Tantalyzing Tuesday Teaser, November 12, 2013 ~ "On The Wire" by Robert W. Service

As I write this, it is Veteran's Day. It is a day of all importance as we honor our men, women and families that have served our Country honorably in wartime, peacetime ~ abroad and at home. We have always kept the home fires burning as we await your safe return into our arms.

In my family alone, we celebrate 11 generations of men, women and families that have fought for our Freedom and that of our Allies. And as we know, Freedom is not free. I chose to reprint today my Mother's favorite poet, Robert W. Service. His piece, On The Wire, depicts the price of Freedom too well.

Please be kind and visit all the other participating authors of Tantalizing Tuesday Teasers by clicking on the link or visiting them one by one, listed below. I am sure their Teasers are more in keeping with our fun group and that is to select a photo that inspires a 200 word tickler tease. I chose to depart from the rules on this National Holiday to honor our Veterans, past, present and future. God Bless America. God Bless and thank you for your service to our Country and Allies.

On The Wire
by
Robert W. Service

O God, take the sun from the sky!

It's burning me, scorching me up.
God, can't You hear my cry?
'Water! A poor, little cup!'
It's laughing, the cursed sun!
See how it swells and swells
Fierce as a hundred hells!
God, will it never have done?
It's searing the flesh on my bones;
It's beating with hammers red
My eyeballs into my head;
It's parching my very moans.
See! It's the size of the sky,
And the sky is a torrent of fire,
Foaming on me as I lie
Here on the wire . . . the wire. . . .

Of the thousands that wheeze and hum
Heedlessly over my head,
Why can't a bullet come,
Pierce to my brain instead,
Blacken forever my brain,
Finish forever my pain?
Here in the hellish glare
Why must I suffer so?
Is it God doesn't care?
Is it God doesn't know?
Oh, to be killed outright,
Clean in the clash of the fight!
That is a golden death,
That is a boon; but this . . .
Drawing an anguished breath
Under a hot abyss,
Under a stooping sky
Of seething, sulphurous fire,
Scorching me up as I lie
Here on the wire . . . the wire. . . .

Hasten, O God, Thy night!
Hide from my eyes the sight
Of the body I stare and see
Shattered so hideously.
I can't believe that it's mine.
My body was white and sweet,
Flawless and fair and fine,
Shapely from head to feet;
Oh no, I can never be
The thing of horror I see
Under the rifle fire,
Trussed on the wire . . . the wire. . . .

Of night and of death I dream;
Night that will bring me peace,
Coolness and starry gleam,
Stillness and death's release:
Ages and ages have passed,--
Lo! it is night at last.
Night! but the guns roar out.
Night! but the hosts attack.
Red and yellow and black
Geysers of doom upspout.
Silver and green and red
Star-shells hover and spread.
Yonder off to the right
Fiercely kindles the fight;
Roaring near and more near,
Thundering now in my ear;
Close to me, close . . . Oh, hark!
Someone moans in the dark.
I hear, but I cannot see,
I hear as the rest retire,
Someone is caught like me,
Caught on the wire . . . the wire. . . .

Again the shuddering dawn,
Weird and wicked and wan;
Again, and I've not yet gone.
The man whom I heard is dead.
Now I can understand:
A bullet hole in his head,
A pistol gripped in his hand.
Well, he knew what to do,--
Yes, and now I know too. . . .

Hark the resentful guns!
Oh, how thankful am I
To think my beloved ones
Will never know how I die!
I've suffered more than my share;
I'm shattered beyond repair;
I've fought like a man the fight,
And now I demand the right
(God! how his fingers cling!)
To do without shame this thing.
Good! there's a bullet still;
Now I'm ready to fire;
Blame me, God, if You will,
Here on the wire . . . the wire. . . .

Participating Authors

Molly Synthia  

J S Morbius   Pablo Michaels

Doris O'Connor

Tantalyzing Tuesday Teaser, November 5, 2013 ~ The Para-Portage of Emily

Today is Tantalizing Tuesday. The objective for the participating authors is to select a photo that moves them to write a 200 word teaser for your reading pleasure. I selected this photo below of a 19th century period woman.  I have taken a bit of a liberty as my piece is a wee longer, but, please indulge me. I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, please leave me a comment. I am considering making it into a novella or a full length book. 

So, after you have had your way with me, visit the other authors via the link above or I have listed them all like sea shells below, one by one. They are all outstanding authors just waiting to entertain you with the stories they weave. Enjoy, mes cheries:) xo

The Para-Portage of Emily

The truth is that Emily had discovered the shadows created by light and dark.  Furthermore, she discovered she liked it there, too.  She had still been in control of her destiny then, but not anymore.  In fact, she became a prisoner of the shadow’s seduction…

***

The hours passed and Emily slept to the crackling sounds of the fire.  And then, she dreamed…

***

A young woman ran from a man pursuing her. He collected the young woman in his arms in the foyer of this house and they entered the library, in one another’s arms.  He took her to the couch, where Emily slept, and placed her down gently.  As the man indulged himself in the sweet specter of her breasts, his right hand dropped between the young woman’s legs and gently, inch by slow inch, raised her full hem and petticoats until he found the naked treasure he sought. 

***

The room was nearly dark, save the floor lamp above Emily's waking head.  The fire embers glowed a vibrant red, hot orange-gold and burning blue-white-yellow against the black shadowed backdrop of the firewall.  She composed herself and straightened her clothes.  She allowed a lone hand to search between her legs for evidence of this consuming dream.  She had actually cum in her sleep, while immersed in the vivid vision.  She languished, rolled and stretched into the memory, holding onto the pleasant remains of the dream, smiling intimately to......…to herself and her shadow lover.  

It had felt so real to her; who was he?  

“And when will he return…?” 

Participating Authors

Molly Synthia   Ray Sostre   Pablo Michaels

J S Morbius   Leann Mitchell
Jake Malden   Naomi Shaw

Flash Fiction Friday, November 1, 2013 ~ Love’s Revelry

Today is Flash Fiction Friday. Our writer challenge is to take a photo, common to all the participating authors, and write a 100 word inspiration piece. Today's photo is of the awe inspiring Christopher Meloni, in the shower no less....and naked!! Who wouldn't be moved by that image??

So, please read my piece and comment if you feel so inclined. I enjoy critiques, good or bad, as they help me to improve. Then jump over to all the other author's blogs to read their inspirations. You can use the link above or access them below, listed like heartbroken tears on a cheek ~ one by one.

Love's Revelry

My favorite time of a day has always been the early morning hours when I awaken to you in the shower. Hearing the water, I smiled into your pillow and inhaled the secrets we shared in our passion filled nights.

My revelry shattered slowly as I cried into reality. 

But how?  I smelled your lathered soap, your shampoo. My face buried in your pillow, I visualized your every morning movement: shaving, your routine of applying a manly deodorant followed by your private indulgence of rich facial cream, cologne then baby powder, humming quietly to yourself.

Today, the rain woke me……………….

Doris O'Connor

Michelle Howard

Davee Jones

Pablo Michaels

S.J. Maylee

J S Morbius

Tantalyzing Tuesday Teaser, October 29, 2013 ~ David

Today is Tantalyzing Tuesday Teasers and a fabulous group of authors join to write a 200 word inspiration piece based on a photograph of their own choice.  I stepped into the past as my niece's recent death has caused me to wax nostalgic. 

My first real love as a budding 16 year old was killed in an automobile accident when I was 21 and he 24 when I was in Kansas City. My Mother didn't tell me until I returned home and he had been buried for 6 months. Anyway, I thought I would post this small remembrance I had written in 'Notes' on my Facebook page.

Stop by the TTT link above or visit the pages of my co-authors and read their inspired pieces and first, foremost, enjoy!!  (And yes, that is me when I was about 18 or so....shhhhhhhhhh!)

David and Penny

The years that have passed have done nothing to soothe the fractured heart of a young woman, eager to fall into the arms of a lost love. Yes, time does do something, but heal it does not.  Every once in awhile, like today, something casual and innocent forces the fissures of years past to reopen, lancing a dormant wound.  And the passion, the desire, the loss and painful end releases into the pure, clean, comforting air of quiet acceptance.  It never leaves you; it never frees you. Bound to the past by love, and pain, it never goes away. Why should it?

"At David's Grave"

for B. and H.F.

Yes, he is here in this

open field, in sunlight,among

the few young trees set out

to modify the bare facts--

he's here, but only

because we are here.

When we go, he goes with us

to be your hands that never

do violence, your eyes

that wonder, your lives

that daily praise life

by living it, by laughter.

He is never alone here,

never cold in the field of graves.

Despair

While we were visiting David’s grave

I saw at a little distance

a woman hurrying towards another grave

hands outstretched, stumbling

in her haste; who then

fell at the stone she made for

and lay sprawled upon it, sobbing,

sobbing and crying out to it.

She was neatly dressed in a pale coat

and seemed neither old nor young.

I couldn’t see her face, and my friends

seemed not to know she was there.

Not to distress them, I said nothing.

But she was not an apparition.

And when we walked

back to the car in silence

I stood stealthily back and saw she rose

and quieted herself and began slowly

to back away from the grave.

Unlike David, who lives

in our lives, it seemed

whoever she mourned dwelt

there, in the field, under stone.

It seemed the woman

believed whom she loved heard her,

heard her wailing, observed

the nakedness of her anguish,

and would not speak.

          

***

Denise Levertov

~“Denise Levertov Poems 1968 - 1972”

Doris O'Connor  

Pablo Michaels  

Julez Morbius

Ray Sostre  

Jake Malden  

Paloma Beck

Molly Synthia

Tantalizing Tuesday, October 15, 2013 ~ Nicole Marie Lyle Tranilla

It is Tantalizing Tuesday. Please follow the link to the list of awesome authors participating in today's challenge  or I have them listed below. A photo and 200 words. My tribute is a little closer to 250 words.

My beautiful 39 year old niece died Friday night. She came home from work, said she didn’t feel well and was going to lay down for awhile. She never got up. It was her 16 year old daughter's first Homecoming. She appeared the picture of health and never complained about having anything wrong. I had 3 nephews and only one niece, Nikki. In 2010, my youngest nephew died at 28. There are only two left now. The tragedy of it all is painful. She was such a good girl, wonderful mother and a beautiful person. It's a sad day. Please honor my family and Nikki by reading the tribute I wrote for Nicole on Saturday, when the news was raw and painful.

The Road of Destiny

The road, once bathed in the illumination of Life by the Sun, the Moon and the Stars, is now dimly lit by the faint and flickering past. An Earthbound angel has claimed her wings and been set free to return home.

This path was not chosen.  This road to the darkened nowhere takes us from the heart-warmed embrace of life and our loved ones against our will; perhaps this passageway is unexpected, startling and heart wrenching but it is not unknowing.  This road awaits us all, but for some, the path at once sweet is bitter and too eager to rise before us with the gnawing, gaping, inevitable abyss.

Some turn back to cheat this darkened destiny, but older others fly willingly into the black grasp. Love your life, for the hope, challenge and rewards She bears is the fruit of your breath.

Not so, my beautiful niece who was stolen by the Eternal grasp, donned her wings and flew into the warm comfort of God’s loving embrace.

Fly away, Nikki. Take with you the knowledge that you are loved. For how can we be sad? We cannot deny the beauty of a white hot meteor we have been privileged to have blaze across our Universe. We bear witness to the natural majesty even as it burns out far too quickly before us. We were blessed to have her, even for a moment.

Be free……………….

Nicole Marie Lyle Tranilla  

RIP

February 22,1974 ~ October 11, 2013

Participating Awesome Authors

J S Morbius   Pablo Michaels

Ray Sostre   AuroraRose Andromeda
Molly Synthia   Paloma Beck
Doris O'Connor
Jake Malden

Flash Fiction Friday, October 11, 2013 ~ The Bitter End

I am feeling a little naughty, a little frisky today, this Flash Fiction Friday. So, I have written a short 100 word flash based upon the photograph below, common to all the participating authors. Please read, comment and clear the tables, one-by-one, by reading all the submissions in today's challenge.

You will find that the link above or the list below will lead you to the blogs of all the other talented author participants. I hope you enjoy my flirtation with Lady Fate. Destiny is a wicked equalizer but does in the end, the Bitter End, deliver a purified soul. Enjoy.......consider, perhaps, a change to your wicked ways and your own destiny.

The Bitter End

She walked into the Bitter End with her cue case, thigh high boots and attitude. The tables were cracking and as expected, he was there. Tonight, it would be him.

***

She seduced, lured and kissed him deeply in the misty shadows. He followed her home. She was wet with anticipation. He stripped his drenched shirt then yanked her tube top down, her mini up and lifted her by his fingers plunged into her creamy core. She gasped; he inhaled her sex and they rolled along the wall into her apartment.

She wondered how long before tempting Lady Fate resulted in her own Bitter End.

So, please visit my prurient partners in erotic pedagogy and have a dip into their creative minds to see how they were inspired by this magical photograph. Please leave them a comment, too, as we do this not only for your pleasure and entertainment, but also as an exercise to improve our crafty wiles:) xo 

Davee Jones   J S Morbius   Michelle Howard
AuroraRose Andromeda   Ray Sostra   Raven McAllan
Doris O'Connor   Pablo Michaels   S J Maylee

JP Stevens   Naomi Shaw

Tantalyzing Tuesday Teasers, October 8, 2013 ~ The Emerald Pool

Tantalyzing Tuesday Teasers are here once again to tempt your passions. We each select a photo and write a short 200 word story. They are all different and you are sure to find something that tickles your pleasure fancy. Just follow the link above to see all the participating authors then you can jump one-at-a-time to their blogs to read their sexy stories. Or, I will list them below my short heart-breaker then you can navigate to their blogs from here. Do leave a comment, too, but first...

We "discovered" an emerald, deep-water mountain pool in the Sierras on a drive to Lake Tahoe.  It was as freezing as you would expect and invariably, we always stayed too long in the spring snow runoff.  We were numb and so red our skin was almost blue; but we loved it. We were invigorated by secrecy of the emerald pool: the color a reflection of the redwoods against the intensely blue sky.  There had been many accidents and deaths to divers from the rock sheers that climbed above the emerald surface of the deep water jewel. This story is about one of them.....

The Emerald Pool

They sat in the car as they had so many times before, holding hands, nestling warm cheeks into pulsating napes. The sound of passion coursing through each heart could be heard over the thunderous falls. One youthful day, their lives changed forever, replaced by pain and heartbreak so real, so paralyzingly real.

He carried her to the water's edge as the fall's spray landed softly on her smile. It was here she almost lost her life and only here that she still felt alive.  The chilly spring fed pool suspended her painful, twisted body. The numbing, cold water was stark contrast to the hot, steamy penetration of his hard shaft. This was the only way she could feel his love.

She whimpered and abandoned her pain to his passion. He cupped the sunshine that was her drape to his face. Breathing in the aroma of memories, he stifled a silent scream as he whispered her name.

"Now," she sighed, touching her lover’s face tenderly. "Now................please" 

Breathless, he released her, crying; searing tears fell upon his misted face.  She drifted into the swirl of the emerald pool then disappeared into the waiting dark embrace of relief where she would forever be free.

***

Now, do be a jewel, yourself, and swim over to the other writers and read their crafty creations. As I said, you can jump over to our authors page above on the link or you will find them listed like jewels themselves below. But, do go...go on now and leave them a comment too:) xo

Molly Synthia Ray Sostre J S Morbius

Doris O'Connor Jake Malden

Pablo Michaels Raven MCAllan
JP Stevens

Flash Fiction Friday, October 4, 2013 ~ Impatient Passion

Flash Fiction Friday is unfolding as we speak. As you may or may not know, a group of clever crafty writers get together to write a 100 word, no more no less, story about a photo common to us all that has been selected by our group's admin.

The photograph below reminded me of my years in Paris and the joys of the Left Bank. Ah, romance in the City of Love is irresistible, mais non? There are only a few of us wordsmiths today, so please take a moment to read and comment on my short flash then navigate the romantic waters to the others via the link above or you will find them listed below like fresh baked boulangerie baguettes.

Impatient Passion

We sat along the Left Bank and watched the day ease red into the waiting embrace of the night. The sunset warmed, relaxed, comforted; the wine released anxious inhibitions as the sun bedded for the day. 

Tight knots of anticipation unraveled slowly as our tongues eagerly locked in a breathless dance of expectation.

His fingers traced a burning path up my thigh to the searing wet, velvet folds where my legs joined. My heart pounded, aflame with desire. Sliding his fingers under my thong, his fingertips released currents of impatient passion inside me.

He whispered into a kiss, “Come into me…”

***

I hope you enjoyed my little sojourn down the Parisienne cobblestones of memory lane.  If so, please leave me a comment then saunter over to read what my co-writers have written about this same photo. I can guarantee they will none of them be alike and will be passionate passages you are sure to enjoy.

Sherri Hayes AuroraRose Andromeda

Doris O'Connor Pablo Michaels

J S Morbius SJ Maylee

JP Stevens

Flash Fiction Friday, September 27, 2013 ~ The Sketch

I love Fridays. Friday, the threshold to the weekend......and also to Flash Fiction Friday. Today, as always, a group of stellar wordsmiths congregate to entertain you with variety of short shorts based on the same inspiration photo below featuring 100 words, no more no fewer. You may think this is easy, however, it is not! It takes me more than that to welcome you and thank you for the visit!!

Anyway.....please read and comment on all of the participating contributions. You will find the authors listed at the link above or one by one below, like artist sketches leaning against the gallery wall. But, first, before you dart off eagerly to feast upon the others, please read my answer to this week's challenging photo and leave me a comment, if you are so inclined. I have called my piece, 
The Sketch... 

The Sketch

Startled, she dropped his sketch.

Enraged, his face grew red, his neck swelled against his starched white collar and his pulse throbbed in purple bulges against his temples.  Ashamed, she wrapped her slender alabaster arms across her small breasts, folded to the floor in a puddle of silken flesh, then glanced up.  She had no real fear he would harm her; she had witnessed his anger before.  But, this was the reaction he sought, he required, from her.

“Do NOT move!  I need your fear to feed my passion!” 

“As I need your passion to breathe, sir,” she exhaled, her soul ignited....

***

So, there you have it. I hope you enjoyed it. Me thinks that my lady above will be kindly rewarded for her cooperation and submission. Now, do be a dear and spread your love to the other participating authors who have chosen to join in the fun today. You know we are a diverse group and each delectable story will be a morsel to savor.....and please leave a comment. We ALL thrive on attention:) xo

AuroraRose 

Andromeda: http://rollingmuseintheroses.blogspot.com/

S.J. Maylee: http://SJMaylee.com

Raven Mcallan http://ravenmcallan.blogspot.com

 J.P. Stevens: http://jp-stevens.blogspot.co.uk/

Doris O'Connor: http://thetardisscribbles.blogspot.co.uk/

Sherri Hayes: http://sherri-hayes.blogspot.com/

J S Morbius: http://morbiussworld.blogspot.co.uk/

Leann Mitchell: http://leannmitchell.blogspot.com/

Pablo Michaels: http://www.pmmanmanromance.com/

Davee Jones: http://finless.blogspot.com/

Angela Crum http://cherrydarling317.wordpress.com/

Flash Fiction Friday, September 20, 2013 ~ Dance

Today is Flash Fiction Friday in our group of notable notables.  We write 100 words, no more no less, from the inspiration of a single selected photo, common to us all. I love, love, love this photograph. This one reminded me of loss.....my Father.

I would appreciate it, and consider it a personal favor, if you would read and comment on each of our interpretations of this photograph.  We are all so delectably deliciously different.  You never know what morsel you might find.  You can jump to each post through this link, Flasher Fiction Friday, or I have them listed like notes on the score from a love song listed below. 

Before you depart, please leave me a comment. Your encouragement means so much to me, but do be honest. Twinkle, twinkle little sorrowful note.

Dance

She leaned forward, listening, as the familiar music assaulted her in agonizing waves.  The notes rippled in uncontrollable cascading groups, like oceans of ice cold champagne, over her flesh igniting each nerve long dormant in her heart.

Father was her dance teacher, coach and the first man she ever fell in love with.  He was gone……simply gone. This was his favorite rhapsody. Could … would … the bliss eclipse the mourning?

Her body responded, as the music seduced her sorrows.  She began to stand. The intoxicating melody unfolded the petals of her body as she heard, in a whisper:

”Dance….”

***

So, please follow the writers links listed below and read their interpretations of this wonderful photo. I can assure you that from past experience, we have all written completely something different.  And...isn't that entertainment?

Gemma Parkes: http://gemmaparkes.blogspot.com/

Doris O'Connor: http://thetardisscribbles.blogspot.co.uk/

J.P. Stevens: http://jp-stevens.blogspot.co.uk

J S Morbius: http://morbiussworld.blogspot.co.uk/

Naomi Shaw: www.authornaomishaw.com

Davee Jones: http://finless.blogspot.com/

Leann Mitchell: http://leannmitchell.blogspot.com/

Pablo Michaels: http://www.pmmanmanromance.com/
Fierce Dolan: http://www.fiercedolan.com/blog