Helena Stone's Blog, page 11

Monday Flash Fics: Auction

Auction
Jasper kept his head bowed and his eyes firmly fixed on the floor in front of him. Even if it hadn’t been the expected position, even if the coils circling his head weren’t forcing him to be passive and compliant, he wouldn’t have moved or looked around. How the fuck did I end up here?
“Gentlemen, feast your eyes on our next item.”
Item. Anger surged through Jasper. He was no fucking item. He was a man, exactly the same as any other man here. Except that he was naked, on stage and for sale, while the others were buyers. This was wrong. It should never have happened this way. He hadn’t signed up for any of this.
“This is your lucky night, valued customers. This specimen is a novice to our stage and trade. However, as the blue colour indicates, our object does have years of experience serving a Master.”The audience didn’t hear the words the voice mumbled—“even if he is an insufferable brat”, before the sales pitch continued at the normal volume. “This is a fantastic opportunity if you’re in need of a subject ready to supply you with all you desire from the start.”
Jasper listened to the words, spoken by a voice he used to love. Until a few days ago he’d spent his days and nights with the man detailing his ‘virtues’ now. He’d trusted the words that used to come out of that mouth. Now he knew better, but now it was too late.
Suddenly being a passive victim wasn’t good enough anymore. Jasper tried to lift his head so he could glare at the audience about to bid on him. As soon as he raised his chin an inch, a searing pain shot through his head and down his spine. To Jasper’s shock it resulted in his cock filling with blood. There was nothing he could do except stare in horror at his dick, proudly pointing at the watching men who broke into applause and laughed out loud.
“That’s it gentlemen,” the torturous voice continued, place your bids now.”
Jasper didn’t need to be able to see the audience, to imagine anybody with an interest in buying him entering an amount on the little pad they’d been given. Not too long ago it had been his job to escort other young men onto the stage and, after the bidding was over, to the little cell where they’d wait for their new owner.
“Thank you, gentlemen. The bidding has now closed.” The voice paused before addressing someone to the side in a much softer tone. “Take him away and bring the next one.”
Once he’d been brought to one of the little waiting cells, the coils were removed and replaced with a blindfold while Jasper’s hands were cuffed behind his back.
Fear knotted his stomach while he waited. He knew how it worked. He’d lost whatever rights he used to have. His buyer’s will would be law. They’d replace the coils if he disobeyed. Time passed, although Jasper had no idea how much of it. The silence surrounding him was complete, like a wall closing in on him.
The sound of a door opening almost shocked him into raising his head but he resisted the urge, too afraid of having the coils reapplied. Footsteps came closer and Jasper had to concentrate on keeping his breathing under control.
Hands stroked his body and pinched his nipples. Lust mingled with fear and Jasper’s cock, which had shrunk only minutes ago, reasserted itself. A few firm strokes later, Jasper found himself gasping and torn between shame and need.
“Let that be a warning.”
The all too familiar voice shocked Jasper to the core.
“I’m not giving up on you yet. But the next time you break my rules….”
The voice left the sentence unfinished but Jasper had heard enough and sighed with relief before answering.
“Yes, Master.”
****

652 words
Please visit the Monday Flash Fics Group on Facebook to find out how this picture inspired others. That is also the place to find past flashes and to discover what image we’ll be using next week.

Monday Flash Fics: Journey's End

Journey’s End
They’d been going for over an hour and still Cory had no idea where they were headed. He knew why of course, but that didn’t help at all. Had James taken him to bring him to safety, or had he arrived at the end? Not knowing was killing him. He’d read somewhere that in the past they used to have these things called court cases in which people who had been accused of a crime were given the opportunity to defend themselves, prove their innocence, but he wasn’t sure whether or not he believed that. The concept was fantastic, of course, but no matter how hard he tried, Cory couldn’t imagine a world in which those decisions weren’t taken by the Ubers, and obeyed by the rest.
The Ubers had decided Cory needed to be discarded. They hadn’t divulged the manner in which his demise was supposed to be achieved and thus he’d no idea whether or not this trip was taking him to wherever he was going to be executed or something else. James hadn’t said a word since he’d pick Cory up from the cellar in which they’d kept him prisoner. He’d pointed with his hands to indicate directions but hadn’t spoken. Cory had known better than to speak without permission and thus he found himself guessing.
He still didn’t know how they’d discovered his secret. He’d played by the rules, obeyed all the orders and behaved like everybody else. He’d only felt the emotions, he’d never acted on them and had been so very careful to keep them secret. So how had they known?
Cory sighed as he stared at James’s back. His shoulders moved back and forwards as he moved the alternate sides of the pedal through the water, pushing the canoe forwards over the smooth, mirror-like, lake at a steady pace.
It had had to be James too. But then again, if they had indeed known, they had probably decided it made the punishment even harsher, fit the crime better. In a society where you were only allowed to love the person who fitted you according to a computer algorithm, Cory had had the misfortune of falling for a man who hadn’t been his designated fit. And it wasn’t as if there’d been anything wrong with Alan. Alan had been tall, blond, handsome and very kind. He’d also completely failed to make Cory’s heart stutter the way just the thought of James did.
Another hour passed before Cory saw land in the distance. Another sixty minutes of icy silence from James and growing fear for Cory. It wasn’t even that he was afraid of dying. He’d resigned himself to his fate. Truth be told, he didn’t want to live a life in which he’d be forced to deny and hide his feelings. Not knowing how he was going to meet his end was a different story. Imagining all the possible ways had his stomach tied into knots.
“We’re almost there”
After almost three hours of silence, James’ voice came as a shock.
“Almost where?” Cory whispered his question but the quiet lake carried his voice to the front of the canoe.
“The end of the journey.”
The journey, notyour journey. Cory registered the difference and tried very hard not to give it a meaning.
“What happens next?”
“I’ve no idea,” James said without turning to look at Cory.
Cory watched as James landed the boot. After they both got out, the canoe drifted away.
“You too?” Cory asked.
“Yes.”
****
585 words
If you want to read more, please visit the Monday Flash Fics Facebook group where more stories based on this image will be posted and you can also have a look at older pictures and stories if you haven’t done so in the past.

Thank you, Brigham Vaughn, for doing your usual good work as my proof reader. You’ve saved me from many an embarrassing mistake.

Scenes From the UK Meet

Taken from the UK Meet FB page
Anybody who follows me on Facebook will know that to say I was nervous about going to the UK Meet in Bristol would be a gross understatement. Social gatherings are not my strong suit and voluntarily putting myself in a situation where I’d have to interact with up to 150 people I didn’t know, without the assistance of my socially far better equipped husband, was rather terrifying. I had visions of me hiding in a dark corner while observing others from a safe, be it rather lonely, distance. I couldn't have been more wrong!
The UK meet in Bristol was a pure delight from start to finish, not in a small part thanks to my two travel companions, Skip and Pip. While I may have been an unknown to most participants before the event started, everybody knows Catherine Dair's Pride Bunnies and they were greeted with enthusiasm by anyone who spotted them as they made their rounds with me.
I arrived rather early on Friday morning but didn't have a lot of time to catch my breath after my flight at stupid o'clock since a small group of delegates decided to take a walking tour of Bristol and I was delighted to join them, of course taking my two cuddly friends with me. Bristol turned out to be a lovely town, be it very hilly. Since I'd neglected to bring proper walking shoes, those hills almost got the better of me.
Later that afternoon I was scheduled for registration desk duty and of course Skip and Pip joined me there too, much to the delight of those who signed up during my appointed half our. And that's when I decided I wouldn't allow my two furry friends to leave my side for the duration of the weekend. They were far better at breaking the ice than I could ever hope to be.
Friday evening quite a few of the delegates walked the short distance to the Queenshilling, a nightclub and gay bar where we were welcomed with bubbly and a wonderful buffet. Not much later, Skip and Pip encountered someone they hadn't expected to run into but they didn't appear to be phased by their encounter with royalty and the queen was only too delighted to pose with them.
We had a wonderful time in the club and we met quite a few more people we'd so far only known as names on Facebook but after our early start that morning Skip, Pip and I were only too happy to retreat to our room in the Marriott hotel and lose ourselves in the lap of luxury.

Saturday morning heralded the start of the Meet proper and after a glance at the schedule I had to concede that it would be impossible to enjoy every single item on offer. Choosing was difficult and at times heartbreaking but I didn't regret going to any of the programme items I attended and know from what others have said that those I had to miss were at least as entertaining. For the sake of brevity (feel free to snort here) I'll limit myself to describing the panels and events where I took pictures. I'm sure other pictures and possibly posts will become available from others. Another thing I'd like to add here is that we were constantly provided with tea, coffee, smoothies and an almost endless stream of delicious and very tempting food. To be honest, I'm not sure how I failed to take a picture of those treats.

After lunch on Saturday the bunnies and I attended the BDSM panel hosted by Daniel Kane and T.J. Masters. We were asked not to take pictures during that session and not to talk about it afterwards, so all I can say here is that I was thoroughly fascinated, learned a lot and was inspired to ask T.J. to use his bondage skills on Skip and Pip. If the two Pride Bunnies were popular before that session, they were an outright hit afterwards. 


That evening most of us sat down to a Gala Dinner, which was scrumptious as well as very entertaining. The evening's entertainment was opened by Sing Out Bristol, a choir that had us all mesmerized with their choice of songs and the
Photo courtesy of Charlie Cochraine

wonderful,mostly acapella, rendition of them. I still regret I didn't record their session but I did manage to find an earlier performance, in Dublin as coincidence would have it, on YouTube. The quality isn't great but the video still gives a pretty good idea of their talent.

Next in line was Cherry Poppin, a fabulous drag queen who entertained us with songs and comedy and had brought along a wonderful dancer.



Photo courtesy of T.J. MastersAnd finally came the semi-clad butlers. To say they were received with enthusiasm would be the understatement of the event. I'm not sure the lads knew what to make of Skip and Pip when they were asked to pose with them. In fact, I'm fairly sure Cherry Poppin and her dancer were rather bemused by the bunnies as well, but all of them were good sports about it and held them while pictures were being snapped left, right and centre. For the curious there are a host of butler pictures to be found on Facebook. I've decided to show a picture of two of the butlers, the bunnies, and the man responsible for them being tied up.


For me the evening ended in the lounge where I had a fascinating conversation with Elizabeth North about the value of book promotions and the best ways to approach it. Earlier on Saturday she had made a fantastic key note speech during which she made me and many others cry happy tears...at least twice. She had also confiscated Skip and Pip because TJ retying them had been, in her words, too distracting. The picture on the left makes it clear that no hard feelings resulted from that action on either side.

Sunday started with a wonderful breakfast after which I introduced myself to Rebecca Scott and Sarah Smeaton from Pride Publishing who were utterly charming and most helpful when I asked a few questions regarding future projects.
Later that morning I went to a panel about 'unlocking your dark side'. I'm not sure how  much I learned about writing darker fiction but I have to admit I laughed my way through the whole session. Aleksandr Voinov and Lori Gallagher Witt should come with a health warning when they are together. I admire Hans Hirschi and Sarah Smeaton for keeping up with that double act.

After an hilarious as well as informative keynote speech by K.J. Charles and a planning session for next year's Meet the official part of the weekend's programme came to an end which meant it was time to start saying goodbye to those who were leaving on Sunday. One of my personal highlights during the weekend had been the opportunity to meet Kate Aaron and A.J. Rose. While I was sad to say goodbye to them after two, all too short days, it was hard not to be happy for them as they went on their way to their joined future.

While most people left on Sunday, quite a few of us stayed until Monday (or later). Having to say goodbye to Bristol and all the people I'd met was bitter sweet. I'd had a wonderful weekend which exceeded my expectations far beyond what I'd dared hope for. I had also made up my mind that come what may I would be attending the 2016 event. It wasn't easy saying goodbye though.

And with that I've almost reached the end of this very long post. All that remains is for me to say a few huge thank you's. The first of those is for Hanne Lie who offered to share her room in the Marriott hotel with me and helped me navigate the new to me Meet-waters.

I can't begin to explain how helpful Skip and Pip were and I can't thank Catherine Dair enough for not only creating them but also sending them all the way to me in Ireland. 

Finally and most importantly I want to say a huge and heartfelt thank you to Charlie Cochraine, Clare London, Elin Gregory, J.L Merrow and Liam Livings for having created a most wonderful event. While I have no doubt endless amounts of very hard work went into getting the Meet off the ground and running smoothly I have to say it all looked effortless to the casual observer. 

Photo courtesy of Temple Dragon 
****
Note: All pictures used above are mine, unless the caption states otherwise. I'm fairly certain I did not include anybody who did not want to be photographed but if you see yourself above and would prefer not to feature here, please let me know and I'll remove and/or replace the image. 

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Monday Flash Fics: Alive

Alive
I’ve been observing the phenomena from the start. I like to think I’d caught on to the fact things were changing on a fundamental level, long before most others did. It still took me a while to figure out what it all meant, but I’m convinced it gave me an edge. I saw it before anybody else, and because I did I may be able to survive.
It started small, with toys in our houses and shops. Think of a version of Toy Story in which the toys don’t feel the need to hide the fact they’re alive. To me it was obvious. I am careful about where I put my stuff; everything in its place and a place for everything. So when I woke up one morning to discover my collection of ceramic pigs had not only rearranged itself but also moved from the windowsill to the fireplace surround, I knew something was wrong. I would have accused Pete, my partner, of moving them, but he’d been away for the weekend. I put them back where they belonged - using a ruler to make sure they were once again separated equidistance from each other - and installed a camera.
The next morning I woke up to find them sitting on the coffee table. I checked the recorded images and thought I’d lost my mind when I saw them move of their own volition. I sat on the couch, facing the small table, with my laptop on my knees, watching the video over and over again when, out of the corner of my eye, I spied movement. Right in front of me two pigs changed position.  I’m not ashamed to say I freaked out and hid in our bedroom for the next twenty-four hours until Pete returned.
He found me there and laughed out loud when I told him what had happened. He changed his tune when I asked him to check where the pigs were now and discovered not only had they taken over the living room floor, they’d also been joined by his collection of cats. When I showed him the video images he agreed with me we were facing a situation although, unlike me, he didn’t freak out.
I researched what I’d seen and what I found shocked me to the core. The bible, Nostradamus and all others who made predictions about the end of the world had gotten it wrong according to this text. It clearly stated the end of the world would start with inanimate objects taking over from the living and breathing creatures.
There are no more live frogs or cats in our town and I suspect I won’t be able to find a breathing horse now that these horses have escaped from the carousel. Others are still unwilling to believe this is really happening. They’re convinced it’s a colossal joke being played on mankind. They don’t know that the text states that only those with eyes to see will survive.

It is only a matter of time. Sooner or later the mannequins in shops will grab their freedom. God help those who refuse to believe.

Monday Flash Fics: Against the Wall

Against the Wall
“We’re nearly there.” Nervous excitement was clear in Jeff's voice.
“Almost where? What are we doing here? Where are you taking me?” Harold knew his impatience was obvious. He didn’t want to be here. He’d avoided this part of town ever since that dreadful day. He’d always assumed it was the same for Jeff, but clearly he’d been wrong.
“I know what you’re thinking, you know,” Jeff said.
Harold was frustrated. Not being able to see Jeff's face as he spoke because he was pushing Harold’s chair only added to the feeling of powerlessness.
“But it’s time.” Jeff’s voice was soft yet insistent. “You ... we can’t go on like this. It’s been two years and I’ll be damned if I allow you to wallow in your guilt any longer.”
Anger coursed through Harold’s veins. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who drove that night. You weren’t even there. It wasn’t you who killed her.”
“I know.” Jeff stopped walking. “Neither did you.”
Harold didn’t want to go any further. As soon as Jeff started pushing again and rounded the corner where he’d stopped, Harold would be face to face with the wall he still saw in his nightmares most nights.
Jeff squeezed Harold’s shoulders and must have bent forward because Harold could feel his breath against his ear as he continued talking.
“It’s time to forgive yourself. It was never your fault. There was no way you could have avoided that drunk idiot who drove you off the road and crashed you into the wall.”
“You don’t know that.” Harold growled the words. “Hell, even I don’t know that for sure because I can’t remember any details of that night.” Except for Ciara’s screams just before they collided with the wall; that was one memory he’d never lose.
That night Harold had lost everything. Their relationship had been unconventional but Jeff, Ciara and Harold had made it work. More than that, the three of them had been perfect together. With Ciara gone, Jeff and Harold had lost their way. They still lived together, they even still loved each other but their relationship had lost every trace of passion without their third.
“I know enough.” Jeff’s voice was still soft and gentle but Harold knew him well enough to realize he was close to losing his patience.Harold’s shoulders felt cold and empty without Jeff’s hands resting on them. When they rounded the corner Harold stopped breathing. The image was huge and vibrant, much larger than life, just as Ciara had been. He remembered the photo and the moment Jeff had taken it. Harold stared at the reproduction of Ciara and a much younger and still mobile version of himself, instantly recognising Jeff’s hand in the artwork. Only when the picture blurred in front of his eyes did he realize he was crying. Harold only slowly became aware of Jeff’s voice filtering through the riot of thoughts and feelings in his head.
“You know she’d kick our arses for giving up on life and each other the way we have. She’s been gone for two years. We’ve been existing rather than living for all that time. I need you back. I can’t go on like this.”
Harold didn’t resist when Jeff lifted him from his wheelchair and pushed him up against the wall.
“Here’s where we start living again. We’ll honour her memory by loving each other.”
When Jeff’s lips connected with Harold’s he surrendered. Jeff was right and for the first time since the accident Harold’s heart and body reacted as he dared to believe the rest of his life might hold more than just pain and regret.
 ****
672 words
I’m delighted I managed to get a story out this week since I didn’t have anything last week and chances are I won’t have a flash next week either. I’ll be spending a long weekend in Bristol for the UK LGBT Fiction Meet and probably won’t have time to think about a story, never mind write one.

If you go to the Monday Flash Fics Facebook page you’ll find other stories based on this same picture.

Monday Flash Fics: Bed Partners

Bed Partners
It has been a while. In fact, it has been so long I didn’t think we’d ever end up like this again. When was the last time we shared a bed? I’m not sure I could name the date or count the years.
I’ve missed it. I should probably be ashamed to admit it, but who cares? It is not as if anybody can hear me or read my mind. Nobody knows that I’ve spend quite a few nights yearning for his solid presence next to me. Yes, I can hear the sniggers; I know many would laugh out loud if they knew we still share a bed on occasion, twenty-five years after we were first put in a cot together.
It’s funny, but the memories of that first night are still as clear as crystal. We fitted together perfectly back then. There was no space for fear in my heart or monsters in the room when we were together. And that’s the way it stayed for years, until it stopped. With great reluctance we parted. I’d known the moment would come for a long time. Relationships like ours don’t last. We outgrow them; need to move on to other bed partners. But knowing something is going to happen doesn’t make it easier to deal with when it does. And you do get very attached to someone you share a bed with, night after night, for years.
Right now I’d like to think this is how we’ll stay forever. Together, giving and receiving comfort, alleviating the loneliness, but I know that’s not how our lives are meant to play out. After twenty-five years both of us are too old for this. My cuddle partner and I should both be moving on to new bodies to derive comfort from and give pleasure to. But he still makes me feel safe and loved. I never feel alone when we’re sharing a bed. I’ll enjoy it while I can and try not to think about the future, because who knows when that future and the changes it will bring might arrive.
For most of the night we were snuggled up close together, sharing comfort; soft skin against even softer fur. I don’t mind the distance between us now.
I’m just glad to have my human back where he belongs.
****
386 words.
Don’t forget to check out the Monday Flash Fics Group on Facebook for other stories inspired by the same picture.

Monday Flash Fics: The Chosen One

The Chosen One
“Are you ready?”
Kell took a deep breath and swallowed before opening his mouth to respond. Forty-eight hours of not talking to anyone had left his mouth dry and him tongue tied. “Yeah, as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
“I don’t know what you’re so worried about. It’s a simple test. All firstborns in our line have to face it. You know this.” His mother sounded exasperated.
He forced a smile on his face and got up from the floor where he’d been sitting. Stretching his limps to get the kinks out he bought himself a few more precious seconds. What if it happened? What if it didn’t?
His mother handed Kell the hooded cloak and he put it on over his naked body. He should have spent the past two days meditating, preparing his mind, body and soul for the revelations he might be facing. Instead he’d worried about the future and dreamed about Mascha.
Mascha. He only just repressed the sigh wanting to escape him. They’d known better. Both he and Mascha had known what lay ahead and that they might not have a future together. They’d tried to fight the feelings but the connection between them had been too strong. They’d talked about it and had come up with all sorts of justifications for their continued intimacy.
“Surely we wouldn’t feel drawn to each other as strongly as we do if it wasn’t meant to be,” Mascha had argued. And in the heated moment Kell hadn’t been able or willing to come up with a counter argument. But now their time was up. Not they but the Universe determined who Kell would spend his life with. As the future leader of his people he had to submit to the vagaries of faith and accept whoever his chosen partner might be.
The silence felt oppressive when Kell followed his mother to the rock throne in the centre of the village green. The hood pulled over his head prevented Kell from seeing anything unless it was straight ahead of him. He knew Mascha was somewhere in the crowd, he could feel his lover’s presence but he knew better than to look. If Mascha wasn’t his chosen one, their past relationship, if revealed, would mean death to the man Kell loved.
Kell sat down on the hard surface of the throne and send a silent plea up to the stars. One by one every villager between the age of seventeen and twenty-five walked to the throne, stopped, waited and moved on again. Forty-five years had passed since the last time this ceremony took place and Kell’s mothers had found each other and few remembered what the moment of revelation looked like.
They were nearing the end of the line and Kell wondered what would happen if nobody was chosen. Would he then be allowed to pick for himself? Kell lowered his gaze as hope blossomed in his chest and grew and grew, until it didn’t feel like hope anymore but something he’d never felt before. He’d never known you could feel life rushing through your veins but he did. A throbbing he’d only ever felt in his balls just before ejaculating buzzed through his whole body. 
Kell was vaguely aware of the exited gasps around him before he looked up and saw himself reflected in the deep green and very familiar eyes staring at him. He saw the reflection of the sparkling stars surrounding his face and could have wept. The choice had been made, Kell’s position in the Universe confirmed and he’d embrace his future with open arms...as soon as he’d finished embracing his chosen mate, Mascha.
****
610 words

As always more pictures inspired by the same image can be found in the Monday Flash Fics group on Facebook. And talking about the group, why don’t you join us? Either to suggest images or to write a flash of your own when a picture inspires you. We’re an easy going bunch, not too strict when it comes to word counts (after all, this flash of mine was over by 110 words J) and we don’t expect anybody to join in every week.

Monday Flash Fics: Oops

Oops
I’m not quite sure how it came to this. I mean, it’s not as if I’m in the habit of tying people up, putting them in the boot of my car and driving them to an isolated location. It’s not something I’ve ever done before, and I sincerely hope I’ll never have to do it again. But, things being what they are, it is the precise situation I find myself in. Driving through town, I make very sure not to exceed the speed limit because the last thing I need right now is for the police to pull me over. I mean, how do you explain a tied up man in the part of your car usually reserved for the spare tyre and luggage?
Oops.I probably should have slowed down a bit before taking that speed bump.The sounds coming from the boot make me flinch before I remember this is how it’s meant to be. After all, he asked for it, didn’t he?
I don’t slow down for the second bump in the road either as I think back to the sequence of events that put me in this position. Everything would have been fine if he could just have let it rest, but he had to keep on and on and on; pestering me without respite. I tried being reasonable and held on to my patience for as long as I could. And then, because I’m no saint,he pushed me too far.
I waited for him in a corner of the garage, invisible to him when he walked in, while I could see him clearly in the light flowing in through the open door behind him. By the time he realized what was happening, I had the rope around him, his arms tightly secured against his torso, before taking care of his legs. He was heavier than I expected him to be and it occurred to me that I should have allowed him to get closer to the car before tying him up, but by then it was too late. I could hardly untie him and ask him to walk to the car for me, now could I?
I breathe a sigh of relief when I see the dirt track off to the right. The potholes littering the road make me bounce up and down in my seat and I try to imagine what it must be like for him. For a moment remorse assails me before I let it go again. This is nobody’s fault but his. I have nothing to feel guilty about; nothing at all.
I pull over and stare through the windscreen for a few moments. This is the moment of truth and I’m suddenly afraid of what I might find when I step out of the car.
I open the boot and stare down at the man blinking up at me. Blindfolding him had been considered but rejected. Just as I hadn’t bothered to gag him.
“Does that answer your question?”
His smile touches something deep inside of me, as it always does.
“Yes. Thank you. Now I know exactly how to write that scene.”
****

This story was inspired by a picture as shared in the Monday Flash Fics Group on Facebook. On the page you'll find more shorts based on the same photo and you could always join us and maybe write a story of your own next week. It really is a case of the more the merrier and everybody is welcome.

The Frustrating Distance Between Us

I’m a big fan of the internet and will forever be grateful for the people I’ve met and continue to meet and the friendships I’ve formed and continue to form. Through Twitter and Facebook I’ve met the most amazing people, expanded my horizons, and found support beyond anything I could have hoped for. But – you knew this was coming, didn’t you – there are days when a friendship ‘only’ being virtual gets extremely frustrating.
Without naming issues or identifying those dealing with them – because my friends know who they are and theirs are not my stories to share – I have to say that it breaks my heart that I can’t physically be in their presence. While I’m not much of a hugger at the best of times, all my instincts scream at me to wrap them in my arms and hold them close. Having thousands of miles between me and those I want to comfort leaves me feeling helpless and frustrated.
What I can do to show my love and support all too often feels like not enough, a sad and insufficient substitute for what I want to be able to give. Sometimes words are not enough, inadequate, or too much. Some situations require more than clichés and empty, be it heartfelt, words.  All I want is to be present, hold my friends’ hands and pass the tissues when required. A direct message on Facebook, while better than nothing, does not allow me to give the level of comfort I want to provide.

I realize this post is rather self-indulgent. While it is very frustrating that I can’t physically stand by my friends while they go through very though times, my issue is trivial compared what they are actually facing. I wanted to say it anyway because it has been hitting me very hard over the past few weeks, and because I want those friends to know that while I may not always have the right words at the right moment, they’re forever in my heart and on my mind.

Monday Flash Fics: Sixty-six Years

This story is the sequel to the flash I posted two weeks ago, titled Thirty Weeks. I’ll hope you’ll enjoy your second encounter with Victor, Fabian and the sea.


Sixty-six Years
Exactly sixty-six years had passed, give or take a few hours. The sun was merely a reminder on the horizon rather than setting and the pathway into the sea was gone of course. Victor thought back to the moment the sea claimed it, as if the salty water needed something in return for giving up Fabian to the man who loved him enough to build it.
Fabian had explained it all after their passionate and heated reunion. “That’s where I’m from, Victor, my people live in the sea. When we’re twenty-five we’re given a year to experience life on land. If we’re lucky enough to find someone who truly loves us we may re-join them. But only after they prove their love is strong and only for as long as that love lasts.”
It had taken Victor some time to get his head around it all. Fabian’s departure had nearly torn him apart and the return of the man he loved seemed too good to be true, and yet, here he was, next to Victor on the beach, as satisfied as Victor was.
“What happens if the love doesn’t last?” Victor had been afraid to ask the question but the need to know had been stronger.
“Why, do you doubt your feelings for me?” Fabian had sounded both amused and worried.
“No, but the rest of my life is a long time.” If Victor knew one thing about love it was that it required honesty.
“If you ever stop loving me I will have one hour to make it back to the sea before my lungs will stop working and I’ll die the same way a fish does when it’s left on land.”
Fabian had been very matter of fact about his possible fate. Victor on the other hand had been scared out of his wits, the responsibility felt too large and yet he couldn’t imagine going back to living without Fabian.
For three years Victor had refused to leave the coast. He needed to be sure that Fabian would be safe if Victor’s heart would ever betray them. They’d travelled after that, secure in the knowledge that their love grew stronger rather than diminished with time.
Now they were back. Victor knew his days, no scratch that, his hours were numbered. The last few days had been a struggle, and Victor had been afraid he wouldn’t live long enough to get Fabian to within one hour from the sea, but he had. Victor lay on the beach in Fabian’s arms. Breathing was difficult and his eyes were heavy when suddenly the sea lit up, reflecting the night sky on the water.
“See that my love that’s my world, welcoming us back.”
Victor smiled. “You, they’re welcoming you back. I’ve reached the end of the road. Just....”
“Just what? Anything for you my love.”
“Take me with you when you return. Bury me where you will be.” Victor closed his eyes and surrendered. His life had been long and filled with love. He hated leaving Fabian, but if it had to happen, this was how it should be.
Victor was barely conscious when Fabian lifted him up and walked into the sea. He felt the warm embrace of the water and briefly wondered whether dying underwater would be easier than dying on land. Then the water covered his head and he stopped thinking.
“Open your eyes my love.”
Victor blinked and looked up at what looked like the night sky except that it moved.
“I’ve shared your life for sixty-six years. Now you get to share mine until the end of time.”
****
633 words.

More stories inspired by the same picture can be found in the Monday Flash FicsGroup on Facebook. That’s also where we’ll announce the image for next week’s flashes.