Take Me

nikewrites:

Here’s a little something sensual for Throwback Thursday. ;-)

take me pic blog

Originally posted on Nikewrites Blog:

I don’t know how you figured out my deepest secret

And discovered that place that makes my knees weak.

You don’t have to touch me to steal my ability to utter a phrase.

I look forward to what you do to me each and every day.

When you say my name, heat rises within me

You handle each syllable of my name like classic poetry.

And when you finally touch me my nerve endings tingle.

And the butterflies in my stomach start to flutter and mingle.

Your lips brush over mine, lightly, teasing and licking.

I can’t help but think about the love we’ll soon be making.

But then you kiss that spot, and nip at it lightly,

I try not to moan too loud but, Oh! You excite me!

We’ve only just begun, but you have me on teetering the edge.

I’m practically begging you to take me to…

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Dead Meat

nikewrites:

It feels wrong to have a favorite piece of work. It’s like saying you have a favorite child!! But this is a story I keep coming back to because it was so much fun to put together! Enjoy!

Butcher's counter

Originally posted on Nikewrites Blog:

I wrote this story some time ago as part of a writer’s workshop. I decided to open the story with dialog and as I continued to write, the dialog just kept flowing.  So, I let it flow! It was just as much fun to write as it is to read! Enjoy!

Butcher's counter

“Mel, you have nothing to worry about.  Just relax.  If you look nervous, they’ll know!”

“I can’t help it. I’ve never done anything like this before.  Are you sure no one will notice?”

“Positive.  I’ve been doing this once a month for the last year and I haven’t been caught yet.  Just act like you are checking prices.  Do a lot of inspecting so you look like a serious shopper.”

“Oh! Excuse me.”

“What?”

“I get a little windy when I’m nervous.  Sorry!”

“Mel!”

“I can’t help it Lynn!  We could go to jail!  Do you know what happens…

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At Nightfall

It has been another busy week in my world! I missed posting my Flash Fiction Friday piece on time, so I’m posting it as a “Sorry it’s so late Short Story Sunday” piece. Sometimes, you have to make these things work for you!

The inspiration for this piece was the picture below.  I really struggled with creating a story around the scene, but it all came together at the 11th hour! Enjoy!

At Nightfall

We belong to this place. It is our ancestral home. We returned to it to build our homes and raise our families, but they chase us away. All we want to do is live. Is that too much to ask? We want to feel safe and secure in our homes, just like they do.

Are we so different? We have old traditions. We live together – great-grandparents, grandparents, parents, children, siblings – in the same house. We share everything. If one finds food, we all share the bounty. That is the way it should be for everyone. They have their traditions, and expect us to honor them, why can’t they do the same for us? We like to eat many of the same things. Why don’t they share among themselves and with us? We don’t ask for much. We don’t mind eating what is left over. We like what they like: bread, eggs, bacon – we LOVE bacon, fruits, and vegetables. We will even clean up the kitchen after we eat.

Instead of giving coexistence a chance, the humans slaughter us without thought or reason. I’ve had many wives, many children, and lost them all to habitual extermination rituals of the People, as have many of my brothers.  So, my brothers and I have decided to evacuate, temporarily. We have moved into the nearby woods. There, we hide and plot our revenge. We do not take the slaughter of our families lightly. There is no justice for us. Their laws ignore our kind, and they don’t acknowledge us as a valuable and significant life form. We will take matters into our own hands. We decided that our absence will lead them into a false sense of security and give us time to reproduce, increase our numbers and then dominate the murderous humans. They will acknowledge our presence and power!

We have observed that they receive a visit from their fellow humans once a month. They bring plenty of food and drink. We see the headlights from their vehicles when they arrive from our hiding place in the woods. We will quietly make our way into the house. We’ve mapped out all the unprotected, unguarded openings to the home. We will strike at nightfall, after they have all fallen asleep. We will occupy the kitchen and bathrooms and only reveal ourselves in quantity to devastate the women and children, as they seem to fear us most. We’ve recruited other groups who have also been victimized by the humans to aid us in our quest for favorable coexistence. We understand the risks. We don’t want to do this by force, but they leave us no other options. There will be casualties, run in with aggressive pets the humans have trained to attack and kill us, but we will prevail! We, the Vermin and Pest Brigade will win!!

Pest

Flash Fiction Friday: Meeting a Stranger

nikewrites:

Welcome to Throwback Thursday! I hope you’ve had a wonderful week, and have fun plans lined up for the weekend! I’ll be digging into some writing this weekend. I have a bunch of stories demanding to be finished and published! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this week’s #TBT post!

 

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Originally posted on Nikewrites Blog:

I have dubbed this day: Flash Fiction Friday.  I will be sharing original Flash Fiction pieces (short stories between 300 – 500 words in length) written by myself and some of my fellow writers on Fridays.  Today’s piece is called, “Meeting a Stranger.” I hope you enjoy it!

Meeting a Stranger

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All I wanted was the truth and a piece of it was finally coming to meet me. I sat at a wooden table pretending to read an article on my tablet. The words and images were fuzzy.  I couldn’t focus. My palms were sweaty and my stomach was turning.  The smell of coffee and danishes should have relaxed me a little, but the fluttering in my stomach increased every time someone walked through the door.  Mom told me he died in a workplace accident shortly after I was born. I found out a few weeks ago why she lied…

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Crash

It was like an out-of-body experience. I saw it happening, I knew I was the one driving, I saw the police lights, and an officer on the driver’s side speaking with the occupant. I tried to stop, swerve, so I wouldn’t hit the police car, but it happened. I didn’t notice the officer standing on the passenger side of the car, next to the guard rail of the bridge until it was too late. I saw him leap out of the way, over the rail as my car made impact with the parked police car. Shit! I was going to jail. What a way to end an already crappy day. I killed a cop. They were going to give me the max. “Cop Killer” was just added to my ever-growing rap sheet.

My head was spinning. Through my alcohol and collision induced fog, I looked up as was the other officer running towards me, gun drawn and screaming for me to put my hands where he could see them. I was rummaging through my purse to find some gum or a breath mint to mask the alcohol on my breath. I’d tell he officer I was tired, worked a long shift. I could not be brought in for DUI again.

My car door opened and the officer dragged me out of my car. I screamed and flailed my arms in surprise. My hand connected with flesh. He threw me to the ground and screamed for me to stay down. Great. DUI, murder and assault of an officer. I wasn’t just going to jail, they were going to put me under the jail. I threw up. It stung my nose and made my eyes water. Everything after that was blur. There was shouting, flashing lights, officers and paramedics speaking into radios.

They asked me for my information and discovered the vehicle wasn’t mine, it wasn’t insured, and my license was suspended. My sister didn’t know I borrowed her car. She was going to kill me. Maybe jail was the safest place for me. I was definitely on my way back to rehab. I could not even begin to imagine what my sponsor was going to say to me. I was shoved into the back of a police car with my hands cuffed behind me.  Paramedics and other officers gathered by the guard rail and focussed their lights on the area below the overpass. I didn’t need to see what they were seeing. Their body language at the guard rail sobered me up. I was worried about jail time, but someone was going to have to deliver bad news to that officer’s family. I started to cry. What did I do? What did I do?

What Comes Around

nikewrites:

I’ve been using an app called Timehop for a few days. It goes into the archives of your selected social networks and pulls up pasts post. You can enjoy the trip down memory lane alone, or repost it and share it with your friends. Well, today Timehop pulled up the link to this post! The Timehop Elves are on their “A” game today! Enjoy!

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Originally posted on Nikewrites Blog:

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I was running late again.  Tardiness is never a good thing, but it’s even worse when the workplace is in an uproar. I work for Jessup & Jessup, a privately owned marketing and consulting firm in Greenville, Delaware. In addition to maintaining our normal office duties, the firm just underwent a major audit and we have just been bought by a larger firm.  Details were being closely guarded by the bosses, putting the entire office on edge.  Layoffs were sure to follow.  The official announcement of the merger was being made to public today. This was not the time to stick out like a sore thumb.

I rushed across the parking lot and into the building.  Members of the Board of Directors from both companies, and members of the media filled the small lobby. I elbowed my way through the crowd and made my way onto the elevator, clutching a…

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The Bridge to Freedom

nikewrites:

Happy Thursday! Today’s #TBT piece is about the past. There are many who say we should forget this period of history because it was ugly and is painful. It’s important to continue to tradition of passing the stories from one generation to the next.

Originally posted on Nikewrites Blog:

Grand-daddy always told us stories
Of his days as a slave and a share cropper.
To look at him,
You would never know
That he could be forced to submit
to someone who claimed ownership over him.
He was a tall, muscular man
Who walked with his shoulders back
And his head held high.
Proud.
Who could rule over him?
But it happened.
He was pulled away from his wife
And children,
Sold to another home,
Miles away from the ones his loved.
He was made to work in the fields,
In the heat,
With a sack to collect the harvest
Over his shoulder and his back bent.
He told us that the work was hard.
The overseers were harder
And would walk the lash across his back
Until his shirt was tattered,
And the flesh on his back opened up,
Leaving crimson stains
On the fabric.
He said,
“You…

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