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Valentine's Day Challenge--Post your 1000 word count stories here!
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Ok, here goes (can't believe I am first posting!). Yes it is exactly 1000 words - I did say I was persnickerty! Hope you enjoy and thank you in advance to everyone taking part in the challenge....The concert was nearly ending as Murmur slipped into the back of the auditorium and took a seat in the back row; the soft snick of the door closing drowned out by the string quartet playing on the spotlight flooded stage. Technically, as a demon, he could have just materialised in his seat, concealing his arrival from the rest of the audience; but somehow that seemed, well, wrong. As it was, no one noticed; or at least almost no one.
In the darker half of the stage, sitting on the bench seat, Luke slouched over the keyboard of the grand piano. Long blond hair fell around his face, almost a shield between himself and the audience. As Murmur took his seat Luke jerked upright, his head snapping round. Vivid blue eyes scoured the audience until they focused on a fixed point. Although he couldn’t see to the back of the auditorium, he could feel the presence of his mysterious watcher; his muse. A slow smile crept across his face and he sighed softly before returning his focus to the instrument in front of him.
That sigh sounded like a gentle breeze in the demon’s sensitive ear and to his horror he felt a slow warmth grow from within, spreading through him and heating his cheeks. He shook his head gently as if trying to clear it, this wasn’t right, demons didn’t blush. For Devil’s sake, he was one of Satan’s minions, a Count of Hell. He’d stalked the depths of the netherworld and the surface of the Earth gathering souls for his master for centuries. He wasn’t some delicate warm blooded human, run by heart and hormones.
Even as he told himself this Murmur knew that he lied. He had been drawn to his charge from the start. Instructed to bring over the talented musician’s soul for his master what had started out as simply another job had slowly grown into something else, something different, something he’d never had before.
The audience around him burst into applause, startling him from his thoughts. Glancing at the stage he saw the members of the string quartet rise and bow to the audience before filing off the stage. A tuxedo clad MC crossed the stage and took the spotlight.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he announced formally. “For our final piece this evening I am pleased to introduce you to our solo pianist, Mr Luke Shaw, an extremely talented twenty year old who this evening will give the first public performance of his debut composition, In Dreams.”
The spotlight swept across the stage, the filter softening from white to a golden yellow as it settled over the piano, Luke’s hands now poised over the keys waiting to begin.
The first few bars of the piece were fast paced and strangely discordant, almost jarring. Underlying the jangling melody, a series of notes in a minor key, repeating again and again; like the stuttering heartbeat of a human in fear.
Ignoring the startled looks from others in the audience, Murmur closed his eyes and smiled, in dreams indeed; in nightmares.
Luke had woken screaming, tangled in the bed clothes and drenched in sweat for almost a month after Murmur had first appeared to him in his dreams. In these nightmares, Murmur had hidden Luke’s musical gift, locking it away deep inside Luke’s mind where it couldn’t be reached. Pale and listless, unable to hear the music that had been the heartbeat of his life, Luke had taken to wandering the streets in the dark, exhausted yet too scared to fall asleep.
With Luke no longer able to use his musical gift, Murmur should have moved in with his offer, the price that his master demanded; the return of Luke’s musical talents for the duration of his life, in exchange for his soul and an afterlife in hell. It never happened.
Echoing around the auditorium the music began to soften, the thrumming heartbeat slowing; the nightmare easing.
One night, lost in the nightmare and unable to focus, Luke had stepped off the pavement into the path of a speeding car. Following him as usual, Murmur had watched as the vehicle raced towards Luke, the icy grip of a fear that he didn’t fully understand overtaking him. He had acted without thinking. Changing instantly to his true form and launching himself between the frail human and approaching death he had snatched him from in front of the car and with a giant sweep of his wings lifted him from harms way.
Cradling Luke’s inert body in his arms Murmur had been overcome with a strange unfamiliar feeling, the need to protect the young human. As they flew over the city Luke’s blue eyes opened and stared directly into his; and he’d fallen.
Yet again the music changed, becoming even lighter than before and growing sweeter. A lullaby.
In the days and weeks after the rescue, risking the wrath of his master, Murmur didn’t leave Luke’ side as gradually he released him from the nightmare he’d created. Slowly as his gift resurfaced from where it was hidden the bond between the demon and the young man grew. Murmur knew he should leave, but each time he tried to pull away, to return to his fate in the netherworld, Luke would play again and, like a fish in a net, he was trapped.
Satan raged from the pits of hell, demanding Murmur’s return, seeking retribution, punishment. The threats had no effect as long as Murmur followed the beat of the music, the beat of Luke’s heart, Hell could not touch them. Whilst Luke played they were safe.
Long after the music ended and the audience filed out, Murmur remained in his seat, his eyes closed, listening. Footsteps approached him and stopped, but he was not listening to them, he listened instead to the music of the accompanying heartbeat. Opening his eyes he smiled as he looked up in to the face of the young man who had completely changed his afterlife.
*****Blind Obscurity*****“Bite me there and I’ll stick my hand down your throat and rip out your tongue,” I scowled, jutting my knee into the side of the hellhound’s muzzle. Bones cracked within the dog’s jaw as it whimpered, face down, on the simmering coals at my feet.
The dark messenger had been trying to gather my attention to no avail, when it had apparently decided to throw subtlety to the wind and go for the money shot. I wasn’t oblivious to the hound’s impatience. Making my subjects wait was how one exhibited their power, or at least one of the ways.
Going soft wasn’t an option.
“What is it?” I spat, satisfied that I’d taught the dog its lesson.
Its hollow eye sockets, scooped clean after a previous failure, seemed to seek me out, glancing up nervously, its chin hovering barely an inch above the coals, as if it could somehow still see.
I nodded my approval at the nonverbal request.
Cautiously taking a moment before standing up on its haunches, the beast’s black fur began to ripple as bones realigned, instigating the metamorphosis. Four legs became two, arms replacing those at the front, as naked flesh overtook almost every last tuft of fur the boy had previously possessed. Left scarred from centuries of abuse, his torso was a track of white swells.
Overgrown hair—black as onyx—stuck out over his ears, accompanied with a mess of a fringe that he used to cover the indented scar tissue where his eyes once were.
I could see the fractures I had inflicted already starting to heal within the boy’s jaw, the bones reconstructing with the shift.
“I’m waiting,” I said, impatiently.
I flicked at my index finger, striking it against my thumb, the resultant embers catching on the coals.
“Lucifer,” the boy said, a catch in his rough voice, ignoring his own state of undress. “There’s something you need to see. I-I tried to stop him, I managed to—to tear off his leg, but it didn’t seem to deter him.”
I sighed, dreading the feeling that crept up on me. I knew I’d have to punish the boy again, if only to maintain face. Maybe putting him down would be for the best. How many times could one hellhound fail me?
Staring at the boy’s tarnished back, as I allowed the hound to lead the way, only sought to highlight my point.
The heat clawed at my black shirt and slacks as ocean-like flames leapt up the walls of the narrow corridor we’d turned down. The coals lining the ground continued to massage my bare feet with their encroaching warmth.
“Sorry.” The boy turned back around, pressing his shoulder blades into the fiery door that blocked our path. The blue flames singed his flesh as he stood motionless, his chin titled downwards. Pointing to his face, he said, “It won’t grant me access from this side.”
“Get out of the way,” I shoved the boy’s shoulder, sending him face forwards into the heat of the wall.
The boy gritted his teeth, stifling a cry that begged to be let free.
I placed my eye before the biometric scanner—a green, horizontal laser beam scanning my retina before the internal lock released and the door slid back into a crevice within the wall.
The coals ended at the doorway. Dirt, packed hard, with a deep orange tint, replacing the embedded heat with a pervasive chill.
The boy exited behind me, the door sliding closed and securing the one and only way out of hell. Standing on the soils of Earth, I wondered why my hellhound had brought me there. I avoided the mortal plane with a ferocity that rivaled no ones. Angels walked amongst the humans, a species I had no desire to cross paths with ever again.
The Fallen were bad enough.
“You’d better have a good reason,” I began, turning, ready to finish off the boy that had led me there.
“I-I told you,” he stuttered, his chin burrowing deeper into the nook of his marred chest, keeping his sockets aimed securely at the dirt. “He…I-I…bit him…his leg,” the boy stumbled to put together something to save his hide.
I threw my arm outwards, a blue orb leaving my hand and evaporating into specks of mist after finding nothing solid to strike.
Calming myself down, I huffed out a deep breath before turning to face the quivering boy, “That was a warning. Now tell me the truth or the next one will find a nice stomach to penetrate.”
The boy dropped to his hands and knees and began shifting back into his hound form, black fur covering every inch of him in a matter of seconds.
I kicked the dog in its chest, knocking it on its back. “Shift back, now!” I growled.
The dog rolled over and shook its muzzle, backing away with its hind legs perched.
I held my palm like I was offering a treat, fingers edging upwards. Blue sparks appeared, teetering on my fingertips, and then dissipating as new ones took their place. I held my powers with tight precision, reining them in, only for the boy’s sake. If he shifted, I would disengage. Otherwise, I’d have to destroy him. I had no room for dissention amongst my ranks.
“Shift!” I repeated, firing a blast directly into the air.
As the mist rained down on us, tiny pricks of heat eating at my clothing, the hound began its shift, standing before me, naked once again.
He wrapped his arms around my neck, pressing his chin into my shirt, an unnerving chill soaking through.
I gripped the boy’s ribs, pushing him back slightly, “What?” I asked flatly.
The boy’s dark fringe hung downwards, before I forced the boy’s sockets into my view. The boy sniveled, “I’m sorry. I lied. I-I just wanted you to…know me.”
I pressed the boy back into my chest and muttered into a protruding clump of hair, “I do.”
“If I grant you this, you know what will happen to you?” The voice came from no-one, out of no- where, but Reaper wasn’t fazed. He came from no-where and was essentially no-one too. “Yes,” he replied, his attention focused more on the young man in the hospital bed, than the disembodied voice in the room.
He’d been drawn to the boy for some months now, silently watching the disease inside his body eat away at him. The boy had been strong, he’d put up a fight, but the last fortnight had seen Reaper visiting more frequently until he now stood at near constant vigil at the boy’s bedside.
“You will cease to exist, Reaper.”
The boy’s Doctor entered the room. Doctor West. Brisk and businesslike he failed to notice how the boy – Danny, his name was Danny – struggled to straighten up. How his fingers fidgeted and his lashes dipped. If Reaper had been able, he would have felt angry at the Doctor’s blind ignorance. But it had been a long time since Reaper had felt anything.
“Existence isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” he murmered.
There was a moment’s silence. Reaper watched Dr West scribble notes on Danny’s chart while the boy in the bed squirmed, wanting to say something, dying to say something, but not sure how. Doc West didn’t even see it. He re-clipped the chart and gave Danny an absent pat on the shoulder, mind already on his next patient as Danny’s smile, forced past a haze of pain and weariness, wavered on his face.
“It will be…a shock…Reaper.”
Without so much as a backward glance the Doctor left the room. Reaper was the only one to see Danny’s eyes fill with tears. He was the only one who knew that Danny had never been kissed. Never would be kissed. Reaper shifted on his feet, jaw a little tighter than normal.
“I welcome it, your Grace.”
A sigh swept the room.
“You know what I need from you then.”
Reaper thought the hand he brought to his chest might tremble a little, but no, it was as steady as always. Without hesitation he buried it inside himself. His body was his body, but it was not made from flesh and bone.
Squeezing his fist closed, Reaper tore the slippery mass from the middle of his chest. He didn’t bleed, but the quivering muscle in his hand still looked like a throbbing heart. With his other hand, Reaper scooped out his lungs and some threads of intestine.
He handed them over.
Something warm touched him. A goodbye of sorts. Reaper barely noticed. He’d made his pact.
He found Doc West in the staff room. A touch of foreboding was all it took to propel the man back down the hallway, a frown darkening his handsome brow. Reaper took possession of him as he pushed open Danny’s door.
The exchange was simple. A temporary transfer. One soul in, one soul out. But the result…
Reaper staggered. Everything hit him at once. Smells, sounds, the scrape of cloth against his skin, the glare of light in his eyes. Every one of his senses tumbled into overdrive and he gasped, trying to absorb it all as the world spun, lightning fast, around him.
“Doctor West?”
The sound of Danny’s voice brought Reapers revolving world to an abrupt stop. Reaper’s head snapped up. Danny had slipped from his bed and was stumbling towards him. On legs that were disease weakened and uncooperative. Reaper shot forward just as Danny’s legs crumpled, catching him before he hit the floor.
The heat of Danny’s body instantly rushed in and stole beats from Reaper’s heart. Reaper sucked in a breath and clung to the boy, breathing him in through every pore, his heart a wild thing in his chest, his limbs trembling. God! Danny felt so good in his arms. So solid. So alive. And he smelled good too. Like warm summer rain on fresh cut grass. Reaper opened eyes he hadn’t even realized he’d closed and met the surprised blue of Danny’s. Loosening his grip on the boy, Reaper drew him back to his feet.
Danny immediately clutched at Reaper’s arm, boney fingers digging in. “What’s wrong? Is it the test results? Are they bad?”
The sweet brush of Danny’s breath on Reaper’s face sent a shiver of goosebumps down his spine. He forced himself to focus on Danny’s words.
“Actually, your test results came back far better than expected.”
The boy’s mouth cupid bowed, so pretty warmth flooded Reapers chest. He swallowed, voice huskier than usual as it scraped past the sudden tightness in his throat.
“But that’s not why I’m here. I do believe it’s Valentines Day.”
All of a sudden Danny seemed to realize whose arms were around him and a blush crept from his neck to his cheekbones to his hairline. Unable to help himself, Reaper reached out and brushed the backs of his fingers over the heated skin. Danny caught his breath, and an invisible band wrapped itself around Reaper’s chest, squeezing tight. Reluctantly he slid his fingers from the softness of Danny’s cheek.
“I have something for you.”
Danny seemed even more shocked by this statement than he had been about the positive test results. Reaper reached into the Doc’s pocket and drew out his gift.
The palm sized porcelain heart glistened like a wet ruby. Black and white ribbons wrapped around it like circling arms. All of Reaper’s offerings bound together as one.
“I love it,” Danny whispered, hand trembling as he took the gift. He stroked one of the ribbons, unaware that as he did so, colour bled from the ornament into his flesh. But Reaper saw, and the peace he was so used to bringing others finally settled inside himself.
Danny’s gaze shifted to Reaper, the look on his face so sweetly shy, Reaper wanted to memorize every inch of it and tuck it deep inside.
“But I don’t have anything for you.”
Heat flushed the boy’s face again, but this time it was brighter. Healthier. Reaper reached for Danny’s hand and found the pulse in his wrist steadier and stronger than it had been mere moments ago. He smiled, ignoring, as best he could, the stuttering of his own heart and the weakness rapidly invading his limbs. He didn’t have long. He didn’t NEED long.
“Ahh, but you do,” Reaper insisted. He drew Danny closer, rejoicing in the strength in the boys half step. “You have my first kiss.”
“And your last,” came the voice for the final time.
“And my last.” Reaper agreed.
K wrote: "Ok, here goes (can't believe I am first posting!). Yes it is exactly 1000 words - I did say I was persnickerty! Hope you enjoy and thank you in advance to everyone taking part in the challenge......"Oh K--that is lovely--that music changed his evil to good---how wonderful is that!!!! Loved it!
Rach. wrote: "“If I grant you this, you know what will happen to you?” The voice came from no-one, out of no- where, but Reaper wasn’t fazed. He came from no-where and was essentially no-one too. “Yes,” he repl..."
OMG---so sweet--so sad!! Rach, when do we get to read your first novel??? I can't wait!!!!
Omg. Such awesome stories. Aww, the little hellhound broke my heart. @K, totally, music has such power. Just fab.
@Rach aww. The things we do for love..awesome
Oh what an amazing trio of stories: love overcoming destiny, love bound but recognized, love sacrificing everything. All wonderful. You guys are amazing.Rach - you'd better start publishing.
Brett - your imagination leads me places I never expect.
K- just gorgeous and sweet, makes me sigh at the end :)
Brett wrote: "*****Blind Obscurity*****“Bite me there and I’ll stick my hand down your throat and rip out your tongue,” I scowled, jutting my knee into the side of the hellhound’s muzzle. Bones cracked within..."
good lord---Brett--such power in your words---makes me shiver--feels like I am right there--in the story!!! Just wonderful!
I wasn't sure if we were allowed to comment on this thread or not so I've just waited...but now that you guys have been :) K! Awwwwww, that was awesome. I loved your story. So touching.
Brett - You already know what a wonderful imagination I think you have and what a beautiful way with words. I want to say THANK YOU for helping me with my story too - and for nudging me to write it in the first place - your honesty and critiquing skills are much appreciated :D
Sammy, Elci and Kaje - Thank you!! <3
Since it's now the 14th here I'm going to post mine (version 3 - the successfully under 1000 words one :)******** Working ********
Gail stared at the wall over Mephistopheles' shoulder, trying to breathe lightly and not choke on the odor of brimstone. She hated these meetings with her boss. Mephistopheles leaned back in his chair, the creak of protesting wood loud enough to pull her reluctant eyes to his.
“Sooo, little succubus.” His voice was harsh and deep. “Care to explain that?” He waved a hand at the wall behind him.
She looked over his shoulder again. It was hard to look away. The entire wall of Mephistopheles' office was now paneled in a sheet of matte black, punctuated with hundreds of little lights. Many of the lights were blue, a thin mournful azure, and a small few glowed heart's-blood red. But some were - Gail choked a little despite her control – some were pink and lavender!
“Um. I had nothing to do with the bad decorating job. Sir.”
Mephistopheles' smile had been known to make crocodiles tremble. He turned it on her now. “That's not decorating. That's a progress board. Look up there. Go on. Fourth row from the left, seven down. Look at that light.”
Carefully Gail made her way around the big mahogany desk and stepped up to the new wall. Four over, seven down. The light was one of the pink ones. Deep pink actually. “Sir?” She let her voice rise at the end but didn't ask a question. You didn't question Mephistopheles.
“That's your target. What were their names? Sharon and Ellen?”
“Sharon and Elaine. Sir.”
“And what color do you see?”
“Um, it's...” Pink...rose, carmine... “It's desaturated red, Sir.”
Mephistopheles snorted loudly, and the smoke wafted on the still air of the room. “It's pink, succubus. It's pink progressing to red. Do you know what that means?”
“No, Sir.”
“It means you are failing. Blue means sadness, pain, isolation. Blue is your goal. That pink means they are affectionate, content, moving perhaps toward love.” He spat the word like the taste of it was foul. Mephistopheles sat up and planted his hands on the desk. “You will go back up there and seduce that girl Ellen. You will break them up. It's your job. I gave you the perfect form for it, her fantasy girl exactly as she described in her diary, perfect in every detail. You have no excuse.”
Gail looked down at herself. She was clad in a lovely tall female body, slim but subtly rounded, with raven hair and alabaster skin. She knew her nose was small and pert and her eyes were sapphire blue. Everything that Elaine had written she dreamed of. And she hadn't been able to come even an inch between Elaine and the short, dumpy, laughing, brown-haired girl she was falling in love with.
“Yes, Sir.”
Mephistopheles waved at the board. “And I'll know how you are doing. I want to see that light shading toward blue.”
“That's pretty impressive technology,” Gail said, trying to butter him up.
“Isn't it? Hell got a new computer programmer. We didn't think we'd catch him, but in the end it turned out every book on his Kindle was pirated. Heaven has a soft spot for writers so that tipped the balance. He's a whiz kid with the LEDs. Now git!”
Mephistopheles waved casually at her and Gail felt the room dissolve around her. When her eyes cleared she was back in the hallway of the club, watching Elaine and Sharon sway together to the music that was playing. Sharon's head was on Elaine's shoulder. Elaine's cheek lay on the shorter girl's brown curls and her eyes were closed. A soft smile curved her lips. Break them apart. Right.
Gail smoothed the line of the lace bustier she was wearing, and ran a hand over the black leather of her skin-tight pants. She looked good. She knew it. She should tap on Elaine's shoulder and ask for a dance. But she just watched them move like the same music was running through both of them, like they knew each other heart-deep.
A voice behind her said, “The tall one's pretty. The short one's not much.”
Gail turned. The woman beside her was gorgeous, smooth cafe-au-lait skin, silky dark hair to her shoulders, deep brown eyes. “Hey,” the woman said. “I'm Gabrielle.”
“Gail.”
“We match.” Gabrielle gave her a wide, brilliant smile. “Come on Gail. Dance with me for a bit. What can it hurt?” Gail glanced back toward her target and hesitated. Gabrielle shook her head ruefully, and then turned Gail's face back toward her with one finger on Gail's cheek. “You're not going to be tapping that one – not before the end of the song, at least. Anyway, I'm ten times as hot as she is.” A little shimmy of her lush body, clad in thin silk, emphasized the fact.
Gail felt herself respond. She was a succubus after all. Sex was her obsession. She glanced back at the two women. They weren't completely in love yet. A succubus knew when her target passed that point of no return that took them out of play. She had a little time. And Gabrielle was smoking hot. “Sure,” she said. “One dance.”
She moved into Gabrielle's arms. The music ran dreamily over them, as Gabrielle danced Gail in slow swoops down the hallway instead of out onto the floor. It didn't matter. This was wonderful. Gail closed her eyes and leaned into the firm heat of Gabrielle's body. With her eyes closed, she didn't see the faint flicker in Gabrielle's hair, as her halo gave light in the darkness of the corridor.
Behind them on the dance floor, Elaine moved her mouth closer to Sharon's ear, and whispered a brief question. Sharon stumbled, looked up at Elaine, and smiled in amazed delight. “Yes. Absolutely yes.”
In his smoky office, in the upper levels of Hell, Mephistopheles saw a light on his board go from pink to heart's blood red, four from the left, seven down. His curses filled the air with sulfur and fumes.
And Gabrielle smiled silently, closed her eyes and pulled the lithe succubus in her arms a little closer. Sometimes she loved her work.
********
Kaje! *claps hands* That was cool az. I'm loving these stories. So easy to read and just brilliant :D Well done on your word count too!! lol
Kaje--that left me with a big smile!! I'm loving how much can be packed into just a thousand words.
@Brett - Wow! Amazingly strong and imaginative writing@Rach - I have always had a soft spot for stories featuring Death as a personification... this was just wonderful!
@Kaje - Oh, now Gail and Gabrielle are lovely... but poor Meph, he never stood a chance of having control!
Thank you everyone who commented on my story I had great fun writing it (though I'll admit now if I hadn't posted first with the amazing quality of the others I may have whimped out from posting!)
K
Awesome stories, all! Now you have to make them longer... and submit them... and let me know when they're published!
Kaje wrote: "Since it's now the 14th here I'm going to post mine (version 3 - the successfully under 1000 words one :)******** Working ********
Gail stared at the wall over Mephistopheles' shoulder, trying ..."
Dear woman, I loved this story---simple delightful!
Made For Walkin'Every night Bartlet - Demon and assistant CPA for Nether World Zone 7 – wrote in his journal Nancy (yes he named his journal after Nancy Sinatra. Ever since he saw These Boots Were Made for Walkin’ on YouTube he liked her – and her boots. )
Feb 3
Omg, eye candy alert.
1- A new demon started work today. I don’t know his name or what he’s going to be doing. All I know is that he’s not in the accounting department, and he’s very very cute.
2- I’m going to buy some go-go boots. I think they’re awesome and I want a pair.
3- I think I’ll to put up a rainbow sticker on my corkboard. Ha! I’m so subtle.
~B~
Feb 4
Yay for great days.
1- It’s the weekend, but I had to go into work. There’s no rest for the wicked. Yeah, I know I’m funny. Guess who was there? Yeah. Ok, I knew he was going to be there but I did have work to do.
2- His name is Lasha. He’s in the IT department. Need to come up with a reason to call the helpdesk.
3- His cubicle is on the same floor as mine. We share a lunch room. I’m not saying that I’m going to stalk him, but I’m going to find out when he takes his lunch and casually bump into him.
~B~
Feb 5
Woah, another fab day.
1. I saw Lasha today. I had to go for groceries and there he was, buying hair color.
2. Yay for being able to buy hair dye and food in the same location. Now if only they sold those boots.
3. I told him I liked the hot pink. I think it’d go well with his dark hair. I was going to invite him to have something to drink when my cell rang.
~B~
Feb 6
I’m in like, Woo hoo!!
1- He dyed his bangs. Hot pink! His bangs have a tendency to fall into his eyes. Nancy, you know how much I love cute boy bangs and Lasha has them in spades. The hot pink didn’t clash with his red horns. It looked mighty fine.
~B~
Feb 7
Gonna sleep with a smile.
1- Lasha, walked into my cubicle today. He is seriously hot. He needed to fill out some forms. Yay for forms. We spoke for a brief moment. I wanted to ask him to have lunch with me, but his pager went off. His eyes turned bright red at the intrusion; I’m taking that as good sign.
2- I did tell him again how good his hair looks. I offered to help him pick hair color anytime. He smiled and said he might just take me up on the offer.
3- I need to order a pair of patent leather go-go boots. The ones with the high heels. Yeah, I have a weakness for pumps.
~B~
Feb 8
Sigh, I think it’s love.
1- Had lunch with Lasha. Shh, but I staked out the cafeteria. I casually sauntered in when he sat down. He invited me to sit with him. Yay, for manners. And he wears eye liner. Ha! He’s taller than me – who isn’t? And has a nice slim build. He swims every day. He got into the habit when he was on level 5 as it was closer to the fiery pit and that was the only way to really cool down.
2- Nice smiles, cute dimples and sharp fangs. What more can a boy demon want?
3- I’m going to ask him out for a date. He had a rainbow bracelet on today.
~B~
Feb 9
Good day, bad day.
1. I saw Lasha twice today. Once at lunch. He came into my cubicle and asked me to join him. Yay for surprise lunch dates. I wanted to brush his bangs aside and kiss him. I did suggest another color though, purple for Valentine’s Day. I want him to be my valentine.
2. I was looking for my go-go boots on line when my laptop died. Stupid infected websites. I took it to the IT dept and there was Lasha.
3. Who knew demons could blush so hard? I was mortified when I told him I was looking for some go-go boots. No point in lying, he has access to my search history. Sigh.
~B~
Feb 10
My two hearts are breaking
1- I saw Lasha having lunch with someone else today. I didn’t want to interrupt. They looked really couply sitting together. Not sure if he saw me.
2- No jumping to conclusions, but when I walked by Lasha’s cubicle – it’s not stalking, I just like knowing who’s in the office- the guy was in there again and they were looking at something on Lasha’s desktop. I heard Lasha say that he’d see him later on tonight. Ok, so I lingered, but my shoe got untied.
~B~
Feb 13
Still not sleeping well. Grr.
1. I haven’t spoken Lasha recently. Ok, it was the weekend, but still. I did see him today, but only briefly. I wanted to speak with him. Valentine’s Day is tomorrow and I did have some hopes.
2. Not sure if shoe shopping is going to cure this sadness.
~B~
Feb 14
Best day of my life - ever
1. Lasha had purple bangs today.
2. I have a Valentine. And it’s Lasha!!
3. I get my new boots in a couple of days. The reason he and the other guy were having lunch and looking at the screen together was because they were figuring out how to order my boots without infecting another computer.
4. We’re going out tonight, and we’ve already made plans for this weekend.
5. We kissed in my cubicle and he sure does know how to use those fangs.
6. I promised Lasha I’d model my new boots for him. With a little swing in my hips and those high heels, I had no doubt I'd be walkin' right into his arms.
~B~
Elci (LC) wrote: "Made For Walkin'Every night Bartlet - Demon and assistant CPA for Nether World Zone 7 – wrote in his journal Nancy (yes he named his journal after Nancy Sinatra. Ever since he saw These Boots Wer..."
Omg, cracked up so much. I freaking love this.
Elci (LC) wrote: "Made For Walkin'Every night Bartlet - Demon and assistant CPA for Nether World Zone 7 – wrote in his journal Nancy (yes he named his journal after Nancy Sinatra. Ever since he saw These Boots Wer..."
LOL - oh thank you Elci, that is fab, you have just so cheered up my work induced bad mood! :o)
Paper HeartsTal’s pink tongue darted out between his teeth a he carefully tied the last bow. He leaned back to admire his handiwork. The garishly bedazzled package was a veritable explosion of bright purple and pink hearts, silvery glitter and not less than 8 tiny gold bows. “Ah…perfect!” Tal thought to himself. He reverently placed the package inside the plain wooden box where it would remain until later that night…Valentine’s Eve. Tal grabbed himself as he shook with joy at the thought of having Beelzebub all to himself in less than 3 hours. Of course Beelzebub was completely unaware that Tal had hatched a magnificent plan to present the Lord of Darkness with his gift. In fact, Beelzebub was completely unaware of the fact that it was even the eve of the most reputedly romantic day on earth and, unfortunately, blissfully ignorant of even Tal himself. It most definitely WAS an important night in the caverns of hell, but not one normally marked with ribbons and hearts. Rather this night would see the crowning of a new consort to the Prince of Darkness. So many Valentine’s Eve had passed with out the naming of a consort that the entire underground was abuzz with the news that Beelzebub had announced the naming was to happen tonight. In a few short hours, one lucky demon would be chosen, his or her (“eew, nasty girls, thought Tal”) chest bared before the gathered crowd and then pierced with the ceremonial dagger wielded by the Prince himself. As the ceremony demanded, his majesty would then turn the knife to his own finely chiseled chest and make a similar mark. Tal closed his eyes dreamily, seeing himself standing there before the Prince, chest pierced for all to see, the Prince, his own fine torso running in crimson, bending closer and closer, bringing their flesh together to bond their souls together forever…till death do they part…in other words, never! So how did Tal think he was going to pull off this romantic gift giving exchange in the midst of the highest festival ever? Tal sighed, this time a bit unhappily, as he realized that it was probably never going to happen. Yes, he was the imp assigned to dress his royal hotness as Tal had fondly nicknamed the Prince. But he was only that…a mere servant. No more, no less. Well, maybe less after all. It went without saying as imps go he was the least impish of them all. He was the lowest on the totem pole that was the imp hierarchy in Hell. As his friend Zaz was often fond of saying. “If Hell weren’t already a deep pit in the middle of the earth, Tal could find one and disappear in it!” Zaz wasn’t being unkind, just honest. Plus, Tal was a classic screw-up—even for Hell who owned it’s fair share of that kind. He often went completely unnoticed. But, oh if he only could have remained that way last week when it had been his turn to serve the royal court. Yes, Tal would have paid dearly to remain completely unnoticed, as he recalled tumbling ungracefully to the floor while simultaneously carrying a tray of freshly squeezed demon blood that was intended for the Lord and Master of Hell himself. Damn his big feet!
Tal peeked once more at the sparkly wrapped package nestled inside the wooden box. Giving himself a stern mental shake, he carefully placed the box right next to the ceremonial dagger that was to be used by the Lord of Darkness later that night. With a last glance he looked longingly at the dagger and the small gift beside it as he turned out the light on the closet-sized room he called home. Time to prepare the Prince for his bonding ceremony.
Beelzebub held out his arms in preparation for the ceremonial robes Tal was holding. As Tal dipped his head to tie the jewel encrusted belt around his waist, the Prince bit back a smile. Little did the mischievous imp know the extent to which he had wormed his way into the evil one’s heart. Each day, Beelzebub found himself flinging aside wardrobe piece after piece just so that the little one would be forced to spend more time in his presence. The Prince found himself waiting almost breathlessly for the imp to speak in that shy, hesitating speech. Tonight was no different as the two danced a delicate pas de deux over the correct shoe selection.
“Not that one, little fool”, growled the Prince, barely smothering a chuckle as he watched Tal nearly fall backwards over the heaped pile of discarded shoes. How could one little imp have captured him so completely? His hands ached to reach out and touch the soft down of Tal’s cheek, to graze the plump pink bow of his mouth and then slide lower, still lower to the silken treasure that lurked and pressed tight beneath the ties of Tal’s emerald green trousers even now. Yes, this night the little imp would be his, bonded to him for all eternity, blood to blood, flesh to flesh. And ah, what delectable flesh it was. The Prince felt a responding flutter in his groin as it began to rise and harden at the thought of touching those muscled thighs, caressing that long, silken hair and finally kiss those sweet, sweet lips. He shook himself out of his reverie to find that the object of his desire was staring up at him, holding not a shoe aloft for the Prince’s inspection and approval, but a small package that was bursting with pink and purple frou frou. It was so bright it nearly hurt his eyes. He cocked a brow in a silent question as the small hands holding the gift aloft began to tremble. “Uh, if it please your m-m-majesty, a small gift to mar-mar-mark this s-s-s-solemn occasion. “
“gods”, the Prince thought, “even in speech he is the most delectable creature I have ever known”. Without a word, Beelzebub took the small package, gently removing the various adornments and slowly lifting the lid; inside lie a small paper heart. Gently, almost reverently, the Prince of darkness lifted out the delicate token and leaned in closely to read the tiny script imprinted there.
My heart is yours…always.
The most feared leader of the great underworld looked down at the lowest of his vassals and with a soft smile, said, “Come, my sweet imp, this night you are mine for all eternity”.
Elci - that was so cute and funny, just wonderful (of course some demons wear go-go boots.)Sammy - just Awww. So sweet - Tal was adorable.
K wrote: "Thank you everyone who commented on my story I had great fun writing it (though I'll admit now if I hadn't posted first with the amazing quality of the others I may have whimped out from posting!)..."
Come on, hon, you know yours stands up to anything else here - we're all freaking brilliant ;)
@Sammy - Tal is wonderful... Imp's that get their own way rock!@Alex - wow that's powerful writing!
@Kaje - yes, I know *sigh* .... I shall repeat "we are all freaking brilliant ;)
Alex wrote: "***Black and White Wings***Dear Diary; today was not a good day for me. I still have Larry in my head. Eurgh, he’s on a loop. ‘You liar. I can’t believe it. All this time, you were lying to me? D..."
lovely sweet boy--lovely!
Elci (LC) wrote: "Made For Walkin'Every night Bartlet - Demon and assistant CPA for Nether World Zone 7 – wrote in his journal Nancy (yes he named his journal after Nancy Sinatra. Ever since he saw These Boots Wer..."
I lOVE this Elc--just love it--I want to wrap up Bartlet and take him shopping!! This was so clever!!!
Alex - so gorgeous in the images and it sweeps through an onslaught of emotions. One just has to ache for Alois. And Larry, doing what he thought was right. Fascinating story.It's cool that these stories are all great and all so different :)
Hell Hath no Fury Like a Man, Demon-ScornedJacob was washing his hands when Donna came out of the stall behind him. He sucked in his breath and froze.
Same angular features, same clothes as that morning. Hair swept back into a braided bun, clips sparkling in the yellow glare of old light fixtures. Not the same body. The shirt hung awkwardly over a too-flat chest, stretched tight across wide shoulders. Jacob's eyes traced their way down to the unmistakable outline at the crotch of the jeans, flicked back up to Donna's face. Wide, black pupils, no irises. A slight hiss -- just the air conditioning kicking in -- and the faint scent of something burnt -- Home Ec's right down the hall -- only it wasn't that, and he knew it. He'd known it from his first day here, he just hadn't wanted to admit it.
A throaty laugh. "You don't look surprised." Same gentle, lyrical voice. Donna's voice. Diane's voice, when she'd wanted it to be.
Donna's house always empty of any sign of other life, her parents both neat-freaks who worked late. Diane's parents the same. Donna's lack of interaction with the teaching staff, neither turning homework in nor receiving it back. She'd have to receive the handouts in the first place to do it. No friends of her own outside those Jacob had made here -- Diane not the same, exactly, but she had always used social interaction as a smokescreen to mask herself from the world. Or maybe just from Jacob; he couldn't remember her ever paying that much attention to anyone else.
At the time, he'd thought it was because they were in love.
He couldn't look at her -- at -- at him. "You knew I wouldn't be." It was a lie, almost. Figuring it out did nothing to prepare him for the confirmation. He swallowed, forced his gaze back up. "So. Are you still Donna like this, or should I call you something else?"
Lips twisting in a mockery of a smile. The black eyes blazed; underneath the fire, an emotion Jacob would call self-loathing if he didn't know better. "It's Dante." The voice deeper now, as though he had no more use for Donna's voice. "Dantalion, actually, but I don't think that means anything to you."
It didn't. Jacob let it pass. "Why are you doing this?" Not what he really needed to know. Not: Why did you follow me here? Not: How long have you been rewriting my thoughts?
There was pity in Dante's eyes. Jacob's gut twisted with anger. His hands clenched. You bastard.
"You wanted it," Dante said.
Knuckles white with fury. "I did not!" He slammed the faucet off and whirled, fists slicing the air where Dante had stood. Strong arms gripped his wrists, held him still and trembling.
Dante's face was centimetres from his own, the rise of his chest slow and even under Jacob's own rapid breathing. It wasn't fair that he was so collected when Jacob's rage was fierce enough to kill. It wasn't fair that Dante pitied Jacob when he'd taken Jacob for a ride, twice. It wasn't fair that Dante had been inside Jacob's mind, hotwired Jacob's brain. It wasn't fair that Dante was a demon, that Jacob couldn't trust anything Dante said or did or even anything Jacob said or did or wanted or needed when Dante was around. It wasn't fair that, even knowing that, Jacob loved him -- or at least thought he did.
He's close enough to kiss me.
It wasn't fair that Dante was absolutely right.
"You did," Dante said, softer now, breath tickling Jacob's face. "You wanted to love a woman. I gave you that."
Anger again. It was futile to try to overpower a demon, but Jacob struggled against Dante's hold anyway. "Yeah," he snarled, "and then you threw it in my face, made sure I and everyone else knew it was a lie."
Four schools in two years. The jeers, the taunts, the self-hatred, his parents' disappointment. Two extra moves when his parents weren't able to find jobs near enough to the new cities. The constant fear of being found out anew. Underneath it all, the hurt of betrayal that never really healed.
Dante nodded. "I'm sorry," he said, voice earnest -- it's a lie, you can't trust him, it's a lie -- and released him.
Jacob twisted one hand in Dante's shirt, tugged him close and drew back his fist.
Dante waited.
Do it. It's a lie. You can't trust him. Do it.
He couldn't do it.
He stepped back. Hefted his backpack, made for the door. Dante's eyes tracked his progress, a tingle of heat crawling up his spine.
He stopped. Sighed. "Why'd you follow me here?"
"I wanted to make things right."
Strangled laughter. "Sure."
"It's the truth!" A flash of annoyance. Jacob immediately felt better.
He turned, flashed Dante a feral grin. "I'm supposed to trust a demon?"
Dante flinched, looked down to the corner where Jacob's backpack had sat moments earlier. Pulling his arms in close, he said, "I wanted to show you that it's okay. Loving men. That's why Diane started all those rumours, so you could stop lying. When I came here--" He closed his eyes. "You weren't going to fall for Donna, you were going to be best friends. She was going to help you come out."
It made a kind of sense. Except where it didn't. Like why Dante cared about whether or not Jacob came out in the first place. "So, what happened?"
"I was selfish. I wanted to keep you to myself."
Jacob's heart thudded heavy in its cage. He couldn't mean...? "Okay," he said slowly. "Why?"
Dante's laughter grated on Jacob's ears, a harsh, unpalatable sound. "It's pathetic," he growled, and this time Jacob was sure of the self-loathing in Dante's voice. "Demons aren't supposed to fall in love."
He did. Jacob couldn't believe it. He took a cautious step, then another, until he was standing in Dante's space, breathing Dante's air, their feet lined toe-to-toe, almost touching. His stomach was a mess of euphoria and nerves. The strap of his backpack dug into his shoulder.
Dante's gaze flicked up, met his. "I could be making you want this."
"You're not." The strength of his conviction surprised him. "Can you make me think things when you're not there?" Dante shook his head. "I didn't think so. You wanted me to love Diane, not Donna, but when you weren't around, I did. I figured out who you were a while ago, even if I couldn't wrap my head around it. I don't know which body is closest to the real thing, and I'm sure you know I think you're more attractive like this, but either way --" He brushed his lips against Dante's, relished the way Dante's eyes fluttered shut and his mouth tried to follow as Jacob pulled back. "--I love you."
Dante was still, each breath measured and careful. He opened his eyes. "There isn't one. A 'real' body. I use whatever I want people to see."
Given everything else, the knowledge shouldn't have come as a surprise. Jacob wanted to laugh. The look on Dante's face stopped him. "Am I supposed to pick, or do you have a preference?"
"I --" Dante stopped. Ran a hand through hair that was suddenly much shorter. Hairclips clattered to the floor. "Dante's the closest to my name. Feels less like -- lying." He locked eyes with Jacob, the heat of his gaze making Jacob's skin prickle. "But it's your choice."
"I like Dante," Jacob said immediately. He frowned; that felt like the wrong answer. Too simple. "I liked Donna, too. I liked Diane. If you want to change sometimes, I don't care." There. That felt… right. Mostly. He could fix it later, if need be.
Dante's hands were on his shoulders. The kiss was hard and fast, and took him by surprise. A wordless thank-you before Dante bent down to collect the fallen hairclips and rose as Donna.
"Since we're still at school," she said, pulling her hair back. She smiled, but her mouth was tight. Worried he wasn't as comfortable with the change as he'd said? Worried he would use her to stay in the closet?
"I don't care," he said, more firmly this time, lacing their fingers together and leading her outside. When he looked back, the hand gripping his was Dante's.
Donna transferred out that afternoon. Dante transferred in the next day.
Oh wow. That is just really cool! Where the heck have you been hiding? 'Cause now you have to write for us every challenge (I'm a mod and I say so.)Wonderful story, thank you! And I love the title BTW.
Boy is the android wrote: "Hell Hath no Fury Like a Man, Demon-ScornedJacob was washing his hands when Donna came out of the stall behind him. He sucked in his breath and froze.
Same angular features, same clothes as tha..."
Very cool story. I liked Jacob for being soo cool about the whole gender thing.
OMG. These are just all SO good. This was such a great idea for a thread mods!! :D
Boy is the android wrote: "Hell Hath no Fury Like a Man, Demon-ScornedJacob was washing his hands when Donna came out of the stall behind him. He sucked in his breath and froze.
Same angular features, same clothes as tha..."
SO very clever--I really liked this one!!! Thanks for joining in the fun!
These stories are all great!!! I love them :)
These are awesome! Boy is an android, I agree with Kaje, even though I'm not a mod...
Boy is the android, do you think you might ever do an expanded version of this? Because seriously, I'd love to read both the before and the after of this story.
Thorny wrote: "FABULOUS stories everybody! :D"Thanks Thorny!! :D
Thanks, guys! I'm waaaaay out of practice with writing and was nervous about posting; I'm glad I did. :DKaje -- I'm a terrible lurker
Boy is the android wrote: "Thanks, guys! I'm waaaaay out of practice with writing and was nervous about posting; I'm glad I did. :DKaje -- I'm a terrible lurker with an occasional problem with authority, so it's anyone's..."
Well , we're delighted you gave us this much anyway. Thank you (and glad you were lured out of lurking for a bit.) Authority is pretty casual around here most of the time so hopefully we can tempt you to comment more.
So Aussies and Kiwis--it's your turn first as Cupid strikes the lands down under before anywhere else! Everyone else please wait till February 14 to post!