Eme Strife's Blog, page 3

Excerpt: Uncensored (Chapter One)

                                   
                         CHAPTER ONE

“You’re gonna go blind if you keep reading that, you know,” I hear Kylie say, her tone a mixture of amusement and something else I can’t quite pin-point.
My mouth is suspended over the transparent straw in my glass, my lips slightly parted as they hover absently over my neglected drink.
She keeps talking, and I hear everything she’s saying, but my eyes are glued to the wrinkled letter in my hands, roaming over the typed words again and again; words that have become very, very familiar, so much so that I’ve memorized each and every one.
The words are familiar because I’ve read them before, several times, in fact, and probably way too many according to some people—including my best friend, Kylie.
It’s an acceptance letter for an internship with one of the most prestigious environmental consulting companies in the country, even if the letter doesn’t currently look prestigious itself. In just three short days, it’s gone from its original crisp and immaculate appearance to being worn and wrinkled with a few fingerprint stains and a small tear at the bottom.
Maybe I have read it too many times, but it’s not like I can help myself.
“I still can't believe I got picked,” I murmur, mostly to myself, but I'm pretty sure Kylie can hear me.
My eyes travel upwards for a moment, locking on to the ice floating in my citrus green tea and zoning in on the transparent cubes as they swim adjacent to and on top of each other in the yellow-green liquid.
I poke absently at one of them with the straw, submerging it completely for a few seconds before it finds its way up from under the pressure I'm putting on it. I do the same thing to another ice cube. And then another, until I'm not even sure what exactly I'm doing anymore.
I can't seem to keep still. I have so much nervous energy right now, and I desperately need to expend some of it.
I start swirling the glass, and the light chiming sound of ice against glass fills the air sporadically. At one point, I swirl it a bit too fast, and some of my tea spills over. It almost gets on my phone and the letter, but Kylie saves the day and swipes them both away just in the nick of  time.
I think she saw it coming, but then again, she's always had really good reflexes, and being a former athlete only adds to her agility.
“Shit…thanks,” I say with an apologetic look. She stares at me for a moment, and when she doesn't look away, I can't stop myself from asking, “What?”
Without a word, she motions towards the table with her eyes and looks back at me again. I look down to where she had to find my fingers drumming restlessly against the table, tapping away furiously at the grainy wood with no particular rhythm.
“Wow, you really are nervous about this,” she says, hints of worry creeping into her big, doe-like eyes. She takes a sip of her coffee before she adds, “You've been wanting this forever, Reaux. What are you so worried about?”
I shake my head. “I'm not nervous, I'm just…”
Well, I'm not entirely sure what I am, to be honest. My feelings are definitely mixed and all over the place right now, and my mind is sort of on its own speedometer, going a million miles a second as too many thoughts struggle to go through it at once.
I shrug. “I dunno. I think I'm just still kind of in shock that it's finally happening after all this time, you know?”
Kylie nods solemnly. “Yeah, I know.” She lowers her eyes and taps absently at the handle of her cup, and I can tell she's hesitating, almost as if she's unsure of what to say next. But then she looks up again and grins at me, and pretty soon, her grin is spreading into a full-fledged smile.
Typical Kylie Baxter.
Kyles has one of those smiles that can light up an entire football stadium. Seriously. Plus, she smiles as naturally and effortlessly as she breathes. It's one of the things that makes her so approachable and likeable, and definitely one of the things that make guys fawn over her like kids fawn over candy at Halloween. She never has issues meeting new people and making new friends.
Unfortunately, I can't exactly say the same for myself.
“I’ve said it before but it deserves repeating; I'm really proud of you, Reaux,” she says, with her sweet, heart-warming smile splayed lovingly across her face. “You deserve this more than anyone.”
My throat tightens at hearing the way she commends me, at how she always supports me, and I just want to reach across the table and give her the biggest hug in the world, but a heavy feeling quickly settles in my gut and makes me stay put. “Thanks, Kyles,” I say with a bit of a strain. I manage to give her a small smile back, and all of a sudden, the threat of tears sting me from behind my eyes. Her words touch me deeper than I realize, and I can't help feeling emotional.
Kylie is the only person who really knows me from A to Z. She’s also the only person who knows everything I've been through these last five years in particular, and all the crap I've had to deal with in order to get to this very moment.
I’m just about to begin my last semester of college, and I can’t imagine a better way to end my university career than getting accepted into the internship program at EcoDiverse, which is no small feat, I can assure you.
It's been four long and angst-filled months of constant waiting, doubting, and keeping my fingers crossed for that acceptance letter.
Every single year, there are well over a hundred and fifty seniors who desperately want and fight incredibly hard for the coveted spot at the prestigious environmental consulting firm, and this year has been no different.
So, when I finally received it in the mail three days ago, I had all but jumped out of my skin, and I've been completely restless ever since. I had struggled—with quite a bit of difficulty, I must admit—to contain my excitement as I broke the envelope’s seal, unfolded the letter, and read the ultimate words of acceptance addressed to me on the formal paper, especially since each and every one of my classmates had been hoping it would be their names on the sealed envelope.
I honestly didn't think I'd be this excited if I got it, but I am. I really, really am.
I know some of my classmates will be happy for me, but I also know that quite a few of them are going to feel more than a little salty about the outcome. But I can't say I’d blame them for feeling that way.
After all, it's common knowledge that EcoDive turns lowly interns into people who can pick whichever high paying job they want after graduating. There's even a rumor floating around about the last intern, who apparently was offered a position with, not one, but twelve of the Fortune 500 companies.          So, of course, as soon as I got the good news—and once I was done screaming and jumping up and down in front of my mailbox like a crazy person—I accepted their offer right away. I start tomorrow, and I swear I can’t wait!
But I’m not doing it because I want the money that the experience will eventually earn me, nor the boasting rights that I can now toss in the faces of my family members—who were all very vocal about the fact that switching from pre-med was the biggest mistake of my young life.
No, it's none of those things, really.
As pathetic as it sounds, the main reason why I jumped at the chance to work for EcoDiverse, the "holy grail" of environmental consultant internships, is because I genuinely want to save the world.
Yes, yes, I know that may sound really lame, and yes, I know it definitely sounds cheesy as hell, but it’s the truth.
While most people my age are doing their best to party as much as humanly possible before the real world begins breathing down their necks, sleep with as many people as they can, and come up with new and inventive ways to beat the common hangover, I'm busy trying to figure out ways to stop the premature melting of the polar ice caps, raising awareness about endangered animal species, and organizing rallies against offshore drilling.
As a result, I’m the one in class who always has the opinions, rarely drinks anything stronger than a cup of coffee, and has never had sex.          But before you get all judgmental and draw up the conclusion that I must be some sort of uptight prude, or really, really awkward around guys, let me just say right now, that I'm not. And it's not that I haven't had the opportunity to make love before, either.
In fact, there have been more than a few times throughout my undergraduate career when I probably could have finally lost my virginity to some random guy who I'd met on campus.
The issue is, that's just not who I am.
I’m not the girl who slips into bed with the first boy who comes along. It's not that I’m waiting for marriage, despite the fact that my father—who’s as Catholic as they come—has made it very clear on several occasions that he’ll disown me if I "let myself be compromised" before walking down the aisle at our church.          The simple truth of the matter is that it just hasn’t happened for me.
At least not yet.
There haven't been any lusty encounters in dark movie theaters or gentle hand brushing in the lecture hallway that escalated into full-blown steamy bathroom sex episodes, much like I'd read about in my roommate's stash of erotic romance novels.
As hard as it may be to believe, nothing particularly sensual had ever entered into the equation during all my years in college, even though there were times when I would have loved to have felt the firm grasp of a hand or a warm, velvety tongue on my body.
But whenever these kinds of thoughts linger in my head, the shame of them always send me further into my studies, and as usual, I tuck the deep, mingling desires into the far back of my mind.
A girl who was raised in a strict Catholic home like I was shouldn't be dreaming about thrusting hips or quivering lips.
Well…at least that's what I've always been told.
My eyes go back to the acceptance letter once more.I've read it eighty-three times since I got it, and when I get back to my dorm, I'm probably going to read it again. It may seem obsessive or narcissistic that I keep doing it, and who knows, maybe on some level, it is. But again, I can't help myself.
This acceptance letter means so much more to me than just a chance to gain some experience with a renowned company. It's a sign that, for once, my life is actually going the way I want it to go, that things are turning out just how I want them to.
It symbolizes years of effort and patience and tolerance and denying myself what I really want finally paying off. It symbolizes everything I've been wanting for a very long time now; a physical sign that I'm taking a huge and critical step in the right direction…finally.

Happy 2nd Birthday to (Eme)nded Scribbles!!!

Courtesy of partypro.comHey, guys!

Holy moly, I seriously can't believe it's already been two whole years since I started the blog!!! Crazy, isn't it?

At the risk of sounding really lame, it really does feel like it was just yesterday when the blog was brand spanking new and your girl Eme had no clue what she was doing. Lol.

Two full years later, and I seriously can't tell you guys how happy I am with all its growth and progress.

I just want to take this time to thank all of you who've been such loyal and amazing readers and supporters since its conception.

I didn't want to make this post long, so I'll just end by saying, Happy Second Birthday, (Eme)nded Scribbles!

*Raises virtual champagne flute* Here's to many, many more years of wonderful growth, awesome readers, breathtaking stories, and all the fun and exciting stuff that we've all come to love about the blog :).

Until next time...

Much love,

A New Year's Eve Kiss (Part One)

Courtesy of theaddkid.blogspot.com


I see nothing but lights.
There are vibrant, colorful lights everywhere.
There are lights to my left, lights to my right, lights shining from above me in all forms; from rays and glowsticks to disco ball confettis and sprinkles and splashes, all bombarding my eyes from every angle imaginable.
Another gust of frosty wind blows over, making me shiver like a maniac squirrel on drugs despite all the winter gear I have on.
Someone pushes me from the side for the millionth time, and I don't bother to look at who the culprit is this time. It won't matter, because it's bound to happen again. Matter of fact, I know it's going to happen again.
So I do the only thing I can do under the circumstances; I clutch at my jacket, and brace myself against the cold and against the countless people surrounding me, constantly pushing and shoving into me at every angle and turn.
I let out a tired, frustrated sigh.
This is not at all what I'd anticipated New Year's Eve at Madison Square Garden was going to be like. Not even a little bit like I had imagined.
I figured, at worst, we were just going to be camping out in ridiculously cold weather for a while—even though I clearly underestimated just how cold it was going to be. But this? This right here is nothing but annoying and stressful as hell.
If I knew things were going to turn out this way, I would have saved myself the thousand dollar ticket and a potential case of pneumonia and stayed my ass at home and just watched the countdown on TV like I usually do.
But, nooo. My little brother, Dustin, just had to convince me to come here with him, and now I can't even find him.
I try to make my way through the crowd with unspeakable difficulty. It's hard and awkward to move around and squeeze by people, most of whom are drunk or at least very, very tipsy, and a good number of others who keep trying to get to the front lines so that they have a better shot at being televised or interviewed.
"Dustin!" I call out, but my voice gets drowned out by the rowdy chorus, and I can barely even hear myself over the millions of other voices surrounding me.
God, where the hell did he disappear to? He was just right next to me.
"Dustin! Dustin!" I try again a few more times, but the result is the same. The scene is too chaotic, there are too many people, too many voices fighting to be heard all at the same time.
I whip out my phone and try calling him again, but I can barely hear the female automated voice on the other end telling me once again that his phone is switched off.
Ugh! Why the hell would he switch off his phone on a night like this?
I dial Derek and Mel's phones. Derek's is off as well—no real surprise there, considering he was well beyond tipsy when we left their apartment to come here—but thankfully Mel picks up on the second ring.


To be continued...

Happy New Year!!!

Courtesy of fun2smiles.com
Happy New Year, y'all!!!

Gosh, I'm still in awe that's it's actually 2015 now! As I've said a few times before, I'm really looking forward to what this year has in store, and I'm confident that we're all going to have  a lot of amazing experiences :).

So as we all make resolutions, plans, and promises to and for ourselves and others during this fresh start, I sincerely wish us all more happiness and success in than we can handle this year :).

2015 is gonna be fucking awesome! I just know it.
Until next time...

Much love,

Saying Goodbye to 2014 and Hello to Doctor-Patient Confidentiality, Volume 4!!!

Courtesy of dreamstime.com


Hey, guys!

I hope you all had an awesome and relaxing Hanukkah and Christmas.

So here we finally are, on the very last day of 2014. To be honest, I'm still blown away at how quickly this year has gone by. Cliche as hell, but time really does fly!

I have to say, I've had amazing year with you all. I feel like I accomplished a great deal during this time, from finishing and publishing my first ever full length title ( The Basilisk's Creed Omnibus ), to engaging with both my old and new amazing readers and getting to know so many of you better, and finally, having a whole lot of fun with Matt, Eli, Roni, Dexter, and so many of the characters constantly swimming in my head and enjoying nothing more than sharing them and their experiences and lives with you.

So in a nutshell, 2014 has been a blast, lol, and I'm really looking forward to so much more in the coming year! I'm so excited, I can't wait!

So as we count down to the very last hours of 2014, I figured it would be much more fun to end the year with more of a certain icy blue-eyed doctor ;). So as one last holiday treat before the year is up, I give you Doctor-Patient Confidentiality Volume Four !

It's actually been out for a week (lol), but I wasn't able to send out the email in time. You know how crazy the holidays can get. Still, I hope it's worth the extra week wait. Enjoy, and I'll see you all in 2015!



Until next time...

Much love,

Merry Fucking Christmas!!!

Courtesy of discoverbundoran.com

I hope you all have a Merry Christmas and celebrate this holiday season with copious amounts of booze and banging! Lol.

Much love,

Doctor-Patient Confidentiality, Volume Three is out!!!

​

Hi, guys!
I hope you all had an amazing Thanksgiving (for those who celebrate it)!

We're finally in the last month of the year, and I can barely believe it! I really feels like 2014 just kind of came and went. Lol.

In any case, I wanted to let you guys know that Doctor-Patient Confidentiality, Volume Three is finally out on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Kobo Books.
I anticipate that volume four will be out next week, and volume five the week right after that. Volume five will be the last release for the year, but not to fret, there will be so much more coming in 2015 :).
I'll talk with you all soon!


Until next time...


Much love,

G.A. (Part Three)

Courtesy of Google images



Something tickles.
I feel my mouth lift slightly in a half-smile. I think I'm kind of awake, and kind of still asleep, but I'm pretty sure that I can feel something tickling my arm and shoulder.
I'm slowly drifting into consciousness, becoming more and more aware of my surroundings as I come awake.
I feel feathers insistently brush against my bare shoulder, tickling my skin and making me giggle like an idiot.
It must be Paulie, my cockatoo. He's the sweetest little thing. He sometimes flies into my bed and sleeps on my pillow, right next to my head.
He'll occasionally sleep in my hair if he's feeling particularly anxious that night for whatever reason, or if he feels threatened and needs reassurance of his safety, especially if my hair's being extra big and frizzy.
My vet says my hair calms him down and it was the very thing that bonded us when I first got him a little over five years ago.
I just have to keep him away from our family cat, Mitsy, whenever I visit my parents. No matter how many times I bring Paulie over, Mitsy always gets so hostile toward him, and she even extends that hostility to me more often than not.
She used to love me a lot, but that's clearly changed. Ever since Paulie came into the picture, she's been acting different towards me. Really different.
Like most cats, Mitsy's extremely territorial, and perhaps she felt betrayed that I got another pet or something.
I guess I can cross her name of my loved-ones list, right after that insufferable bastard, Lenny's.
Ugh. I'm thinking about him again. I don't want to think about him. He's the very fucking reason my head feels like there's an automatic drill inside it right now.
I absently move my legs, shifting them haphazardly around my bed until my feet find the floor, and I realize I still have my heels on from last night.
Jesus, just how bad was last night that I passed out with my damn shoes on?
The strappy stilettos are without a doubt one of my most uncomfortable pairs, too, and somehow, I didn't feel their usual blood-constricting effects at all.
Well, at least up until now.
On the bright side—if you can even call it that—at least the numbness in them is finally gone and I can feel my legs now.
My God, I was beyond wasted. Not at all a good look for someone who works at an advertising agency. I really hope none of the company’s clients—past or prospective—was anywhere near that club last night. The very last thing I need in my life right now is to get blacklisted for “unprofessional conduct and display”.
It may not have been during working hours, but as long as I work for Gruman Advertising, I’m still a representation of the firm, and trust me, they do not, under any circumstances, represent super drunk women stumbling around in uncomfortable faux leather heels.
I feel around my bed absently as my eyes remain closed, and my hand comes into contact with more feathers, but something's off about them.
Paulie is a fairly small bird. These feel too large to be his, and they're too many as well.  They can't possibly be his feathers.
I frown as I continue to keep my eyes shut, not wanting to fully subject them to the harsh rays of daylight coming through my window just yet, but my hand continues to feel its way around my bed.
I realize there can only be one explanation for this; my pillows somehow got ripped open and now their feathers are scattered everywhere.
I breathe out a tired sigh. I'm so not looking forward to cleaning up the mess with this stupid hangover I have.
But just then, my hand comes into contact with something else; something far more alarming than feathers—skin.
Human skin.

Free Story: G.A. (Part Three)

Something tickles.
I feel my mouth lift slightly in a half-smile. I think I'm kind of awake, and kind of still asleep, but I'm pretty sure that I can feel something tickling my arm and shoulder.
I'm slowly drifting into consciousness, becoming more and more aware of my surroundings as I come awake.
I feel feathers insistently brush against my bare shoulder, tickling my skin and making me giggle like an idiot.
It must be Paulie, my cockatoo. He's the sweetest little thing. He sometimes flies into my bed and sleeps on my pillow, right next to my head.
He'll occasionally sleep in my hair if he's feeling particularly anxious that night for whatever reason, or if he feels threatened and needs reassurance of his safety, especially if my hair's being extra big and frizzy.
My vet says my hair calms him down and it was the very thing that bonded us when I first got him a little over five years ago.
I just have to keep him away from our family cat, Mitsy, whenever I visit my parents. No matter how many times I bring Paulie over, Mitsy always gets so hostile toward him, and she even extends that hostility to me more often than not.
She used to love me a lot, but that's clearly changed. Ever since Paulie came into the picture, she's been acting different towards me. Really different.
Like most cats, Mitsy's extremely territorial, and perhaps she felt betrayed that I got another pet or something.
I guess I can cross her name of my loved-ones list, right after that insufferable bastard, Lenny's.
Ugh. I'm thinking about him again. I don't want to think about him. He's the very fucking reason my head feels like there's an automatic drill inside it right now.
I absently move my legs, shifting them haphazardly around my bed until my feet find the floor, and I realize I still have my heels on from last night.
Jesus, just how bad was last night that I passed out with my damn shoes on?
The strappy stilettos are without a doubt one of my most uncomfortable pairs, too, and somehow, I didn't feel their usual blood-constricting effects at all.
Well, at least up until now.
On the bright side—if you can even call it that—at least the numbness in them is finally gone and I can feel my legs now.
My God, I was beyond wasted. Not at all a good look for someone who works at an advertising agency. I really hope none of the company’s clients—past or prospective—was anywhere near that club last night. The very last thing I need in my life right now is to get blacklisted for “unprofessional conduct and display”.
It may not have been during working hours, but as long as I work for Gruman Advertising, I’m still a representation of the firm, and trust me, they do not, under any circumstances, represent super drunk women stumbling around in uncomfortable faux leather heels.
I feel around my bed absently as my eyes remain closed, and my hand comes into contact with more feathers, but something's off about them.
Paulie is a fairly small bird. These feel too large to be his, and they're too many as well.  They can't possibly be his feathers.
I frown as I continue to keep my eyes shut, not wanting to fully subject them to the harsh rays of daylight coming through my window just yet, but my hand continues to feel its way around my bed.
I realize there can only be one explanation for this; my pillows somehow got ripped open and now their feathers are scattered everywhere.
I breathe out a tired sigh. I'm so not looking forward to cleaning up the mess with this stupid hangover I have.
But just then, my hand comes into contact with something else; something far more alarming than feathers—skin.
Human skin.

G.A. (Part Two)

Courtesy of Google images


And by him, I mean my douchebag ex-boyfriend, Lenny.
He was the last person I expected to run into last night. I wasn't at all prepared to see him again after he'd casually dumped me over a fucking text message.
its over, Kia. im c'ing sum1 else.
That was it. No further explanation, no follow up conversation, nada. After almost two years together, that was all the asshat said to me when he suddenly decided to end things between us.
Yeah. Real fucking classy.
And to make matters worse, my ex was there having an extra good time with some random barbie-lookalike-bitch. I mean, really? For fuck's sake, we've only been broken up for three weeks and two days!
Not that I'm counting or anything.
Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, he'd actually had the nerve to come up to me and pretend that everything was all super peachy and dandy. He even bought my brother shots, and Stan, in his extra-tipsy birthday state, just happily accepted them as if they were still cool.
Okay, I think they might actually still be somewhat amicable behind my back, but dammit, I can't have my brother fraternizing with my enemies, especially the one that hurt me the most, I don't care what the occasion is.
That right there was the beginning of my demise. That's when I started mindlessly chugging back the Kamikazes and Jager Bombs like they were spring water, and I think I went a little bit ham on the Tequila, too.  I just kept dumping several ounces of hard liquor down my throat, back to back to back.
It was a stupid thing to do. I know. In hindsight, I really should have just kept my cool, but I was so infuriated I couldn't help myself.
With the way he and his new whore had been acting all lovey-dovey and kissy-kissy in front of me, I knew without a doubt that I was going to cause a scene if I'd stayed completely sober.
Honestly, I'd only meant to get a little tipsy, but I quickly ended up going overboard before I even realized it.
Ugh. Why the fuck did he have to be there?
I can't even believe I'd let myself fall in love with someone who obviously cared so little for me.
Looking back on things, I probably should have seen all the signs and red flags a mile away, but I was too caught up in my feelings of being wanted and desired that I didn't—or maybe even refused to—see Lenny for the gigantic asshole that he so clearly is.
Just then, I realize that I'm being carried, hauled over someone's shoulder like a bag of cement. I know it can't be Stan, 'cause I the last time I saw him, he was on the dancefloor doing a headstand—that somehow ended up being more of a face-on-the-floor-stand. So yeah, it's definitely not him.
Jeez, I really hope he got home safe.
I catch the scent of warm pumpkin spice, and I immediately know I'm in my apartment.
Someone brought me home. But who?
In any case, at least I know I'm safe. That also means I know whoever is carrying me.
I try to speak, but everything I say leaves my mouth in incoherent groans of gibberish.
I feel my body hit the soft cushioning of my bed, and I look up at the silhouette of the face above me, trying to figure out who it is that so graciously brought me back to my apartment, but I can only manage to keep my eyes open for a few seconds before they shut down on me completely and I'm out like busted light bulb.