Daydreams. 55 Fiction.

Blue sky

She dreamed of a kiss, too good to be true.  Her fingers gripped the lapels of his jersey.

“Wake up.”

She moaned.

Prod.

More moans… falling.

Falling?

Her eyes flew open, a delicious blush spread across her cheeks as she hit the ground.  He was looking at her.  The man of her dreams.  How embarrassing.

Advertisements

The Curse Mark: Chapter Eight

CAN ANGELS LIE: LENNOX VANDERWERKEN

Kisa Kevser was very kind.  She was patient, and she cared.  Those were the qualities of a pure angel.  But like any living being that could think, Kisa had thoughts on everything.  And she was not afraid to voice them when given the opportunity.  Lennox noticed this.  He noticed everything that was related to his little protégé because whatever happened to her, whatever she did, reflected on him.  Kisa though, was nearly perfect, if only she held her tongue a bit more.  But she couldn’t—didn’t know how to in any circumstance.

Lennox looked over at the long line of homeless youths waiting for their serve of soup for the night.  Each and every one of them had an expression on his or her face that communicated something, a feeling of great sadness.  Angels of the third rank were more in tune with the feelings of humans in conjunction with maintaining an objective stance toward them.  But third rank had fewer obligations to maintain objectivity compared to someone in second, and least of all the first rank.  Those in the first rank were closest the Almighty, and were least in tune with humans, and generally could not care less about them.  Standing here in this shelter was not entirely what someone of his rank should be doing.  But he thought it was a good place to start.  It was a good place for Lennox to isolate the pros and cons of Kisa Kevser, and then from there, slowly whittle away her cons and reshape her as the perfect angel she should be.

“We need more soup Lennox.” Lennox turned around to see Kisa standing there.  She had dress that covered the gems inset on her chest today, and one that made her look more innocent and childish than the other.   He also noticed that the sleeves, while gauze, were long and covered her arms entirely.

Lennox looked around for more soup, but one sweep of the kitchen told him exactly what he thought, “no more.  There’s no more.”  Turning back to the line though, he knew he would have to be the unlucky one to tell them that this meal was over.  Before he could though, Kisa’s hand was on his arm, and her musical voice said, “It’s okay, I will tell them Lennox.”

Lennox.  His name was pronounced Lennex, but the way she said it, made it sound more magical and desirable than how others said it, with the exception of Cara de Vries.

Nodding slightly, he watched her walk over to the line.  It shouldn’t have been shocking to see how her presence lightened the knowledge she was about to give the ones who missed out.

“Extraordinary angel, that one,” said Alona.  She was the manager of the shelter for the day. With long dark red hair and sharp eyes, she was also a human.    And she was a hard worker, even though every day she wore the same high stilettos and tight, face-stretching ponytail updo.  Alona looked taller than Kisa, but if he took her shoes away, Lennox was sure they were about the height.  She turned her eyes to look at Lennox, dark brown, with a glow of red, it took Lennox a moment longer to realise that she was younger than she seemed.  Tilting her head up to look at Lennox, she added, with a faint smile, “And I don’t think she’s in the right business.  Speaking of business, I don’t suppose she could partake in a shoot, with hair like that, she would fit right into the underwater theme we have going on at the moment at Bellezza.”

Lennox smiled sadly, “unfortunately no, she cannot.  But I understand what you mean,” he said in a fair and firm manner, so that she would not think to try and persuade him otherwise.

The girl smiled tightly and it was evident, she was hardly deterred by his words at all.

When Kisa came back to join them, she smiled politely at Alona, greeting and also saying her goodbye the way any good little angel would before Lennox took her away.  Lennox smiled at Alona, there’s no way I would leave you alone with her.  Alona though returned the smile, her eyes narrowed clearly reflecting the endless determination the girl was known for; she wouldn’t give up.  Which meant, if Lennox intended to fulfil his mentorship, he had to keep an even more watchful eye on Kisa to ensure that she did in fact learn to maintain angelic composure.

Outside, in the arid heat, Lennox tucked his forefinger under the collar of his polo and pulled it away from his neck.  Running his finger along the collar, he tried to widen the space as much as possible to let out the suffocating heat that was trapped between his body and the shirt he was wearing.  It wasn’t working.

“Like this.” Kisa reached up and loosen the buttons at the top of his polo.  Buttons he had buttoned up to maintain a sense of decency.  “You’ll be more comfortable that way,” she said smiling.

Continue reading

Imaginings of a Wild Heart.

The girl looked up at the sky, and said, “Did you know, I can read the stars?” She was trying to be cool and cute.  But she was slightly flustered, and she was shy.  Looking up at the guy standing next to her—rather she peeked up at him, and ‘peeked’ would have described it better if she actually had bangs or a hat for her peek from under, which she did not—she saw him look down at her, and she smiled.  Sort of.  It was a small smile, because she didn’t know if she should really play it cool and look really knowledgeable, or if she should play it cute, and smile brightly.  But she was wary of everything about herself.  She wanted to adjust her scarf, to brush her hair back, to lick her lips which were getting chapped.  But she didn’t want to seem overly conscious, so she just stuck with licking her lips, even though she could feel something in need of readjusting—her scarf, her shirt, or her bra, she didn’t know, but she hoped it wasn’t embarrassing.

“Oh?” He said.  He had his hands tucked in his pockets, and though they were standing close, she was standing a little away from him too.  She had asked him out, well asked if he would like to go and star gaze with her at the university.  He was busy, but it seemed she had caught him on a free night.  Or rather, he also had something to do here, and so it was all kind of convenient, nothing special really.

“Oh yes!  I can!”  She said, encouraged by his reply, which seemed like he was curious.  Or maybe he just didn’t believe her.  She didn’t believe her either, and this was either going to come across as corny, or maybe it would give her the answer she wanted to hear.  Or maybe, she was just going to embarrass herself.  She was hoping for the middle answer.

“Alright, go, tell me something.”

Crap.  How was she going to start this?  “Well…the stars tell me you’re a Taurus,” she began lamely.

He laughed, and she wanted punch him in the arm.  “You know when my birthday is!” He said laughing, and shifting away when she really did reach out to punch for his arm.  Her fist glanced off the hard, yet soft, fleshiness under that cotton sleeve of the hoodie he was wearing.

“Just listen!”  She said, flushing red, a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance, yet her mouth was parted in a smile.

“Okay, okay,” he said holding up his hand as she went in for another punch.  “Stop punching me and I will.”

He was such a liar.  Yet he was still here, looking overly amused.  Pouting lightly, and looking up at the sparsely cloud covered sky, she squinted.  All around them there were other stargazers wrapped in thick coats, puffy jackets, and some, even in blankets.   Most of them had telescopes, borrowed or purchased, set up in front of their chairs—a variety of camp chairs, stools, cushions on wood and even one office chair.  Even though the event was for a few hours only, people had gathered early, collected telescopes and settled in as if for the night.  She had been a little too late to get a telescope, but at least she had dad’s small one in her pocket.  Coming here had been on whim.  She had actually been late in hearing about the stargazing event, and had almost chickened out if he hadn’t asked what she was doing tonight in their regularly sporadic texting conversation.  An unexpected question and she had said the first thing that had popped into her head.  And he had asked if she was going to go, to which she had answered, quite thoughtlessly, “I want to go, but I don’t know…”  Being a girl, she couldn’t go alone, regardless of her age.  She didn’t have a car, and most of her friends lived on the other side of the city.  If she wanted to go out, fine.  But she usually had to be back before dark—lest she bring down the rain of worried parental censure and a storm of scolding for rebellious young girls.  And then he had surprised her, asking her if she wanted to go.  It wasn’t like he knew about her family and all their weird cultural—maybe it wasn’t cultural, maybe it was just parents being parents even though she wasn’t exactly sixteen anymore—it wasn’t like she wanted to share.  The last time she shared with a guy, it became the sky climbing wall between them.  What had possessed her to ask him?  In many ways, it had been perfect timing, and when she’d asked if he would go with her, and felt the extreme elation that came with knowing she had somewhat succeeded.

For as long as she could walk and talk and brush her hair, pull it back and make it look pretty, she had been unable to flirt.  In actuality, it wasn’t that she didn’t know how to flirt, it was just that with guys, she had a difficult time reacting.  It was always too embarrassing for her.   So she kept her mouth shut if there was a guy around, and even more so if that guy was good looking, tall and somewhat possessed an aura that she, with her daydream tendencies, could only daydream of having.   And if any of those guys talked to her, despite the fact that she had gotten better at talking to such guys over the years, she could rarely do little more than smile and answer the question.  Other than that, she was just shyly standing off to the side, awkward.

But with this guy, it had been kind of sudden, and it had been kind of vague between them—a grey cloud separating black to white.  He was everything she liked, dreamed of, and had hoped.  It seemed beyond real for her to be trading words with this guy, and yet it was so very normal.  For once, she had her head screwed on tightly, though, not so much when she was returning texts.  With those, she hardly knew what she was saying.  So maybe her head wasn’t tied on that tightly, but she wasn’t a teenager and she could handle this like a woman.

Woman.  If only she could be as smart and sophisticated as a woman should be—she was anything but which made her mind a whole lot more receptive to the torrent of daydreams that were coming to her on a daily basis.    Such wonderful daydreams.  So awfully farfetched.  But she enjoyed them nonetheless, doing no more, and no less than necessary when it came to him.  She liked the grey. She liked and disliked knowing and not knowing where they stood.   So why had she opened her mouth and asked him out.  Well rather, she had typed it into her phone, pressed send and had heart palpitations all evening until he replied back with ‘okay’.  Okay.  Such a simple word.   While in flowery terms, it sent her heart smashing out of her chest, soaring far and wide, in much simpler, plain and realistic terms, her hands had gone clammy and she fretted, thinking of cancelling five seconds after asking.

“So, what are the stars telling you?” He prompted her, jerking her out of her thoughts.

She was already here now, the sun was just about setting, meeting the horizon at the set time, just after six in the evening.  They were still standing, but that was okay.  There were others standing too.

She smiled, “you see up there?”  She pointed at a random constellation.  It was a surprise to see even that constellation up in the sky.  But then again, other than a few wisps of cloud, it was an unusually clear night.  But thankfully, and luckily too.

He looked at her first, then looked up too.

“I didn’t think it would be up there tonight, so this is purely coincidental, but it looks good,” she said wistfully.  She was making this up as she was going along.  It was not coming out like she had daydreamt in her head.  In her head, her speech had been smoother, and she had acted more sophisticated and cool.  An enviable persona.  But well, regardless of the fact that she was failing this miserably now, she was going to push ahead and try.

“Oh?”

She could hear that smile in his voice again, but she ignored it, swallowing hard, and ploughing on.  “Legend says if you see that constellation in the sky, it means your love life is going to improve.”  Corny.  Corny.  It had come out corny.  Why had she said it?

She couldn’t look at him now.

“And-it’ll-get-better-if-you-ask-the-one-you’re-interested-in-out-on-a-date,” she said, letting the words spill out in a single chunk.  She really couldn’t look at him now, and yet she dared to peek up at him, expecting a heavily dealt blow of rejection.  But if she was to think that she didn’t have a chance here, that if she had misread all the signs, then she really wouldn’t have a chance at all.  At the same time though, she didn’t want to build up expectations, she didn’t want to find herself in a position where she was worried constantly, fretting idiotically about whether a guy was interested in her or not.  She just wanted….what did she want?  Why had she asked if he wanted to come today?  What was she thinking in letting those words spill out?  Why couldn’t she just say ‘do you like me’?

He blinked, evidently something was going on in his mind that she couldn’t even conceive, and right now didn’t want to.  She was so tempted to close her eyes, squint and go back in time to when this never happened, but then he opened his mouth.

What happens next, I truly don’t know.  I thought about writing the ending, but honestly, I just thought this story up one random afternoon.  I was kind of daydreaming while scanning through facebook, and seeing that my university was holding a ‘break the star gazing record’ event, which, had I known earlier, I would have totally gone!   I wrote this immediately after I daydreamed it, but I never got to the ending, in my daydream or when I wrote it, and when I read it over, I realise, I don’t know how I would end it.   Maybe if I set it aside, thought about it, and edit it, I might know, but for now, I don’t know!

I would loovvveeee to know how you, my dear readers, fellow bloggers, and all friends, if you happened to have read the above all the way through, would end this short story!

Bear In Hibernation. 55 Fiction.

Sourced from here: Link

She is a bear, huddled in her blankets all covered.  Her hair splayed across the pillows, eyes closed.  The chill could not touch her.  The rain endlessly pouring, visible through the curtains.  She smells  it—and sleeps on.  Shoots spring from moistened land as the sun rises, spreading warmth.   And she awakens, stretching, welcoming spring.

[N.B] This time last year, it was unseasonable warm.  Although I dislike immense heat, I do prefer it to be a little warmer–I miss being able to walk out with only a t-shirt on!  (and pants of course!!!!)  I probably wouldn’t mind winter so much if we actually had snow down here–that would be fun!  (The novelty of it would exceed all negatives associated with it.) But no….down under only mountains get snow, flatlands get rain, rain, and more rain, which leads to mud, which leads to mud covered dogs, which leads to ten clothing changes in one day haha.  Ah well!  I’m looking forward to summer, and luckily, today is a nice cold but sunny day <3.

It Starts With You. 55 Fiction.

She opened the book, flipped the pages, breathed in the new book smell.  Her eyes moistened, becoming shiny and overcome with emotion.   There are no words she could use to express how she was feeling right now.  All she knew were the words on the page:  This is my story, and it starts with you.

Never Back Down. 55 Fiction

The man was beaten, thrown down to the ground, sweat, blood, cut to the bone.  His eyes rolled back, his life flashing before his eyes, and the world spinning out of his grasp.  She’s looking at him.  Fearful.  Afraid.  A lion roars in him, sends his blood raging.  He surges upwards—one punch knockout win.

.

The Curse Mark: Chapter Seven

A MOON AT STAKE:  ADRIENNE CYNZIA

When Adrienne woke up the next morning, Cara de Vries had managed to become shoved to the very back of her mind, becoming the least of her worries even though she should have been the most concerning problem in Adrienne’s bank of future disasters to come.  However, even though the sun was gloriously baking Adrienne as she lay in her bed, unwilling to force herself to complete her daily pre-bar opening routine, Adrienne could only think about the events of the night before.  She was here.  Selene was here, or as she went by here, Cynthia Kaminski, well known model.

Groaning, she rubbed her temples, blinking up at the plain cream ceiling.  Part of the ceiling was peeling to her left, tucked away in a corner that it was almost barely noticeable.  If you weren’t lying on the bed like Adrienne was, you wouldn’t have noticed it.  But right now, all Adrienne seemed to want to do was to stare at this imperfection on her ceiling.  Stare and stare until it became the bane of her existence forcing her out of her bed and into work clothes.  She wanted this imperfection gone, and while she wasn’t much of a handyman, she could fix a wall. It couldn’t be that hard.  So long as it was fixed, and the blemish was finally gone after living here for such a long time.

This was how Algor Rosenberg found her a few hours later when he arrived at the bar to help with the pre-bar opening routine.  He had just walked in downstairs when he heard a string of angry French swear words explode from above, and with one glance around, it was obvious that there was no one else around.  With no other indication of any other living soul within the building, Algor took it as Adrienne getting mad over some home project or another.   This was unusual, since Adrienne rarely partook in personal home projects alone, let alone by herself.  They were just not something she was good at, yet, Algor had come to realise the woman only reacted in such a way when she was piss mad at something, or distracted, or had a mind that felt like it was going to explode.  Whichever of those reasons were currently preoccupying her mind, Algor hoped that it wasn’t all three.

He was wrong.

And when he walked upstairs and into her room, invading Adrienne’s personal space, all he could say was, “whoa…”

Continue reading