{June 29, 2013}   It’s The Sound

you call and i fall
deeper with each word
it’s the sound
the tone
your voice
pulls me in and holds me captive
on the edge
of my seat and my sanity
about to slide and spiral into that place
you took me there before,
pushed me over easy ’cause i was already halfway there
i saw your shadow at that other place just the other day
your scent teased me even though it was just a memory
there to remind me to flip the hourglass
and set my watch
because you call and i fall,
it amazing how much can be accomplished in one afternoon
lips smoking

AUTHORS NOTE: Under threat of punishment my muse insisted I use this picture to represent her, please excuse my double dipping into the pool of Bing images (although I do attempt to use my own photos as much as possible) Please to enjoy, and I mean please because my muse is throwing a moody. And she is a harsh mistress.
“Tick Tock chica. And I thought I told you to stay away from fan fiction.”
God give me strength she’s back again.
“Don’t look to me for strength sweetie, you’re on your own with this one.”
“Blasphemer,” I dare to say.
Whenever she appears like this, out of nowhere, I swear those tiny little hairs on the back of my neck stand up just like a petrified dog.
“Piloerection,” my muse enunciates the unfamiliar word clipped and clear with a tinge of pretentiousness.
She hovers over me, literally floating in the air behind me.
“And again with the blank look,” she sneers. “Do you even know what a dictionary is?”
“Of course I know what a dictionary is,” I mumble to myself because of course she’s gone again.
“And I know what an erection is!” Sick of staring at a blank screen I open another window and type in the word ‘piloerection’. I hate when she pulls her Miss Know It All act on me. I hate it even more when she does know it all and she does, more often than not she does know it all. Oh she’s a crafty one, she is.
Show off. That’s what my muse is, a big old show off.
And I’m still staring at a blank wordless screen.
I’m never gonna get anything done at this rate and my muse is toying with me yet again.
“Oh but you make it so easy,” she breathes in my ear which, what the hell, she’s not even in the same room as me.
She sits indian-style smack dab in the middle of the glass topped coffee table in my living room, legs folded in front of her, a look of child-like innocence on her beautifully cruel face.
Her razor sharp teeth crunch into a shiny blood red apple straight out of the Garden of Eden.
“If you’re gonna continue to annoy me then at least cut me some slack, muse me up or something. Isn’t that your job or whatever?”
She ignored me for five minutes. I timed it.
“How you ever expect to come up with an original thought in somebody else’s playground is a mystery to me.”
She spoke with her mouth full, chunks of red apple slowly turning to mush behind her pointy little teeth.
“Just for the record missy, you need an attitude adjustment, but we’ll save all that fun stuff for later.”
Her words are in my mind but she doesn’t move her mouth, just stares at me with eyes full of nothing but chaos and disorder.
She’s wearing me down, getting the best of me once again and the best I can come up with is a long drawn-out yawn. My eyelashes begin to flutter and I fight to stay awake.
She feeds on me and she’s sucking me dry.
“Ah my little chica, am I boring you? Is it past your bedtime missy? Think fast.”
She throws the half-eaten apple at me and I catch it like the tomboy I once was. A big fat slimy worm is desperately trying to wiggle it’s way out. Poor thing.  I give my muse a dirty look and throw it out the back door. Let the birds deal with it.
“Real fucking funny,” I say.
“I thought so,” she says with pride.
Another five minute staring contest before she breaks the silence.
“Not so good with the follow through are you Miss Wanna-be?”
She looks me over slow head to toe and back again. I know she sees through my clothes through my skin through my soul through my everything. She knows all my secrets, even the secrets I don’t know.
I can’t read her, not unless she lets me. She’s not letting me.
But I know she finds me wanting.
Enough of this shit.
“Enough of this shit,” I say with conviction in my voice.
“I heard you the first time,” she interjects.
I start to pace.
“We, I mean I, I really need to find the point here. Some kind of point. Anything pointy, you know, a common thread that brings this all together. Wrap it up, so to speak.”
I look at her, a mixture of desperation and despair in my eyes, at least it feels that way.
“Wrap it up with a big shiny bow I suppose?” She nearly sighs the words.
Untangling her long legs she leaps from the coffee table to the middle of the room.
All eyes are on her as she stands stoic and silent. For so long I begin to get a cramp in my foot.
I wait for her to say something, anything.
For a very long time, nothing.
Then, “Tick tock, times running out and you backed yourself into a corner.” Only she sang it nursery rhyme style, slightly off key. Haunting.
“That’s what happens when you try to play with the big boys,” she barks out like a drill Sargent.
She holds out her hand, palm up, and a miniature easel appears. She dips one long fingernail into the tiny blood-filled bowl sitting next to the easel and scrawls a million tiny words in a language I don’t understand.
“What does that even mean?” She frustrates me so when she torments me like this.
“Don’t ask me, I’m just a figment of your imagination, right chica?”
She throws me a wink and blows me a kiss as she disappears again.
white red apple

to be continued, and further adventures of me and my muse are over ——> because i can’t make the links work, my muse took that ability with her when she disappeared, she’s probably someone else’s muse too…bitch…shhh, don’t let her hear that!

{June 27, 2013}   Sneaking Silent

i snuck outside that night
hot and sticky
slipping out the back
the way i used to do
before it all turned upside down
and the child became the adult
sleeping in that same old bed
sneaking silent all bare feet and legs, falling into you
there was a humming in the air
and i could find you blindfolded at the mere thought of your scent
crickets rubbed their hands together in gleeful anticipation
but nothing could cover the crackle and spark
inevitable and always
at your slightest suggestion
and after you showed me the heavens
i tucked away a glimmer of stardust
to get me through
till that next sticky night

{June 27, 2013}   That First Night

i remember that first night
just like it was yesterday,
it was quiet
enough to hear your heart beating in time with mine
your eyes were tired but the sparkle remained
because it never leaves you,
it was freezing that first night
your hands should have felt like ice
but they burned fire instead
sending shockwaves through my starved body
trembling desire
curling my toes,
there was this one moment when I looked at you
your eyes greedy on my face
maybe looking for a sign,
evidence of the miracle taking place
when you whispered low and urgent against my mouth
it became difficult to tell
where my breath ended and yours began
there was a sacredness to it all that first night,
as if the hand of God Himself came down from above
giving us His seal of approval
i bowed my head that night
in supplication and submission
willing you to take what belonged to you all along
you grinned mischievous-like as we shivered together
secure in the knowledge
that these precious moments of time
are worth everything
while knowing without a doubt
we could get used to this
couple kiss

{June 27, 2013}   Fiction Relay News

Hey! That’s me!!! {major long extended Happy Dance}
If you haven’t been following the Fiction Relay you are doing yourself a great disservice because it’s awesome! I had the pleasure of reading it all at once, and now I will have the honor of contributing to this most awesome story! Click. Read. Follow. You will be happy you did, I know I am! 😀

The Reclining Gentleman

Attention Relayers and Relay readers! I have a big announcement to make!

I am excited to announce that we have a NEW RELAYER! Yes that’s right, agents have been locked in what one day would have been smoke-filled rooms but are now mineral water-filled air-conditioned rooms, contracts gave been agreed and signed, and I am delighted to reveal that JOANNE has joined the Relayverse.

I know some of you read her work already, but for those who haven’t here is a link to her page. She is a great writer with a wonderfully creative mind and witty turn of phrase, and will be a valuable addition to the team.

I have decided to fit her in between Cara and Delilah – visit the already-updated HOMEPAGE to see the order, and to find links to every chapter so far, including KC’s Chapter 35 in which we find out more about Spencer…

View original post 27 more words

{June 26, 2013}   My Harsh Muse Returns

“You know you’re gonna screw it up.”
Her voice comes out of nowhere, loud enough to rattle the windows.
Shit. She’s back.
And I’ve been outed.
As in shine-your-light-on-me-Miss-Liberty-outed.
As in all-eyes-on-me-outed.
As in oh-fuck-what-now-outed.
“You can’t just thrust yourself into the middle of something all willy-nilly and expect results Missy.”
Each word is another bullet shattering my spine leaving me paralyzed.
I glance at the chapter I’d just spent hours writing and lose every ounce of confidence I had.
She was right.
“Of course I’m right. I’m always right.”
She waves her hand lazy in my direction as if she’s swatting away an annoying fly and I find myself face-down and naked on an unfamiliar carpet in my own living room.
She towers over me, one sharp spiked heel pressed painfully against my spine somewhere between my 4th and 5th vertebra.
I bite my lip to keep silent.
“No pain no gain chica,” she howls gleefully as she drags me slow from one side of the room to the other.
Her claw-like fingernails dig painfully into my scalp, drops of my blood fall like red teardrops.
My mouth tastes of copper pennies dipped in salt and I wonder where my clothes went.
I feel my flesh peeling back layer by layer, my bare skin stinging as she drags me face-down across the scratchiest rug I’ve ever felt. Talk about rug-burn-
“Rug-burn is what separates the men from the boys chica,” she interrupts me mid-thought, “Now get in position and give me 20.”
Her lovely manicured hand comes down and slaps me once, twice, three times across my bottom.
“You can’t even make yourself say ass you pathetic whining fool.”
She leans into me, sharply yanking my head back as she says this and I squirm in embarrassment, uncomfortable in the knowledge that she’s right.
“How many times do we have to go over this? I’m always right.”
Unexpectedly she releases her grip in disgust and I scramble away from her till I can’t go any further.
I find myself backed into a corner at the end of the hallway, the full length mirror reflecting back a nightmare.
Her leather-clad foot taps out a beat on the now hardwood floor, her arms folded, loathing in her eyes. Or maybe the loathing was in my own eyes.
“You,” she spits out, “are a fool. And you know what they say about fools and mirrors.”
At my blank look she rolls her eyes.
“Look it up,” she sneers, “and while you’re at it, look at your own self. Your half hearted efforts disgust me.”
I try to look at myself in the mirror and see nothing but bottomless chaos.
“Hey, this wasn’t my idea,” I attempt to reason with her, “and you’re the one who keeps disappearing.”
It’s true too, my muse always seems to disappear when I need her most.
“What is this,the blame-game?”
She hates when I dare to question her authority.
“There’s not a damn thing gonna turn out right if you don’t start taking some responsibility missy.” Her voice took on a decided chill, disappointment dripping from every syllable.
“When did you become so complacent,” she asked coldly.
A growing layer of frost forms over my entire body at her words.
“Truth hurts, don’t it chica?”
Her voice is like stale smoke.
I find it hard to catch my breath as her words began to swirl around me tornado-like.
“Bad enough you’ve bored me for so long, now you’re going for the masses?”
I hate when she’s right.
you can read more about my muse if the link i tried to add worked, but if it didn’t, My Muse Can Be A Harsh Mistress is over —-> there somewhere and as usual, to be continued

AUTHORS NOTE: I’m sorry, I had to use Buffy and Spike photo thingys with these words because, umm, because, ok,  for no other reason than I was just watching Buffy and look at all the pretty! Besides, Lizzie and James told me to do it. Now on with the show.

“Lizzie,” he warned.
James stopped my roaming hands and quickly twisted me around so he was standing behind me.
He wasn’t making it any easier for either one of us, the curve of my ass was now pressed against the unmistakably hard evidence that belied his expressed desire to behave.
I was calling bullshit on this whole no-sex thing, at least in my head.
It made no sense to me.
He had that tone in his voice, the one that tells me common sense was ruling his actions.
Sometimes I really hate when he lets common sense rule.
It’s no fun and gets in my way more than I’d prefer.
Stupid common sense.
I lean toward the thin side of the scale, James needed only one hand to hold onto my skinny wrists.
His other arm was wrapped loosely around my shoulders and for a brief second I allowed myself to lean back and relax against him. I had half a mind to torment him with a little wiggle or two but I’d be tormenting myself just as much.
Stupid, stupid common sense.
At times like this, when it’s just me and James and nobody else around, it’s easy for me to block out the rest of the world and pretend we were just two consenting adults about to fuck our brains out normal people with normal human problems.
No hiding from daylight, no weird dietary concerns, no-one kidnapping our loved ones, nobody trying to kill us… damn, this whole vampire thing was a lot harder than I thought it would be.
“I told you it wasn’t gonna be easy hon,” James spoke into my ear sending a shiver down my spine I did my best to ignore.
Realizing I’d spoken out-loud about my difficulty adjusting, I tried to slip out of his arms. I didn’t want him to know I was feeling all weak and girly so my first instinct was to bolt.
But James just tightened his grip and pulled me closer against his body.
We’re just about equal in height so all the good bits lined up perfectly.
There was a certain satisfaction knowing his self-control didn’t apply to every part of his body and I couldn’t help myself, I gave in to my impulse.
Surely one little wiggle couldn’t hurt.
I was wrong, it hurt in all the right ways when I heard that little groan he couldn’t disguise.
This was one of the times I was glad I didn’t have a heartbeat to give me away because it would be racing right about now.
My senses had heightened significantly since James turned me, the low rumble of his voice in my ear combined with the smell of him was about to make me dissolve into a puddle right where we stood.
This was bad. Really bad.
Trying to distract him with sex was backfiring, he was getting all kinds of nice and concerned about me which was the last thing I needed.
I didn’t need nice, I needed distraction before I broke down and started blubbering like a baby.
Why couldn’t he just shut up and fuck me so I could stop thinking?
When his arm clenched tight around me and he let out another growl, I realized I said that out-loud too.
to be continued

{June 25, 2013}   Reckless

i can love you reckless
or not at all
but i can’t love you safe and sound
not from a distance
especially not up close
i can’t live on vanilla
and you’ve been starved for far too long
same as me
if my will be done
i will you here
defiant and wrapped around me
open and about to burst
ready for the long-haul
and you sinking deep into my soul


There should be a video here; if the link doesn’t work because I did it wrong then it’s well worth the effort it takes to copy and paste that sucker and watch a few minutes of Mr. Whedon fighting a one-eyed monster as written by a kid in ‘Scary Smash’.
How could I forget?
How in the world is it possible that I forgot the Birthday of my Mental Mentor, The One, The Only, The Great Mr. Joss Whedon?

Yesterday, June 23rd, was Joss Whedon’s Birthday.
You know Joss Whedon.

Creative Genius?
Wordsmith Extraordinaire?
Creator of Awesome?
Best Character Builder in the existence of Character Building?
Person voted Most Likely To Break Your Heart By Killing Off Your Favorite Character?
Possibly also The Wisest Writer In The History Of Writers?

There’s nothing my little self could write to pay proper homage to a humble Genius such as Joss Whedon, so I shall simply say Happy Birthday Sir Joss, the grateful(ly growing) masses Thank You for the Gift of your words.
Oh and one more very important piece of advice from The Man Himself:
always be urself

{June 23, 2013}   Face Time

when the duality staggers me
it’s hard to catch my breath
coincidental overload stretches out for miles
and i swallow it,
choking on the bitter, savoring the sweet
push it down and push on through ’cause the other side’s just around the bend
though to the untrained eye it may appear
we are always on the verge of almost
there’s that little bit of face time to fall back on
in case of emergency

et cetera