“Papa, the children of the shells, they—“
Papa continued to walk, gifting Kyra space and silence.
“They seem lonely.”
Still Papa walked along the beach, a steady pace neither rushed nor purposeful, just walking to walk as he would say. He offered no opinion.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you think too much.”
Kyra kicked a shell into the surf. Papa bowed his head, placed his hands behind his back and continue to walk, his white tunic flapping in the ocean breeze. No footprints.
“I’m serious Papa.”
“I’m not.”
“What does that mean?”
“Listen to the ocean. Is it lonely? Is it serious?”
“Papa? Papa!”
Kyra gasped for breath. Her abs contracting, painfully, involuntarily as another volume of viscous blue liquid expelled itself from her bowels. Sucking for air, her throat burned. Her eyes watered such to make everything seem blurry, faded, out of focus. Pain, fear, the unknown, however, have there own way of rendering sight blind, of thought single minded. Grabbing the sides of her bed, her nails as claws, her chest heaved upward, her heart jumping as if it could escape. Her plaintive wail, both of child and adult, brought glass to tears of flickering shards as so much confetti.
“Papa!”
Papa was more distant now. His head still bowed and he walked without turning, without acknowledgment.
Kyra’s lithe body hardened, her muscles straining, against what she did not know. Her teeth ached with pains sharp and dull. Each joint, from elbow to ankle screamed as if on fire. Papa slipped from sight as if consumed by the shimmering waves of despair. Her hands slackened. The room fell quiet.
Rog looked at John, who looked at Von. “I can’t take this anymore. Back away from the door.” Before anyone could stop Rog, six rounds from his las pistol burned into the door and from six holes came light so brilliant, so blinding . . .
36 comments:
Oh, dear, the six rounds fired certainly do leave one wondering -- and shouting, "What?! Tell me!"
If I did you might not come back. And I want you to come, back. :-)
Oh, I keep coming back.:-)
Scary, painful, confusing. What, why. Absolutely gripping, it's like the a never-ending game of pass-the-parcel. With each layer of colourful wrapping paper that gets wripped off, there's another equally colourful underneath, and the music will play a while before we get to unwrap another.
I (H) DT!
But is it me or my coffee that brings you back? ;-)
Sunshine, is this chapter not as clear as day? :-D
Memory mixes with the moment such that where one ends and the other begins is hard to say. Papa tries to remind her that both are as brothers and neither speaks with straight tongue. Her head is pushed under again but she won't let go. Again, she resists. And again. She can't breathe. And again. Yet, still she holds on. She chokes and her heart feels like it is going to explode and she cries out for Papa, but he can't help her, he can't make her soul shine. Still again, she cries out as child, as adult, begging, pleading, on bended knee, puking and vomiting, retching, clawing--and he slips away as despair rises and hope fades and her grip relaxes as she cannot sustain the struggle.
Like I said, clear as day. :-D
By the way, I think Mairi is about to blindfold Trev, practice a little aroma therapy as she kisses his tender lips in such a detailed and sensual way that my keyboard melted. Then, as she did with Yul, gently slip into his mind and the two of them exchange essence. :-D
There are things more charming than good coffee. Or perhaps it's your appreciation of smooth pink nails. Or -- maybe I just like the hat.:-)
That's a decidedly sensuous interlude between Mairi and Trev. I hope you've replaced the melted keyboard so you can finish it.
SJ, I've been thinking about her kiss all day long. The warmth, the softness, the slippery wetness, the firmness, the intensity, the passionate energy, her eyes closed and the soft warm light reflected off her eye lids. Her hair falling into his face, her hands on his temples, but I come back to her lips, sucking, biting, gliding, teasing, suckling, wrapping, brushing, pushing, molding, of breath shared as moans escape.
Then I think about her slipping into his mind and what a good mind-frail would be like and I imagine the most delicious and intense wet dream, the utter stickiness, the musky-sweet aroma of release, taken with a caress of neurons in ways the hands can only admire. I imagine her chest heaving with life, rising with curves divine, creating their own eclipse; and in the shadow of his surrender, a tenseness rendered with the crack of a whip, the slap of a glute, the exhilaration of being rode, hard.
Whew! You're making me want to kiss him myself. That's one of the most descriptive accounts of a kiss I've ever read. There are kisses, and then there are KISSES during which the whole world stops and holds its breath. You are very good at this. Mairi and Trev will never be ordinary mortal lovers.:)
I think about her breathing. I want to see her breathe, the pace, the depth, the richness of her exchange of good and bad. And from her breathe I want her eyes to match with a brilliance that cannot be manufactured. I want to delight in her softness and the pleasure of a curve as fine as a glass of red or white. I want to feel the warmth that only comes on sheets fresh and white, of hair soft in touch and light, of cheeks and dimples matching in sensual song played long and played slow.
The kiss has an energy that sends a shock from lip to eye and stirs emotion in the gut as only first love can. Lights swirl as flesh paints with passion upon flesh and hands talk in touches like feathers on silk. Her tongue narrows and darts with a playful precision and he follows her lead to places shared by few and desired by many. The bed seems to sink, to envelope them as if the sheet rose as waterfall port and aft. Golden hide graces porcelain digits as spoon to warm honey and endearments announce as gates open and trumpets play for an audience of two.
Trev leans his head back and presses hard into his pillow, as if to brace himself that all before him could be but a dream. Mairi lifts her chin and looks down from the bottom of her eyes, her lips slightly parted, glistening with lust pure; and with a feline arching of back, tosses her short auburn locks and closes her eyes as curtains between acts. Her tongue glides over her pert upper lip as her hips settle into position, moving and rotating as if greased, as if control was quartered not granted.
and then, she fucked him into tomorrow . . .
That'll sure catapult Trev into tomorrow.:)
You ARE in love with your character, which is a beautiful thing to see, but can any mortal woman ever measure up to her?:-)
Depends. How good can you kiss? :-D
Probably good enough to launch a small catapult effect.:-)
Mmmm, and I was already there with the polished nails neither too long nor too short. :-)
Hmmm. What would Mairi do?:)
Make hay while the sun was shinning. ;-)
And how would she go about doing that? Hey, you're the one in her head, not me.:)
Mairi is a Châtelaine, a Hynerian trained in the arts of pleasure and seduction at the highest levels of society. As such, her touch is subtle, sophisticated. A look here, a touch there, a word sung, a nod, a smile. Her manner of movement would shape the atmosphere, allowing her companion to move as in a dance with her leading and being lead. Her attention would be absolute, her intensity palpable. And her nails would be polished, pristine and neither too long nor too short. ;-)
I see. And will her companion ever take the lead in this ancient pas de deux, even become dominant, or will that remain eternally Mairi's role? Mairi might perhaps enjoy relinquishing control from time to time.:)
Mairi's skill allows her to be either dominate or submissive, as the case may dictate. Having said that, on a professional level, she is always in control. Now, in her personal affairs, well, Mairi hasn't shared those secrets with me, yet. :-)
I think you're right about Mairi. I've had flashes of her past, just bits and pieces, nothing complete, but I think the scene between her and Dr X, where he ripped off her blouse and pinched and pulled and twisted her erect and glowing blue nipples, well, I think we see she liked being tied down, taken, took pleasure in the pain, in the helplessness of her situation. I could be wrong, but I think she likes it a little rough in her own affairs, almost as if she needs to be punished for sins imagined.
Of course, you might see something very different in that chapter. ;-)
Dr Goldenhair Surprise
Yes, I see what you mean. It's not much of a stretch to see it in that light, glowing blue and all.:-)
Hynerian evolution. What can I say. Sometimes the story throws me a softball or two. :-D
Hynerian evolution,
Cultural revolution,
Trumps devolution.
I can see it.:-)
Yeah, I saw it pretty clearly too in my mind's eye, especially when Yul let her river of gold and silver chains flow from neck to valley in the blue light of arousal. :-D
Frail Me
Passing on more birthday wishes from my site:
From Keshi:
awww HAPPY BDAY Tre..MWAHHHHHHHHHHH!
From Autumn:
Happy Birthday, Poppet, xo
From Niki:
Happy Birthday!!
:D :D :D :D
That's some chapter. Frailing good.:-)
A belated Happy Birthday to you!
Thank you Saffy, you are an angel. I feel like this is my birthday week. :-D
SJ, my birthday is Friday. Saffy wasn't sure she would be online then, so she posted birthday wishes early.
As for Frail Me, well, it's on my short list of all time favorite chapters, perhaps because I remember very, very clearly the mood I was in when I wrote that one--sorta like the mood of yesterday when I imagined the kiss in the comments above.
By the way, one of the things I enjoy doing is revealing inspiration and "the kiss" was inspired by Kate Beckinsale's performance in Underworld Evolution, in particular the scene at the 38 minute mark. The movie, as a movie was utterly forgettable, but then again, I didn't rent it for the articles, this was nothing more than Kate in tight black zippered leather on parade. And she didn't disappoint. And I didn't even care that she can't act. :-D
You are leaving us in suspense.... baiting us and we bite back.... perfect.
Inside,Yul is the one that likes to bite. Just ask Rog. ;-)
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