Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Silver Flash!: "Coffee and Monsters"

Happy (early) Halloween, everyone! This week's flash is a paranormal piece, using one of my prompts for the week: "That boy is a monster." If you're thinking Lady GaGa is the inspiration're right. :) Enjoy!

Coffee and Monsters

"That boy is a monster. He's no good for you."

Tabatha's mother had her hands on her hips in the doorway of the kitchen. Her lips were pursed. The gray-haired lady was determined.

"You don't know him." Tabatha rolled her eyes, feeling very much like a teenager despite her twenty-five years. Her mother had that effect on her.

"I know what he did. And if God judges a man on his actions, I sure don't see a problem with doing the same."

"He was seventeen." Tabatha reached a hand into the cookie jar on the counter and began munching, fully intending to ignore every word her mother said. "It was graffiti--not murder."

"Who's to say it wasn't? You know who uses graffiti? Gangs. Gangs use graffiti. And gangs do all sorts of horrible things."

"He's not in a gang, Mom. He's an accountant."

"Well, just don't say I didn't warn you. I got involved with a boy like that, you know. When I was sixteen. I'd never had liquor before in my life. You'll be painting the town hall or defiling the school walls in no time."

"If I were sixteen, I probably would. But I'm twenty-five."

"People like that never change."

"Bye, Mom." Tabatha gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek and stuffed another cookie into her mouth.

The visit was over. It had been a lovely 15 minutes that Tabatha had no desire to repeat more than once a week.

But for once, the blond's overprotective mother had hit the nail on the head. Jermaine was a monster. The best kind. The kind that was eternally beautiful and never died.

Tabatha drove to a coffee shop twenty minutes away. She was meeting Jermaine at 6:00pm. It was their third date. As long as he wore sunglasses, the sunlight didn't affect him. He said he thought it was probably because he was supposed to be underground and his eyes knew it; they could never adjust.

The tall, dark-skinned man sat down beside her in the booth and slipped off his shades. The lighting was dim. He kissed her deeply on the lips and smiled at her with perfect white teeth.

"What are you having?" he asked.

"A peppermint mocha."

"Good choice."

A waitress approached, and Jermaine ordered for both of them. He took charge. He was beautiful. Tabatha adored him. She wasn't sure how long the feeling would last, if the flame would burn out quickly, but she was enjoying it while she could.

"A peppermint mocha and a black coffee," his deep voice rumbled.

"Coming right up." The waitress smiled and walked away.

"Come here for a minute," Jermaine whispered to Tabatha. "I want to tell you something."

She slid closer. He rested his hand on her thigh. Her body repsonded immediately. Her blood heated in her veins, her skin tingled. Jermaine let out a low growl. She knew he could sense her rise in temperature; he was always aware of her blood. His fingers slipped under her short skirt, resting on her clit through her silk panties.

"Do you think you can come before the waitress gets back?"

"I'm willing to try," she murmured.

His fingers began moving in slow circles, warming her up, making her wet until all she could feel was pleasure and anticipation.

"You're so good to me, but you never let me touch you," she moaned softly, careful not to draw attention to herself.

"Feeling the blood beneath your skin is all the pleasure I need. My blood's stopped. I couldn't do anything if I tried."

"Good point." Tabatha bucked against his hand as he pressed down harder, began to move faster.

She was getting close already. His fingers were like magic. She could barely stand it.

"I can see her. She's almost done pouring my coffee."

Tabatha bit her lip. It felt so good, she was so close. He pinched her clit quickly between his fingers and rubbed her again. That was all it took. Tabatha gripped the edge of table and shook as she came. But she stayed quiet, and the waitress gave them their drinks with that same smile, oblivious to what had happened under her table.

They each took a slow sip of smooth caffeine as Tabatha basked in her afterglow. Then Jermaine put his mug down and turned to her.

"There is one thing you can do for me," he told her in a low voice.

"What's that?"

"Let me kiss your neck." Tabatha withdrew slightly. She'd never let him near her neck. He always said it was too much temptation. "Don't worry. I can control myself."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Feeling how alive you are is the only pleasure I can have."

Tabatha's gaze softened, and she pulled her hair back, giving him access to the pulse point beneath her ear. She trusted him. He kissed her neck tenderly. Tabatha closed her eyes, enjoying the new sensation. His lips were soft against her skin. He smelled amazing.

Then she felt it--the sudden flash of pain, then warmth.

Huh. He'd bitten her. He was draining her. And she could tell he had no intention of stopping any time soon.

She couldn't fight him. She felt paralyzed. All she could do was think, and that was getting harder with each passing moment.

Damn her mother. She'd been right about him after all.

As always, be sure to see what treats (or tricks) the other flashers have in store!

Sui Lynn (m/m)

Lily Sawyer (m/m)

West Thornhill (m/m)

LM Brown (m/m)

Freddy MacKay (m/m)

Julie Hayes (m/m)

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Happy Spirit Day!

In honor of Spirit Day tomorrow, wear some purple and watch some RENT! :)

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Silver Flash!: "Like Poison: Pt. 1?"

Hey, all! It's been a while. Blame the writer's block. Which I, personally, blame on the stress of trying to buy a house/planning a wedding. If only it were as easy as it seems in the novels... ;) Well, I took this week's prompt (" a problem with personal space...") as an opportunity to do a bit of free writing, so I honestly don't know if this is going anywhere, but I hope you enjoy it!

Eugenia lay on her mother's grave, wearing a white dress, her red hair pooled around her fair face. Her feet were bare. But the image wasn't as romantic as she'd thought it might be from watching sad movies and reading Edgar Allan Poe. The dirt was fresh and the damp grains clung to her skin and dress. It was a morbid picture for a morbid time.

The Rapture had come and gone a week ago, in the middle of the night. At least it had been the middle of the night in America; in China babies' souls had been snatched away in broad daylight. But there were no empty shoes, no free-flying people. There were only bodies. Millions. Empty.

Eugenia's mother had finally been buried last night. Morning was beginning to peek over the treetops around the graveyard. She was alone. But she figured it probably wouldn't be for long.

The supernaturals had seen this as their time to shine, and vamps and weres roamed the streets unabashedly. They'd already taken most of those who weren't claimed by God. Vampires had some locked away for farming, worried about "natural resources." The werewolves couldn't contain themselves in order to conserve anything. But they were only monsters once a month. The vamps came out every night. Every afternoon. Every morning.

Why Eugenia hadn't been snatched up, she didn't know.

But they always came around at dawn. To watch her. She suspected they had since she was young. But they never bit. They never tried. Eugenia lifted her head and gazed at the tree line. She could see them. Did they think she was stupid? She sat up and stared back at them. Why didn't they just take her? Why didn't one of them just come and put her out of her misery?

She was alone. Utterly alone. With just those eyes staring at her. Then one finally did approach. He was a tall one, impossibly attractive, with dark brown eyes and straight, jet black hair. But they were all impossibly attractive. The better to lure you in with, my dear.

Eugenia didn't move. She hadn't eaten in days. What did she care if she was drained? If they released her soul the way God had refused?

The vamp circled her, studying her. Eugenia's skin prickled. He said nothing. That drove Eugenia even more crazy than the impending death.

"You've got a problem with personal space, haven't you?" she spoke finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

The man grinned. "You're a strange one."

"I'm strange?"

"I've been watching you."

"I know."

"I bit you there. When you were young."

Eugenia hadn't been expecting that. "What?"

The man squatted down, a devilish grin on his lips. He reached out, moved her flaming hair. She let him.

"I bit you. Just there."

His fingertips brushed the twin marks on her neck that her mother had said were from chicken pocks. Eugenia's stomach dropped.

"You didn't drain me."

"I couldn't."

"I don't understand."

"Your blood is like poison."


His mouth curled up further. "It's disgusting."


"There's nothing left of the life you know. Come with me."


"Your mother is dead."

"I'm not."

"Not yet."

Eugenia was tired. She was tired of fighting and tired of this strange, week-old world. So when the man offered her his hand, she accepted. Maybe she would die. Maybe she wouldn't. But her only other option was lying here until she starved to death. She couldn't bring herself to move on her own. The man placed a hand on her waist and guided her away from the unmarked grave.

"I fear a darkness plagues you that is worse than ours."

Eugenia stared back over her shoulder at what she was leaving behind.

"I think the plague has come and gone."

And be sure to check out the other flashers!

Julie Hayes (m/m)

Lindsay Klug (m/f)

West Thornhill (m/m)

L. M. Brown (m/m)

Lily Sawyer (m/m)

Freddy MacKay (m/m)

Pender Mackie (m/m)

Sui Lynn (m/m)

Elyzabeth M. VaLey (m/f)