didn’t exactly give a girl a whole lot of breathing room. So it was only natural that between a night of rerun-filled TV, the awkwardness of not being able to breathe properly, and a day spent battling Greystar and the forces of evil, I drifted off somewhere around 11.
    I must have been so deep in dreamland I didn’t hear the door open and then close. Nor did I hear the muffled sounds of footsteps crashing through Daniel’s apartment.
    Nope, I stayed sound asleep right up until the moment Daniel landed on top of me.

  2. Wendi

    The blood splattered on Maribel Thompson’s pillow and drying on her hand wasn’t hers, and neither were the boxer briefs tangled in her sheets. Her alarm clock lay dead on the floor, its cord snaked between shards of mirror and a trail of blood. The splintered mirror was a herald to seven more years of the luck she’d become accustomed to, and the blood was an all too familiar sight.
    Sheer desperation stilled Maribel’s trembling flesh and drew her eyes into determined slits. There was only one thing left to do.
    The man who had barricaded himself behind her bathroom door groaned. “You broke it!”
    She had no choice but to end this nightmare once and for all. “If you come back to bed, I can make it feel better.”

  3. Donna

    Karin,
    I screamed and danced, so happy to still be in. Here’s my lines.

    Ringing phones and telegrams only brought bad news. At two AM it was a guarantee. Unknown caller glowed on the display, but Nash’s gut told him to answer it anyway.

    “Don’t ask questions, just listen, a contract’s been taken out on your sister. Talk her into selling the woman’s shelter or she’ll be dead by the weekend.”

    “Who took out the ““ damn you, don’t hang up on me,” Nash paused to acknowledge the dead air before throwing the phone across the room.

    It had been almost sixteen years since he had seen or spoken to his sister, and after what he’d done, he doubted she’d take his call, never mind give up her dream at his request. She’d fought hard to get her life together and he didn’t want to destroy it, by entering it again. He needed someone he trusted to protect Shelby and only one man came to mind, his ex-partner, Devin.

  4. Rhonda Stapleton

    WOO HOOOOOOOO!! YAY! And big congrats to everyone who made it!!!

    Here’s mine:

    “I’m not giving her this.” I stared in horror at the inscription on the back of the huge diamond tennis bracelet, the curvy, flowing writing a mix of sentimentality and ownership.

    For B, my Love Shack(le) baby

    B, for Britney, who just so happens to be my cousin…and the current secret fling of my married boss, Mason.

    “Give it to her, Jenna,” Mason said calmly as he shuffled through the pile of paperwork on his large mahogany desk. He puffed out his chest, and underneath his white dress shirt, I could see the outline of the red M on his black superhero uniform”“God help you if Mason overheard you calling it a costume.

    M stood for The Machine, which Mason Wallings, mild-mannered businessman and CEO of MetalCo, became many years ago after a freak accident on tour in a local auto factory. Local newspapers speculated Mason had more mechanical body parts than natural”“and, of course, people throughout the years have wondered which parts were metal, and which weren’t.

    If the rumors were true, there were plenty of women who could comment on The Machine’s parts, including those “private” ones he couldn’t seem to keep tucked away.

  5. Judy Sabel Soifer

    During the course of his quest, Dair Curator had lost count of the number of women he’d slept with. He didn’t care if he’d gotten a reputation for being a womanizer. He only cared about correcting his mistake. Angels don’t make mistakes, especially ones that cause the death of a Mortal.

    Looking out the apartment window at the red sun slipping beneath the rolling green hills, the twinges of homesickness threatened to grip his body again, like an addict gone too long without a fix. Even now, to ease the sensation of worms slithering all over him, he fought the urge to brush off imaginary creatures and pace. The longing for home a soul sickness, he had to control his body’s yearnings in order to survive in the Mortal World long enough to complete his mission.

    “Why don’t ya come back to bed, so we can make it an even six times, Honey?”

    He shot a glance at the bottle-dyed blonde who stretched like a contented cat on the queen size bed.

  6. Rachel.C

    “Pull out, pull out, please pull out,” she moaned.
    Knees aching and her back screaming with pain, Lana knew she couldn’t take much more. Knees pressed to her chest, right up under her chin and her back curled the way it was, she would definitely pay for this in the morning.
    If she survived.
    When she first agreed to do this she had no idea what would happen. Good thing she didn’t, there was no way she’d have said yes.
    Not even for Terri.
    Damn Terri for getting her into this.
    Why did every major screw up in her life have Terri’s name all over it?

  7. Amanda

    Wheeee! Congrats to everyone who made it.

    Shattered like a goblet on a tile floor, Sarah Wild’s dreams lay in a tattered heap of shredded white silk and gossamer tulle. Her dress went from bridal perfection to remnants for the ragbag with her quick frenzy of ripping and tearing. She stomped from the remains of her dress and kicked it into a pile against the large tri-fold mirror.

    A slow wiggle of her fingers conjured a fireball hovering above the palm of her hand. Bouncing it like a volleyball, she spiked it into the combustible material. Quicker than the flick of a wand, all that remained of her wedding dress was ash floating in the air-conditioned breeze of the bridal salon.

    “I’m glad you already paid for that.”

    Sarah whipped around at her sister’s mocking ‘I knew this would happen’ tone; ready to fling a fireball her way as well. Her head pounded with each heartbeat at the familiar pitying look in Suzannah’s eyes.

  8. Nikki Beynon

    Hi all,

    Just a quick note to ‘out’ myself as the dirty double-poster from round seven. Absolutely, honestly and completely unintentional. I really did think a single dialogue tag counted as a line.

    So… muchos good luck to those who are still in the game (getting right down to crunch now), thanks so much Karin for all the effort you put into this comp, and see you all next year (although I’ll be lurking to see the big 5 go through).

    (Maybe now I can concentrate on the MS I’m SUPPOSED to be working on *LOL*)

    Cheers

    NIKKI

  9. Carolyn

    For someone with Kate Atkinson’s unique talent, finding England’s most infamous pirate had been easy. Catching him, however, was proving more challenging as Black Jack Snow darted like a cat between the bawdy houses, alehouses and hovels squatting along the south bank of the Thames.

    “Curses,” muttered Aunt Winifred between bosom-heaving breaths, “we lost him.”

    Kate could think of more appropriate words than “curses”, most of which she’d overheard earlier while waiting for Snow outside a particularly unsavory tavern, but she refrained from using them in her aunt’s presence. Instead, she rubbed the talisman clenched in her fist. The midnight blue sapphire felt smooth against her thumb and the gold band of the gentleman’s ring grew warm.

    In a steady voice, she chanted the words her mother had taught her many years ago before her death.

    “Through this ring which I hold,
    Through these eyes which I see,
    Show me the one I seek,
    Show him to me.”

    The ring burned, branding her skin, but Kate didn’t let it go.

  10. Elvina

    It’s hard to have a life when you’re the Angel of Death.

    Aletta shimmered into the center of Orlando, metamorphosed into her usual human form, and watched and waited as more people died.

    A chill slid through her and she walked into the Rialtmont entertainment complex, towards a dark elevator draped in spectral black crepe–open wide like a ravenous mouth waiting for its next meal.

    Heaviness pressed against Aletta’s ribs–knowing what was about to happen, unable to change events and never allowed to interfere with a person’s fate–the same sad, final result of death.

    A group of people including a woman with her toddler approached the open cavern, each step draining the brightness of their auras, their faces shadowed and lifeless.

    The toddler fidgeted in her mother’s grasp, tears rolling down the little girl’s cheeks as she screamed again and again, the sound echoing around the foyer and jerking some nearby people from their conversations.

    The girl’s terror slammed into Aletta’s chest, making it hard to breathe; the child’s thoughts jumbled, terrified, knowing what would happen if she went into that elevator.

    I know you don’t want to go, little one, Aletta whispered to the girl, whose aura was still colorful, yet muted.

    The toddler stopped crying instantly, her face filled with defeat, then looked at Aletta one last time before burying her face in her mother’s neck.

  11. Bernita

    Nikki, I for one am very sorry to see you go. Mackenzie was my favourite.
    For myself I was astonished to come as far as I did.
    Thank you, Karin. It’s a pleasure to see stories unfold, intriguing line by intriguing line.

  12. Heather W

    I stared at the nine men of my supposed dreams. Of my nightmares, more like, and theirs too judging by their stunned expressions as they stared back at me.

    The show’s host said, “What’s wrong, Princess?”, the overdone innocence in his voice making it clear: this was no accident.

    Horror and impotent fury spun through me, mingled with hatred of him for making me reveal the filthy trick the show had played on me.

    “I’ve dated all of these guys,” I said, speaking with a calm I didn’t feel, not wanting to show him or the cameras how shaken I was. “And you knew that, Peter, since I listed them all on my application form, so”“”

    Peter said, “No, I suppose you really can’t be on a dating show with your exes” in a tone suggesting he’d never thought about it quite that way before and what a fascinating world view I had. Then he smiled and said, “Madeleine-Cora, gentlemen, we haven’t quite been honest with you. You’ve been given various explanations for why you’re here, but now it’s time for the truth: the ten of you will spend the next twenty-one nights on an island at a secret location.

  13. Elisabeth

    Honest mistake, Nikki. Don’t worry about it.

    Good luck finishing your manuscript. 😉

  14. Donna

    Nikki,

    I loved your story and was sad to see it cut. Good luck with the manuscript.

    Donna

  15. Keziah Hill

    Lissa, Princess of Horvald, waited for Death. She stood, still and silent in the dank chill of the Great Hall, determined to meet her fate without cowering in fear. But fear hovered, beating against her mind like moth wings, relentless and inescapable.

    Her father, the self-proclaimed King of Horvald was gone, swallowed up in the vicious cycle of victory and defeat. Now there was no protection for her, no way of avoiding the steady creep of defeat as it seeped through the walls and curled under the doors, like a foul, poisoned miasma.

    He wanted her, this Warlord called Death.

    He’d killed her father and now demanded she appear before him to beg for mercy.

    But she would not beg. Nor would she come at his call, like a whipped dog.

  16. Mel

    “Ever heard the phrase ‘out of the frying pan into the fire’?” Dan muttered as we stared at the huge black mirrored doors.

    “You know, that’s what I love about you, always the optimist,” I said, trying to convince myself there was no reason for my reflection to look so nervous. Beyond the doors subterranean bass pounded, vibrating through my chest like a warning. A warning I had to ignore.

    “We can still leave,” Dan said, sounding calm but looking grim.

    “This will get me off the hook with Lord Marco,” I reminded him. And, frankly, repaying a debt to the oldest vampire in Seattle was the only reason good enough to get me to walk through these particular doors. Into Maelstrom ““ darkest of the city’s dark clubs ““ and, worse still, into a meeting with the vamp who owned the place.

    Dan frowned, rubbing the fading scar on his right wrist.

  17. Brenda

    Remorse, the malicious shit, saddled up and rode Sierra Talbot’s heels like a haunted horse the day she blew back into the heart of Simon, Michigan.

    A town she hadn’t seen or lived in for five years.

    A town she hadn’t missed.

    “Take a left here,” Carrie Swanson said, flapping her hand at an unmarked intersection lined with a decaying array of single-wides. “And then *tell me* I didn’t hear you right.”

    “I wish I could,” Sierra said, wishing more with each passing mile this entire episode would turn out to be a bad dream. But the nerve-gnawing reality of her situation slammed into her one vicious pothole at a time as she crawled deeper into Simon’s dejected underbelly.

    Sierra Talbot was back and headed for the wrong side of the tracks.

    “You’re going to live in your grandfather’s old house?”

  18. Cheryel Hutton

    “Face it, the only reason she could possibly have for marrying that old fart is to get her hands on his money.”

    Nissa Hagan backed out of the ladies room, letting the door close quietly behind her. As she turned to go back down the hallway, laughter from the closed door fanned her humiliation. She wasn’t stupid, she knew being engaged to a much older man would cause speculation, but what she hadn’t expected was to hear her coworkers make crude fun at her expense.

    As she was creeping furtively back to her desk, she heard someone call her name. “Wanna go to lunch?” Kim, her best friend and fellow realtor, asked.

    She wanted to get out of that office more than she wanted to take her next breath, but of course she couldn’t. “Sorry, I have a potential client meeting me here in about ten minutes.”

    Kim nodded and had started to turn away when Nissa blurted, “I’m marrying William because I care about him, not because of his money.”

  19. Cindy

    Dr. Ava Monroe listened intently as the subject screamed in pain. She held the man’s hand in place and watched his face contort in response to the stimulus. Suspicious, she let go of his hand, scribbled a few notes, then leaned back in her chair.

    “On a scale of one to ten tell me how much it hurts.”

    She continued to scrutinize him as he looked anywhere but at her. When he opened his mouth to speak she sat up straighter and raised a hand to stop him.

    “And don’t lie to me.”

    “The more it hurts the better, right?” Like a guilty child he avoided eye contact, taking great interest in a piece of dirt on his shoe.

  20. Carmen Evans

    testing testing

    Sorry, guys. Just seeing if I have the italic command right.

  21. Carmen Evans

    Oh, well. Half right.

  22. Carmen Evans

    It seemed ironic that his own marriage should come undone at a house party whose sole purpose was to celebrate the promise of another.

    From where he stood in his friend’s library, Marcus Elliot, the Duke of Westbrook, was able to stare out the library window and at the view beyond. A typical English garden laid spread out before him and, further in the background, the gentle hills tried vainly to beckon his gaze. A sense of lazy peacefulness seemed to permeate the scene, dotted here and there with those energetic few who had managed to leave their beds after last night’s festivities and were now slowly strolling the grounds.

    Yet, as he stared so intently out the window and at the picturesque scene before him, Westbrook saw none of it. Not the glimpses of sunlight filtering through the leaves, nor the fluttering of the flower petals as a summer breeze kissed their smoothness. And certainly not the serenity of the couples wondering aimlessly along the many paths, the women of which contently twirling lacy parasols. Rather, the image in his mind’s eye was predominantly that of his wife and the turmoil rolling around in his soul a result of her softly spoken words from the night before.

    I love you.

  23. Lisa

    Nick jumped as someone’s fingers slid down the back of his jeans. His hand jerked and his signature turned into a scrawl across the Rolling Stone cover.
    “Nickee…Nickee…” bayed the pack of girls, as one of them shoved a scrap of lace into his shirt pocket.
    “Nickee, marry me!”
    He glanced to his left, to the wide-eyed wispy girl in the green striped school uniform. Hell, he had to get away…and fast.
    He gritted his teeth, sucked in air, and summoned control.
    Even so, a stream of curses for Cat and Tash and the whole shebang shot to his lips. He’d still be in the safety of the hotel if not for them…and his temper.

  24. Calliope

    #12
    They spied the dog first, lean, long-legged and pale as a moonbeam in the darkness. It passed through the woodland like a wraith, gliding silently from one night shadow to the next as Hugo de Mercure watched from the battlements ““ and waited.
    “Over there,” the youth beside him hissed, pointing towards a taller, darker shape trailing the hound, “to the right of the great oak.”
    With a barely audible curse, Hugo turned from the parapet and swept down the narrow staircase, the soft leather on the soles of his boots barely making a whisper despite the haste of his flight. At a small wooden door set deep into the stone rampart he stopped and drew his sword, bracing his back against the stone. Moments later the soft click of a latch being lifted brought his body to attention and his sword arm up.
    The moonwraith hound streaked from the blackness of the opening and Hugo dropped his sword – no more than the breadth of a horse hair in front of the taller figure swathed a dark cloak.
    He heard a sharp intake of breath followed by a soft chuckle as the woman turned towards him, her face as pale and ethereal in the moonlight as the animal she followed.
    “My Lord should take care lest he startle the magic from my soul,” the apothecary said in a voice too low for a girl but too musical for a man.

  25. Edie

    Emma Morris looked out the back window of Zelda’s Magical Diner at the rows of tomato plants heavy with the red fruit, and something free and wild inside her unfurled. The lush garden mesmerized her, so different from the hardscrabble Texas ground she’d known until she was fifteen and her parents bundled her off to her aunt Zelda in Wisconsin.

    This summer, ten years later, the abundance of plants wasn’t the only attraction. A man hunkered down to pick tomatoes, his back to her, the sun playing shadow and light across his skin. In her mind she pictured his eyes, the rich brown of the earth, gazing into hers as if he saw something precious.

    Rubbing her goosebumpy arms, she heard the floor creak behind her and caught the scent of jasmine.

    “Don’t you love the way Duncan’s T-shirt clings to him when he sweats?” Ling stopped alongside her and sighed like a sad summer breeze.

    Emma froze, unable to answer Ling, unable to tear her gaze from Duncan, her instincts screaming at her to run.

  26. Andrea

    He found her just before sunrise.

    Icy shivers slid down the back of Reyn’s neck as he stormed towards the inert figure on the ground. He tried to tell himself that the trembling he felt in his hands was the adrenaline receding now his long night’s search was over. Ignoring the tremors, he forced himself to scan the area, making sure they would be alone for the short time he needed.

    An eerie silence descended as he stretched his fingers towards her throat. Seconds seemed to stretch into hours as he waited to feel an answer to his unspoken question.

    He almost missed it.

    The faint thud beneath his fingertips was overshadowed by a dull hissing sound, prompting his body into an immediate cold sweat. His mind screamed a single word at him.

  27. Helen

    There was only one coherent thought in Francesca’s mind as she huddled on the closed toilet seat, twisting her hour old wedding band. She needed to get the hell out of there, and fast.

    “Easy said, harder done,” she muttered, the sound of her own voice bolstering her flagging courage.

    Walking out of the reception with her head held high, lace veil floating behind her was worth a try, but she doubted she’d make it as far as the manicured lawns, let alone the wrought iron front gates. Marcus Airedale wasn’t going to willingly let his new bride just waltz off his estate, with enough evidence to finally convict him of murder.

    She managed a lopsided smile as she patted the USB flash drive tucked into her French lace bra. It was all there and short of him strip-searching her in front of their wedding guests, he’d never find it. Now all she had to do was get it out of the country without anyone else dying.

    As the outer door opened letting in a blast of music and laughter with a waft of all too familiar scent, Francesca froze, one slim silver shoe dropping off her foot.

  28. Elisabeth

    “You look like a man who knows how to be wicked.”

    Theron tore his gaze from the crowded club he’d been scanning and looked toward the bleach-blond bombshell rubbing like a cat against his arm. A heart pounding bass echoed through the dark room, making her words hard to decipher, but there was no missing her intent.

    One long, white-tipped nail trailed down his chest as she puckered her heavily made-up lips, leaned in close and took a deep whiff of his scent. “I like to be wicked,” she purred. “In fact, handsome, I bet I could show you a thing or two that just might amaze you.”

    Theron doubted it. In the lengthy expanse of his life there was little he hadn’t seen or done for that matter.

    He gently pushed her finger away and went back to scanning the club for the gynaika he’d been sent here to find.

  29. Diane Della Maggiora

    “Ah, baby, that’s it…just a little…um, yeah…” he urged, his low ragged moan changing to a satisfied growl. Sweat droplets beaded around his receding, yet still dark hairline, and if he opened his eyes to look at her on top of him he would think she was enjoying herself as well–she’d slid her lips into a sexy smile to hide her revulsion.

    Crumpled satin sheets clung in damp patches around her knees; her muscles quivered like a lioness ready to pounce, but she cautioned herself to wait, knowing the outcome of this planned encounter even if he didn’t. To temper her impatience she brought to mind the refrain from “Another One Bites the Dust,” letting it run through her head in a slow easy beat.

    “You like it when I do this?” she asked, and increased her rhythm in time to music only she heard; faster, harder, squeezing him with her inner muscles, bringing him to the edge, denying him.

    He grabbed her hips with his bony, surprisingly strong hands, trying to buck his way deeper inside, and her resistance changed the sex into a struggle for dominance. How fitting that this time she wielded the power, and he would lose.

    His determined dance for domination ended moments later when he lost control; his body stiffened, then pumped wildly beneath her. The force of his orgasm subsided, but with the need to keep him distracted, she used her breasts to full advantage, massaging them against his age-sunken chest.

  30. Diane Della Maggiora

    Nikki,

    I, too, was sorry to see you go. Bummer on the mistake.

    Congratulations and good luck to everyone still in!

  31. Dale

    The frilly bedroom had been recently decorated in red ““ blood red. Panicked, Samantha Blair struggled to move; this wasn’t her room or her bed and it sure as hell wasn’t her body. Tears welled and trickled slowly, sadly from eyes not her own and then the pain started; still she couldn’t move. She could only endure as terror clawed at her soul and dying nerves screamed in agony.

    The silence, when it came, was absolute.

    Then the whispers started. They poured from the shadows in a one writhing morass, each indistinguishable from the other … except for one. So melancholy, so achingly poignant it broke Sam’s heart, but it was the words that sliced deep into her soul.

    “Help … my baby … I’m so sorry … please,” she wailed incoherently into the chaos, “help her!”

  32. Dale

    Sorry, I put up the tag. Here it is again!

    The frilly bedroom had been recently decorated in red ““ blood red. Panicked, Samantha Blair struggled to move; this wasn’t her room or her bed and it sure as hell wasn’t her body. Tears welled and trickled slowly, sadly from eyes not her own and then the pain started; still she couldn’t move. She could only endure as terror clawed at her soul and dying nerves screamed in agony.

    The silence, when it came, was absolute.

    Then the whispers started. They poured from the shadows in a one writhing morass, each indistinguishable from the other … except for one. So melancholy, so achingly poignant it broke Sam’s heart, but it was the words that sliced deep into her soul.

    “Help … my baby … I’m so sorry … please,” the voice wailed incoherently into the chaos, “help her!”

  33. Dale

    Okay, it’s late. That should have read, I put up the wrong tag.

    Now,I’m done.

    Thanks Karin and sorry for posting a mistake and having to correct it.

    Dale

  34. Karen Van

    Chocolate was made for moments like this. Standing for the first time on a Japanese street corner, I reached into my purse for the Hershey Kiss I had stashed in the zipper compartment for emergencies, but came up with a handful of brown ooze and an empty foil wrapper. Feeling the pulse of the city rushing all around me, I scanned the mirror-covered skyscrapers wearing their neon signs like fancy hats. So this was Tokyo.

    As I waited for the light to change, the streets teamed with people scurrying everywhere like anti-bodies battling for a place in the blood stream. Looking at the chaos around me, I still couldn’t believe that a simple dare from my best friend had me standing more than five thousand miles from home. One minute I was innocently eating a tuna salad sandwich, the next I’m in mid-chew agreeing to a proposition that would change my life.
    According to my best friend Linda, her dare was just what I needed; a good swift kick in the ass.

    When the signal blinked green and I began weaving my way through the bustling crowds, it struck me; Linda was right.

Trackbacks/Pingbacks

  1. Magical Musings » Blog Archive » Guest Blogger: Mai Christy Thao - [...] I often read what the pros have done and try to incorporate their techniques and writing styles into my…

Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Archives

  • 2013 (2)
  • 2012 (7)
  • 2011 (10)
  • 2010 (41)
  • 2009 (156)
  • 2008 (165)
  • 2007 (160)
  • 2006 (149)
  • 2005 (26)