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I wrote this a few weeks before Halloween. I didn't get around to publishing it until A week and half back. My bad, it was intended to be a Halloween entry (not for the contest, I'm not that good a writer to compete with the ones that enter contest here). The story started out as one type of story and morphed into another. What I had in mind was nice, sweet one-night stand story. What I ended up with is still a one-night stand story, but not so sweet.
A man, a woman, a wild sexual encounter, where lust, desire, and need collide, what more need I say. But wait, there's something dangerous about Cliff. And Iris has a secret. A sensual encounter between to predators, who will win? There is no rape, no violence, yet, it is an extreme story of a violent nature. Wait, what?
A Kiss Before We Part
My First Time
This is a tale pulled from the journal of Thomas Riley. A bitter man, a woman-hater, a man carrying a deep-rooted hatred of all things feminine. His mother is at the root of his hatred, maybe she didn't breastfeed him, or perhaps she let him suck titties until he was 16 and cut him off without explanation. Then again, I don't know, he might just lie about where that hatred began.
After all, he's a serial killer, well not yet; this is his first attempt at killing anyone. Let us say he is an aspiring killer. It could be his ambitions are larger than his balls.
I present you, My First Time, From the Journal of the Serial Killer Thomas Riley.
I have written a flash story for your enjoyment. A little ditty about a girl and boy who fall in love, get married and raise a family -- NOT. It's actually a story about a man and woman, and a small amount of abuse. We don't know her name, we haven't a clue who he is. A woman wakes in a dark place, to a living nightmare, as chiseled in stone man has his way with her. With a bump on her head, her clothing stripped from her body, she waits. The fear holds her where she is, alone in the dark. She hasn't a clue what comes next.
Nightmare
A new adversary arrives in Spiny Cactus County. He announces his presence and his intentions with a bang.
Christian Blackheart is a flawed hero at best. However, he is, in some ways, equal to Sheriff Thornton Lang. His origins are, somewhat, of a mystery. Blackheart walks a thin line, weaver between good and evil, trying to atone for past sins in a life long ago and far away from the 1980s of Spiny, Arizona. His darker nature tugs him one direction while his better angle pushes the other.
To the outside world, he appears to be a mild mannered, soft spoken Minster of the Church of Liberation. Leading a flock of followers in a green valley in the Arizona mountains, he seeks nothing more than living a peaceful life. Once he dawns the mask of the Scarecrow, he becomes a vigilante, hell bent on the destruction of the seedy criminal element of Spiny County.
Will he be the down fall of Sheriff Thon Lang?
The Sheriff of Spiny Cactus County
90 lbs. not anymore!
My moniker no longer fits. I should change it, but the hope is there. I'm still a load of Dynamite, just a lot more of it. I hope to return to my once slender waist, small round butt, and tight body. Jo tells me I'm just fine the way I am. I want to believe her. But, shit, I can see me, and the me I see, well, it makes me none too happy.
All my activities now require long hours of sitting. Writing, work, both are now stagnant pursuits. I supervise at work, seldom go into the field, and have tons of freaking paperwork. At home, I spend my time ghostwriting or writing my work. Jo and I watch tv for one hour a night. I do exercise, but not enough.
I'm happy with my life, not happy with my body. I either learn to accept it or find a way to change it. Just saying, I got no one to blame here.
"Want a second piece of cheesecake."
"No, thanks," Jo responds.
"I wasn't asking if you wanted one, dear, I'm asking you to pass it to me."
Until a year ago, I never weighed more than 100 pounds. Now I can't even spell one-hundred-pounds. Well, I can, I guess, as I just did. Still, it should have another number between the one-hundred, and the pounds.
Sorry, I just felt like bitching for a minute.
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