“Lost and useless much?”
I can’t win with her. She’s here, she’s gone. She’s back, she disappears again.
“Sound familiar chica?”
Perched on my desk, she looks down at me, all nonchalant and judge-y at the same time.
“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” I mutter.
I try, I really do try, yet my Muse refuses to leave me alone which is kinda contradictory when you think about it.
I mean, she’s supposed to muse me, help me stir up my brain, give me something to write about, but no, she’d rather hang around my personal space and annoy me. Without inspiring me.
She gets more amusement out of me than I get inspiration out of her.
“Hey little missy! I’m not supposed to do anything.” She hops off my desk and starts pacing.
Shit.
I hate when she starts pacing.
“It’s not like there’s some big payoff for me chica,” she crouches in front of me and grabs me by the chin, forcing me to look at her. “You’re more like a punishment if you ask me.”
“I didn’t ask you,” I snap.
Her kaleidoscope eyes hold my big baby blues so intently I can practically see wheels turning in her head. Not good.
“Hmm, punishment….”. Her eyes glimmer and shine with something resembling excitement.
Aww hell, here we go again. I can’t help it, I pull away from her and bang my head on my keyboard. On purpose.
Her right hand flies out to grab my hair, yanking my head back.
“Youch! Knock it off, I’m not in the mood for your shit!” I attempt to escape her grip but she won’t let go.
She opens her perfect red stained mouth, her eyes flash the same shade of red and I prepare myself for the verbal onslaught to come but it doesn’t.
Instead she closes her mouth and her eyes transform into a calm waveless ocean.
She continues to stare, not saying a word.
It’s an old fashioned staring contest going on for what seems like hours. Maybe it is hours, I don’t know anything anymore but I stare back anyway.
I swear there are tiny little gears turning inside her pupils and that scares me more than her red-eyed look.
Then, the strangest thing happened.
She switched gears, pardon the pun, in a big way because, for the first time in ever, she, She, my Malevolent Muse and Mistress of my Fate showed me something I never ever imagined I’d see; a tear, a real live salty tear slipped from the corner of her eye.
I was so shocked by her display of any emotion other than anger or sarcasm which probably doesn’t fall in the emotion category anyway but still, what the hell?
Why is my Muse kinda crying?
What did I do now? Because everything is my fault it had to be something I did or didn’t do, yet still I remained stoic.
Unfeeling.
Uncaring.
Indifferent.
And yes, my default mode, frozen.
Another tear followed and if I’m going to be truthful with myself, my stoicism was beginning to crumble.
I try and hide it but when it comes down to it, I’m a crybaby. And I have a lot to cry about these days, yet I refuse to let myself fall apart. Maybe I’m afraid I’d pull a Humpty Dumpty and never be able to put myself back together again. Maybe I’m afraid if I start to cry I’ll never be able to stop.
“Chica,” she whispered her pet name for me, soft, gentle, dare I say caring?
She stopped yanking my hair and instead a soft bristle brush appeared in her hand as she gently brushed my hair, slow, soothing, a reminder of my Mom doing the same when I was a little girl.
She began to hum softly, a few words slipped out and I realized she was singing a song my Mom used to sing to me. I closed my eyes, my mind taking me back in time and it was Mom’s voice I heard, “when I was just a little girl, I asked my Mother, what would I be”.
I took a deep breath and realized I couldn’t remember the last time I let myself just breathe. I was so used to chaos in my life that, even though the other shoe had already dropped, even though my life had turned inside out, I didn’t trust, well, anything anymore.
My Muse? She came and went, in and out of my life, she delighted in torturing me, she had the same ridiculous sense of humor I had and she was convinced there was some world-saving that needed to be done and for some reason, she insisted I had a role to play in the upcoming Apocalypse.
But this was a different Muse, another facet to her many personalities I’d never seen and certainly never thought she was capable of, compassion looked good on her.
I, on the other hand, looked like hell. I was the portrait of Dorian Gray in reverse as I spent my days in my Dad’s old sweatshirt and my Mom’s old sweatpants, as if wearing their clothes would somehow bring them back to life.
As she continued to stroke my hair, “Que Sera,Sera” lyrics filled the air. I mean literally, each word she sang formed in the air, swirling around my head, wrapping around my body like an Angel’s hug, bringing me a comfort I hadn’t felt since my life fell apart when my Mom died.
I tried to keep it together but my eyes welled up, I blinked furiously, trying to keep my tears from flowing but I failed.
Like a waterfall, tear after tear fell, fast, furious, and then, without my permission, I began to sob uncontrollably.
Her arms pulled me into a hug, the kind of hug my Mom used to give me.
I broke down completely.
The world I carried on my shoulders for so very long was finally too much for me to handle, the fact that my Muse, of all people, was holding me, encouraging me to let go, to stop trying to be strong and let her carry me for awhile was something I filed away in my mind to be pulled out another time but for now? I let myself feel.
I let myself unfreeze and feel emotions I’d locked up tight and she let me.
It wouldn’t last, this I knew without a doubt, but for now, as I sobbed my broken heart out, as I soaked her clothes with my long hidden tears, for the first time in longer than I could remember, I accepted comfort. An unusual feeling for me, but it felt right, and while I knew reality would set in, things would get back to what passed for normal and the World Saving gig would rear it’s ugly head again soon, I treasured this time.
She, who delighted in driving me crazy, seemed to be the only one to get through to me, to let me be weak at a time I needed to be weak.
“Don’t get used to it Chica,” she said softly as she continued to stroke my hair. “I may have frozen time for you, but I can’t stop time forever.”
She gently held my face, forcing me to meet her gaze. “Let it out my sweet Chica, let it all go. We have a lot to do and while I admit your sadness is so loud it pierces my ears, you need to let it out because you are too full of sadness to let anything else in.”
“Cry little one, cry for everything you haven’t let yourself cry for, I need you strong for the upcoming battle.” She leaned in and kissed my forehead.
“The time grows nearer Chica, you can do this with my help, together we can win, but I need you strong. And you will be little one, this I promise you.”
My sobs grew quieter, my tears slowed a bit as a calmness began to settle over me.
My Muse continued to stroke my hair and softly sing, ” what will be, will be”.
And for once, without any inner argument, I believed her.
The minute I heard the ground begin to open up beneath me I should have bolted.
Turned tail and run like the devil was nipping at my heels, which wasn’t far from the truth.
Because I was so set on proving I was perfectly capable of being on my own I let myself get carried away by the King of Hell Himself.
Because I was young and stubborn and wanted to piss off my Mother I got myself kidnapped.
Ok, so maybe I am being a little hard on myself but do I deserve anything better?
I knew I was playing with fire, I knew Hades had his eye on me. I knew I should have listened to my Mother but I was getting tired of being sweet and innocent little Sephie. Tired of the same old thing day in and day out and never really having much fun.
I was bored with my life, bored with myself. Bored with the day to day sameness my life had become.
I wanted something different, something to shake up the norm.
I wanted an adventure.
Be careful what you wish for isn’t just a cliché because I found out the hard way it’s damn well going to come back and bite you on the ass.
Sure, it was exciting in the beginning. Isn’t it every girl’s dream to be swept off her feet in the name of love, consequences be damned?
It never occurred to me I did nothing more than exchange one prison for another.
~
I admit it, I’ve been a brat lately.
Hades isn’t too thrilled with me and neither is my Mother these days but somehow, I can’t seem to muster up the energy to care.
A lie of course, I was born to care and the real problem is I care too much about everything and everyone.
Except myself.
I’ve spent so much time trying to make everyone around me happy and content that somewhere along the line, I’ve neglected my own needs.
And now I’m miserable.
I’m driving everyone, including myself, crazy.
~
Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not whining, I get it, I understand the position I’m in is completely my fault.
I knew better than to fall for Hade’s manipulating ways. He’s a charmer when he wants something and he decided he wanted me.
I just wanted something, anything, to break up the monotony of my life and it didn’t take much for Hades to tempt me away from the light, “just for a little getaway” he told me. He even agreed to my little caveat, he’d cover for me and we’d go with the kidnapping story if I agreed to spend some time with him.
I figured I could finagle my way out of anything until I realized Hades seemed to be sincere when it came to his feelings for me.
He didn’t want to let me leave.
He was insistent I stay with him.
No amount of tears or temper tantrums moved him. He decided to back out of our agreement and play by the book. It wasn’t that I ate while I was there, it was what I ate.
Stupid pomegranate seeds became my downfall.
A deal is a deal as long as it was in his favor.
So even though I was dragged literally kicking and screaming to the altar, there was no way out.
I was married to Hades.
After a knockdown drag-out fight, also known as my Mother punching Hades repeatedly in the face until he agreed to let me spend a few months a year above ground with my family and friends, he and I settled into a somewhat comfortable rhythm. But lately, we were out of sync.
Something was going on with him and I couldn’t figure out what he was up to.
His mood swings were worse than mine and he had a temper like no other. Oh he was good at hiding it when he wanted but he had a few tells that let me know when trouble was headed my way and by the twitching of his eye I knew this false sense of security he had lulled me into was slowly turning. Problem was, I wasn’t sure which direction we were headed.
Hades can be sweet as honey, but he can also be a downright mean son of a bitch with a sadistic streak I almost admired for it’s sheer audacity.
Except when he aimed it in my direction.
He’s been treating me with kid gloves lately, yet that constant twitch near his left eye told me he was up to something.
I knew him better than anyone, his patterns were predictable and though I hate to admit it, so were mine.
He’d accuse me of something I didn’t do, I’d defend myself, he’d keep his stone cold icy glare on me while remaining silent until I couldn’t take it anymore and before I knew it I was crying my eyeballs out begging for forgiveness, then thanking him for it knowing all the while I’d done nothing wrong.
All signs were pointing in the usual direction, Hades was nearing an explosion aimed at me. I think it made him feel all manly to see me cry and beg for forgiveness.
I’m as good at hiding my emotions as he is, although he hasn’t picked up on it yet.
There’s one other thing he hasn’t noticed, I’m no longer the same Persephone I used to be.
AUTHORS NOTE: This is a work in progress I’ve been neglecting, Persephone has been nagging me to pay her some attention and she’s a force to be reckoned with…what else can I do but give in to the muse (not that Muse, but Persephone’s muse) and what better place to start than the beginning? I think…
[hides head in shame and embarrassment] FINALLY! Fiction Rally Part 4! It’s totally my fault that it’s late [prays TRG won’t throw items at me across the Atlantic Ocean]and I won’t even make excuses. In case you’re just joining in, this is part 4 of the Fiction Rally. You can read Part 3 here
http://thereclininggentleman.wordpress.com/2014/07/26/fiction-rally-part-three/#comment-6389, and because I’m so late with this, there are links to Parts 1 and 2 there as well. Without further ado:
~
Lilly looked at her watch for what seemed like the trillionth time, as if the hands would move faster just by the power of her stare.
She was used to that, getting what she wanted when she wanted went without saying. But right now, she was not getting what she wanted and she was not happy about it.
“Where the hell is he? He should have been here by now,” Lilly’s heels clicked against the marble tile of her parlor floor as she paced back and forth, talking to her empty flat. She took care not to walk over the few accent tiles her Father had agreed to have installed for her. She’d considered having the entire floor done with Pietra Firma’s most exclusive tiles but Daddy dearest hadn’t been too keen on the idea of spending well over twelve million pounds just for something to walk on. Normally, Lillith would put up a fuss and eventually get her way, but she had too much on her mind lately.
She half-smiled as she looked down at the LuxTouch tiles, beautiful black marble inlaid with mother of pearl and abalone shell, the brilliant raised diamonds forming a floral pattern.
But right now she was beginning to see them through a haze of red as she began to imagine Daniel’s blood running through the tracks on the tile, if she didn’t hear something from him soon Lilly was going to smash his head against the floor. It seemed like the right thing to do if he didn’t produce, he hated those tiles and made no bones about it. He told her she reeked of pretentiousness. He told her that after this, he was done.
Lilly decided to let him think that.
She was nowhere near done with Daniel.
And Jennifer?
Well that was a different story but Lillith’s perverted sense of humor couldn’t help but use Daniel to continue her plans with Jennifer.
“Who am I kidding?” Lilly said to the empty room, “My plans aren’t with Jennifer as much as for Jennifer. Little “Sister” may think we’re about to bond but it’s not going to be the bonding she expects.”
Pouring herself a dry martini with 4 olives, Lilly sat on her black leather sofa, admiring her reflection in the mirror across the room.
She was gorgeous and well aware of it. Her sleek blonde bob, parted slightly off-center, accented her cat-green eyes perfectly, her sharp cheekbones like subliminal arrows emphasizing their feline shape making it hard to break from her gaze. Her lips were full, kissable, the kind of lips men dreamed of kissing and women dreamed of owning. Some women paid good money for lips like this but Lilly’s were genuine.
One of the few things about her that was.
Finishing the last olive after downing her martini, Lilly got up, made another martini, this time with 5 olives, then walked over to the penthouse balcony, looking out at the Waterloo Bridge in the distance. She imagined Jennifer on The London Eye, stuck on top then plummeting to her death, just another piece of trash on the street, out of her life, out of Daddy dearest’s will, out of Lillith’s hair.
She took another sip of her martini, pulling an olive into her mouth and rolling it around her tongue before biting down on it.
“Where the fuck is Daniel?” Lilly walked back into her penthouse, her mood getting worse by the minute.
If he wasn’t so good in bed she would have gotten rid of him a long time ago.
He hated sleeping with her.
She knew it yet it gave her a sense of perverted pleasure knowing he had no choice in the matter. He owed her. He owed her big time, and even though they’d been lovers it hadn’t lasted long.
Daniel wasn’t like most men, he wasn’t easily controlled and while his body reacted to hers, he told her in no uncertain terms that he wanted nothing to do with her and her world. Lilly didn’t appreciate his brutal honesty and when she found out he’d gotten on the wrong side of the wrong people she decided to step in, pay off his debt and have him beholden to her.
Truth be told, Daniel wasn’t even Lilly’s type, she just wanted to fuck with him for having the audacity to turn her down. He was handsome enough, in a rugged way, but he was nothing, no one. He couldn’t do anything to further Lilly’s lot in life, perfect as it may be.
Lillith was her Father’s Daughter. Cold, calculating, and with a desire to rule the world, at least, the parts within her reach.
Jennifer, on the other hand, didn’t seem to inherent any of Daddy dearest’s qualities. Jennifer was more like her sniveling Mother, another one of Father’s castoffs, weak and pathetic.
Admittedly, Lilly had only met Jennifer once, when they were in their early teens. And that was at their late Grandfather’s funeral. Lilly never understood why they even bothered to show up. Daddy was 3 wives past Jennifer’s Mother, none of his other ex-wives showed up. Lillith was sure they were sniffing around for money but they just paid their respects and quietly left.
Glancing at her watch again, Lilly felt herself wanting to frown at Daniel’s lateness but didn’t want to have to suffer the effects of frown lines over Daniel. Or Jennifer.
Lilly had been planning this little game for weeks, ever since she found a picture of Jennifer in Daddy’s desk, along with a few letters, a little too friendly in tone for Lilly’s liking.
Things had been set in motion weeks ago, all Daniel had to do was make the drop and get his ass back here.
He thought he was getting his last payment, and he was getting his payment.
It just wasn’t going to be his last one.
* this is what the tile looks like, they say they were made so you should walk barefoot to get the “full experience”..,i think it would kinda hurt but that’s just me…
Finally, my lovelies, as mentioned before, after much begging and whining on my part The Reclining Gentleman
http://thereclininggentleman.wordpress.com
has been gracious enough to write another version of the Fiction Relay, but this time it’s called the Fiction Rally and it’s just TRG and this girl here writing what will be, well, actually we have no idea what it’ll be, but that’s half the fun. So after going here for Part 1,
please, enjoy, Part 2 of the Fiction Rally. Where this will go? C’mon along for the ride, we’ll find out together!
~
Hidden behind a copy of a newspaper someone else had left behind, Daniel patiently waited for the train to enter the darkness of the tunnel.
Thankfully she stepped into the carriage alone, no other passengers to get in his way, no foreseeable obstacles, this should be easy peasy, just the way he liked it.
To the casual observer he appeared to be absorbed in the newspaper he held in front of his face, as if he didn’t notice anyone else boarding the train, but he was aware of every movement she made.
Daniel had gotten rather good at observing everything around him while remaining unnoticed. Another little trick he’s picked up on the road, his ability to blend in had saved his own neck on more than one occasion.
It wasn’t long before he noticed the chugging of the train had lulled her to sleep, a deviation from her normal routine he intended to take full advantage of.
Danny took it as a sign, now or never, it was time to earn his paycheck.
He’d been riding this route for weeks now, memorizing the stops, timing the length of total darkness as the train made it’s way through the tunnel, working out every possible variable he could imagine so he’d be ready for anything.
It was simple really. All he had to do was drop off the sealed envelope into her bag and get out of there.
That was it.
Once he was done, he was done.
For real this time. Not only would his debt be paid off but he’d have enough money left over to get out of this place and leave his run of bad luck behind him.
Hell, if he played his cards right he might be able to get out of the bloody country, he needed to leave the past where it belonged and move on. Daniel would have laughed out loud if he was alone, playing cards is what got him in this particular position in the first place. But this was it. This would be his last “errand” to pay off his tab and then he’d be free of the whole lot of them.
As the train entered the tunnel he stood up quietly, hoping the swaying of the cars would keep her sleeping. After the last botched job, Daniel wanted to be sure there was no blood on his hands with this one.
~
Never much of a napper, Jennifer rarely fell asleep riding a train. She was more inclined to stare out at the scenery as it flew by, sipping on a cup of caffeine as she planned out her day. Then again, this wasn’t her usual day. In fact, things hadn’t been “usual” at all these last few weeks and she hadn’t been sleeping well on top of everything else. When she did manage to sleep for any length of time her dreams were always dark and muddled. She’d wake up shaking, covered in sweat, a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.
Her dreams always began differently but they all ended the same way, Jennifer crouched on an unfamiliar floor in an unfamiliar room cradling the body of someone dying. She never saw who it was dying in her arms, but every time without fail she, Jennifer, was crying and shouting for help in her dreams until she inevitably woke herself up, heart racing, eyes swollen from crying in her sleep.
It was enough to put anyone off sleeping but unfortunately the body needed it’s rest, and between the emotional roller-coaster she’d been on and the motion of the train, Jennifer was exhausted. Inevitably, her eyes closed and she began to doze off.
~
Daniel took small measured steps as he inched closer to his target. The last thing he needed was for her to wake up and catch him messing with her belongings. Truth was, he had no idea what was in the envelope nor did he want to know. All he wanted was to be free of the bullshit hanging over his head. He’d taken on some pretty undesirable tasks in an attempt to get out of the sticky situations he too frequently found himself in, but this was the last of it.
A slip of an envelope into a stranger’s bag and he was on his way to another life.
He’d been keeping tabs on her for weeks as per instructions.
Getting to know her routine was easy with the packet of information he’d been sent, she rarely strayed from it, she seemed to be a creature of habit.
But Daniel was waiting to catch her alone and there always seemed to be someone near her.
Time was running out for him, he was beginning to worry, imagining he’d have to stumble near her in a crowd and slip the envelope into one of her bags.
Until today, when she deviated from her normal routine.
This was the first time he’d seen her take an afternoon train and somebody up there must have been looking out for him because this was also the first time he’d been alone in the same car as her.
His hands were shaking as he realized her bag was slightly open, just enough to make the drop without having to touch her belongings although he did make sure to slip on a pair of gloves just in case.
Whatever was in the envelope, Danny didn’t know if it was legal, illegal, or, for all he knew, it could have been something as simple as a love letter. It didn’t matter to him, all he cared about was the payoff and a plane ticket out of this place.
She thinks I don’t see her lurking behind me.
Dressed in my favorite black leathers she clings to the ceiling like a black widow spider but she’s much more lethal. I can see her reflection in my computer screen but I choose to ignore her rather than acknowledge her presence.
I know it drives her crazy when I ignore her but sometimes, when it comes to my Muse, ignorance is bliss.
She always knows what I’m thinking but I can’t read her, not the way she can read me.
She’s unpredictable and capable of anything. Me? I’m predictably capable of disappointing her. Which isn’t really the best way to endear one’s self to one’s Muse.
Seems I’ve been disappointing everybody lately.
What sucks the most is that I know I’m all fucked up in the head these days, I know I’m in robot mode but I can’t shake it off. I need a Moonstruck Moment.
“Snap out of it!”
Fuck.
“Get out of my head and stop slapping me in the face! Damn that hurt!” My right cheek is burning from her hard crack across my face and my left one joins in with an embarrassed rage for letting her catch me unaware, even when I knew she was there.
“Somebody had to do it chica, this Debbie Downer mood is getting old.” She shoved me back into my chair and stared at me, expressionless.
Did I mention she’d yanked me to my feet before she slapped me in the face?
“Why do you have to be all hurty with me? You’re my Muse, why can’t you be nice like the Good Witch in The Wizard Of Oz and wave a wand or something…” my voice trailed off as her face went from angry to angrier. I did not want to see angriest.
“Ok, obviously I fucked up again. Let’s start this over, yeah?
“Witch? You compare me to a Good Witch?”
Shit. This is the part where things go south and I am so not in the mood.
She continued to stare at me for what seemed like hours but in reality was barely a second. Something synched. There was a shift in my brain, I don’t know how else to describe it.
I was staring into her eyes but I was seeing me staring out of her eyes. That makes no sense but I don’t know how else to say it.
I saw me and I wanted to slap my own self in the face.
Breaking eye contact wasn’t easy but I did and I was pissed.
Pissed at me, pissed at her, pissed at every single person I knew, every one who “loved me” and that list continued to grow shorter and shorter, just generally pissed. Angry. Mad. Furious.
Because it was all my fault.
Her head tilted the way it does when she’s curious.
“Why do you blame yourself chica? And for what reason?”
“And why can’t you let me wallow in guilt?” I mumble, knowing she hears me anyway.
Then she did something she never did once, ever.
She stood me up and hugged me. Just like that. My crazy dominatrix of a Muse, who loved nothing better than to drive me crazy instead of inspiring me to write, hugged me.
For a minute I let myself accept it.
Minute over. I pulled away.
“What do you want now?” I walk to the other side of the room and cross my arms as I lean back against the counter.
She laughed.
“You’re learning chica, you’re learning.” She slunk her way over to me, planting one arm on either side of me.
Her breath was a blend of flowery deceit, but she was all I had, I didn’t get to pick my Muse.
“And I didn’t get to pick you chica, but we’re stuck together for now.” She leaned in closer, her mouth next to my ear, “Whatever your problem is, and we both know what it is, get your act together chica, the next time I show up, you better be ready to get back in the game. Things are heating up and you for some unknown reason, are needed. Sooner we get this done the sooner we can break this bond.”
She disappeared, as usual, in a puff of smoke.
Huh. I didn’t know there was a way out of this, that I could get rid of this crazy Muse and get back to normal, whatever that might be.
Well, I always do work best under pressure.
AUTHORS NOTE: oddly, the authors note I just wrote disappeared, I think it was my Muse, I swear I didn’t say anything bad about her, she just likes to mess with me, she says it keeps me on my toes to which I say I took tap lessons thank you very much, I don’t do ballet…anyway, what I meant to say is, my Muse is off fighting the Djinn War without me for reasons I can’t divulge yet, but she does come to check in on me from time to time… she just left, maybe I wasn’t supposed to mention she was here but hey, it’s my blog, she can get her own. Stay tuned for the continuing adventures of me and my Muse, as Karen Carpenter sang, we’ve only just begun…
to be continued…
It was mostly my own fault.
Maybe I should take all the blame but when I think about it, and believe me, it’s all I think about lately, I was seduced.
Seduced by the idea of something new.
Something different than the same thing day in and day out.
Sure my life was a beautiful day after day. Always surrounded by nature, the warmth of the sun on my face as I’d stroll lazy through the fields of colorful flowers. Admiring the fruits of my Mother’s labor never failed to comfort me. Look up the definition of “green thumb” in an encyclopedia and there’s a good chance you’ll see her picture instead of a wordy definition.
I, on the other hand, have what I like to call a “black thumb”. I can’t even grow a weed never mind breathtakingly beautiful fields of flowers like she can.
It’s not like I haven’t tried. Since I was a tiny little girl barely able to walk on my own I’d cling to her, follow her everywhere hoping to be just like her when I grew up. Gardening, for lack of a better word, comes as easy to my Mother as breathing, naturally I expected to follow in her footsteps, make her proud of me. Create something beautiful.
Actually that’s what was on my mind that day. I was giving myself a mental scolding after another unsuccessful attempt at growing something. I’ll never be like her, she could wave her hand and just like that, the most perfect roses in a shade of red unlike no other would appear.
Breathtaking.
Me? I could barely walk through the woods without tripping over an unseen tree root.
I was not the daughter my Mother deserved.
My thoughts grew darker as I walked through a field of forget-me-nots, coincidently one of my favorite flowers, so engrossed in the pity party going on in my head I stopped paying attention to my surroundings.
And just my luck, that’s when Hades appeared and stole me away.
~
To say it’s complicated doesn’t come close to describing my relationship with Hades.
I know all the stories out there; abduction, rape, trickery and deceit. Hades gets a kick out of them, it adds to his reputation, he says. I say it all depends on the way you look at it.
My Mother insists it’s just a stage I’m going through, that every girl goes through a Bad Boy phase and eventually I’ll grow weary of the Underworld. She said if Hades loves me as much as he says he does he’d let me go for more than a few months a year to make me happy.
But that, me being happy, was the whole problem.
Because no matter what I did, someone would be hurt. The thing is, I like it down here in the Underworld. And I wasn’t a girl any more, I was a woman.
Besides, what’s not to like? Down here I’m treated like a Queen. Hades showers me with anything I desire. He even got me a kitten knowing he’s allergic to them. Just because he rules Hell doesn’t mean he doesn’t have allergies too.
See what I mean? Just like my Mother says, I’m always making excuses for Hades.
The problem is I’m torn.
I’m a Mama’s girl in love with every Mother’s nightmare.
I’m also a people pleaser and that’s why it’s mostly all my fault.
I knew what I was doing when I ate those pomegranate seeds. I knew I was going to have to split my time between two different places, two different lives.
What I didn’t know was that the walls of both places were going to start closing in on me.
There was only one thing I could do, my Mother had sent Thelxiepeia and her Siren sisters to find me and Thellie had been the only one to find me. She was also the only one who knew my secrets.
It was time for me to call Thellie.
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/a-tale-of-two-cities
AUTHORS NOTE~ this is my response to prompt ‘a tale of two cities’, I couldn’t stop thinking about Persephone and her living in two different places hence my response…although I have a Persephone series/WIP, this is a stand-alone story but does not contradict anything else I’ve previously written.
And that was the first time I saw my Mother punch my boyfriend in the face.
Let’s put it in reverse and start from the beginning, shall we?
It started out innocently enough. Sometimes, Lori and Mark and Bobby and I did what passed for entertainment in Sayreville back in the day, we drove around town with a six-pack or two blasting really cool, mostly obscure music also known as Punk Rock and it’s roots. The New York Dolls, Alice Cooper, Silverhead, Mott The Hoople, The Stooges, The Sweet to name a few, as well as Ramones, Dead Boys, Buzzcocks, Sex Pistols, Heartbreakers, you know, all the good stuff.
There wasn’t much to do around town, the drinking age had just been raised (I was grandfathered in so I was able to drink at 18) but there wasn’t a rock scene to speak of much closer than New York City.
I have no idea who came up with the harebrained scheme but it wasn’t me. I think.
One minute Lori was dropping us off one at a time at our respective houses, next thing I know she and I were back in her little Volkswagen sneakily on our way to CBGB’s.
Without our boyfriends.
Well, it’s not like any of us were engaged or anything.
It was a Friday night, but there wasn’t anything big going on at CBGB’s that night band-wise. There weren’t a lot of people there but the ones who were there were the crème de la crème, at least in my big blue eyes.
I remember sauntering in, Merv in his yellow hardhat near the door giving us the nod that meant ‘walk right in and sit yourself down’ as Lori and I walked in, looking for an empty seat at the bar. I figured we should go say hi to Cosmo but it wasn’t to be.
That’s about the time I felt a leather-clad arm wrap around my waist and pull me in, planting a kiss on me while ruffling my hair.
It was him.
I mean THE Him, as in Steve, the man/boy I lost my virginity to.
Yeah, I know, everyone called him Stiv but his name was Steve and he was the lead singer for my favorite band, The Dead Boys.
*Sorry Mama, I can’t censure myself, and besides, it’s not like it’s a big secret! Besides also, remember, you went out with musicians before you got married too, so apples and trees.*
I guess it was Rock Star Night because Cheetah Chrome and some of the rest of the Dead Boys were there, as well as Joey Ramone, a bunch of roadies and other bands but the truth is all I knew was Stiv pulled me on his lap and talked me into sipping his Margareta (I hate tequila!) and my mind went blank. In my defense I was only 18 with a history of nearly zero boyfriends… yes I know, Bobby, but we were dating, we weren’t exclusive yet (um, I think).
I was young, innocent, inexperienced, infatuated, and my Rock Idol was asking me to come back to The Diplomat Hotel with him and a few of his friends for a bit.
Lori, in the meantime, had managed to hook up with Joey Ramone in her tiny little Volkswagen. I was on my own for awhile anyway so away we went.
One of the best parts was sitting in the back seat of Stiv’s friend’s car singing along to Staying Alive by the Bee Gees. Well that and his hand on my leg, but I digress.
We hung out for awhile as they all snorted coke and I said “no thank you” then went back to CB’s within in hour.
Lori was gone.
She left me in New York alone.
She left me in New York alone and we were on a sneaky mission!!!
I was so dead.
~
I guess I have to weigh the good against the bad, so the good outweighs the bad, at least in my memory.
Imagine, you’re 18 years old and the Rock Star you lost you virginity to a few months ago hails a cab and brings you back to his room at The Diplomat Hotel to sleep over and take a train home the next morning. Imagine lying next to him while he plays Iggy Pop’s Kill City over and over, you know, the one with the song “Johanna” (which my Mother really wanted to name me), imagine him saying all the right things, recognizing and acknowledging my innocence, talking and treating me gently and sweetly (at least that time and I really am going to Hell aren’t I?), as he continued to do for years. But again, I digress.
I don’t know why I didn’t think of it, but I should have known.
After sitting with Stiv making phone calls (no cell phones back then kiddies) to make sure someone could pick me up at the bus station I hopped in a cab, got on a bus where I proceeded to tell a complete stranger my entire night and finally, there was my friend and savior, JB (RIP), waiting to pick me up.
He dropped me off in front of my house and like a scene from an Afternoon School Special about abusive boyfriends, Bobby’s car came flying down the street and I mean flying. He slammed on his brakes and sprang out of his car, hand around my upper arm pulling me into his car, screaming at me incoherently.
That’s when it happened.
My Mother, the one I’d lied to by telling her I was sleeping over a girlfriend’s house, flew out of the house, grabbed my other arm yanking me away from Bobby and then she let loose with an Irish Temper fueled punch right to his face.
I’m not talking ethics or morals or who was right or wrong, but let me tell you, it’s kinda awesome to see your Mom punch somebody in the face on your behalf when they deserve it. And Bobby deserved it, as you’ll find out…to be continued…
AUTHORS NOTE: I wrote this bit for the daily prompt, but in all honesty, I’ve got a WIP going on offline, non-fiction, because you know me, it’s all about me, me, me! Right? (be careful how you answer that) Point is, I guess this is kinda a first draft of something I have up my sleeve because after all, they say write what you know and what do I know better than my past? Especially since it really was pretty awesome!
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/07/daily-prompt-lets-go-crazy/
Sometimes, we act on impulse: it could be something as small as ordering that special dessert on the menu, maybe asking out that cute boy or girl, or as large quitting your job and selling everything you own to become a shepherd in New Zealand. What’s the most crazy, outrageously impulsive thing you’ve ever done? If you’ve never succumbed to temptation, dream a little. If you gave yourself permission to go a little crazy, what would you do?
Photographers, artists, poets: show us IMPULSE.
AUTHORS NOTE: Lizzie is kinda pissed James didn’t mention he had a twin brother…ooops
“Huh? What are you talking about? What do you mean you haven’t heard from James?”
“Sweetheart I’d be glad to answer all your questions but do you think you can ease up a bit with the knife?”
He looked so much like his brother I was finding it hard to tear my eyes away from his face.
“I’ve already been circumcised luv but I’d be happy to show you if you don’t believe me.” His James-blue eyes were filled with laughter which did nothing but piss me off more than I already was.
“You’re disgusting,” I hissed as I punched him in the face one more time, only not as hard as I did before. His stupid James-face was making the punching part less fun than it should have been.
Then I remembered the way he imitated James before and I wanted to stake him. But I punched him again instead.
“What the fuck was that all about before? Why the asshole act?”
My ego was still stinging from his insulting behavior before. I was also more than a little pissed off at James for neglecting to mention his brother was not only a vampire but his identical twin. My life was a bad soap opera.
“We can stay like this as long as you want luv, happy to be on the bottom but if you keep wiggling around like that don’t blame me if I flip you over and- owww!”
I was so infuriated I forgot I was straddling him and it was becoming apparent that he and James were identical, at least physically.
“Stop being a pig and what do you mean you don’t know where James is? And,” I waved my knife in the general direction of his James-face enjoying his barely discernible discomfort. “Don’t think you’re gonna get away with that little scene before either.”
“I-” he began.
“Shut up. Where is your brother?”
“You-”
“Don’t “you” me!”
I could hear myself making no sense and screeching like a harpy.
Still sitting on top of what looked like James, who always made me melt.
I punched him again.
~
There’s nothing I hate more than stereotypical bullshit and there I was, a walking talking cliché.
Make that a straddling cat-got-my-tongue cliché.
He wasn’t helping by finding this funny.
“What are you laughing at?” I try to sneer but can’t quite pull it off. He is as exasperating as James can be, and I was beginning to see the resemblance might be more than physical.
I gave myself a mental mind shake and pushed off of him, it was becoming evident that he was enjoying me pinning him down a little more than he should have been.
“You’re an asshole,” I said matter of factly.
He was chuckling as he stood up. Brushing off his jeans he stood next to me, James-height and all.
“Sweetheart, the look on your face was priceless.”
The more he laughed the more I fumed.
“Oh shut up,” I shoved him and he tried to hide his smirk.
“What the fuck is going on and where’s your brother? I mean your twin brother! He is so dead!” I hate when I yell. “You’re dead too!” I poke him in the chest for emphasis. It’s just as toned as James- argh what was I thinking?
“We already are luv, you know, undead and all that,” he taps his head as if to infer I’m an idiot.
“You sure are a feisty little thing Elizabeth, James neglected to mention that,” he frowned.
When did James mention me? They were barely on speaking terms far as I knew.
“What’s your name anyway? James ‘neglected to mention that’ to me,” I snapped.
I was embarrassed, pissed off and I had to pee.
“You know what? I don’t even care what your name is right now. I’m sick of the lot of you… James is always disappearing and being all mysterious and you! You’re a dick and don’t fucking laugh at me and fuck you I’m going home.”
“Liam,” he called after my retreating form. “My name is Liam, and I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
Liam.
I started laughing, hard. I couldn’t stop. You know that laugh you get at inappropriate times and you can’t stop no matter what? It was that.
I was doubled over holding my stomach, laughing at the ridiculously stupid that is my unlife.
“What? It’s short for William,” his voice was part confusion, part soothing as if he was dealing with a crazy person.
That made me laugh harder and Liam looked like he was about to bolt and I snapped out of it.
I cleared my throat as if I was having a coughing fit and wondered when my life turned into an episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer.
to be continued…
Ah, here we are, with our latest installment of The Fiction Relay, details about which you can find here http://thereclininggentleman.wordpress.com/2012/10/23/fiction-relay-homepage/ , and/or the Summary of this fascinating tale can be found here http://thereclininggentleman.wordpress.com/2013/01/01/fiction-relay-summary/ the following is my humble contribution, and to find out who’s up for the next chapter, you have to scroll to the bottom of the page so you may as well read it while you’re scrolling anyway….so please, enjoy.
******
Two red glowing eyes were laser-focused on Melissa sleeping the sleep of the damaged.
After the visions first played out in her head, she couldn’t fall asleep. Her mind was trying to process everything that had been revealed to her, trying to decide what her next move would be.
She continued to focus on the wooden coyote with the strange piercing eyes until she eventually drifted off.
As she tossed and turned, mumbled words in an ancient language slipped from her lips and that piercing red glare intensified.
Raj was not happy.
Melissa had betrayed him in more ways than one.
Although there was a little piece of his remaining mind that was almost impressed with the depth of her anger, it didn’t come close to the rage inside Raj.
She had killed him once back in the cave then left him for dead again by leaving him imprisoned in this cookie-cutter cheap motel room.
Raj had allowed her to believe he was as dead as she intended him to be, but he was far from finished with her.
Raj and rage were never far apart when he was alive, the stolen power Melissa used to reanimate him had done a better job than she could possibly imagine, at least as far as his mind was concerned, and now the only thing in his reanimated brain was rage intensified.
His body, on the other hand, was a rotted mess.
Melissa had literally stabbed him in the back, repeatedly plunging her blade into his body long after Meagan teleported away from him. His back resembled an old leather sofa shredded after years of being used as a cat’s scratching post.
He would get his revenge on Melissa, on all of them somehow, but for now Raj remained trapped inside his own unmoving body, slumped and tied to an uncomfortable cheap motel chair while she continued to sleep.
The strange wooden carved coyote was set on the bed table beside her sleeping body, quiet.
Raj rested his gaze on the carving, his own rage-filled eyes locked on the inhuman eyes of the mystical totem. The visions that had slammed over Melissa eased soft and slow into Raj’s mind, filling in the blanks between his rage, leaving Raj full of ice cold fury and a strong desire to make his way to the ice caves revealed in the totem’s visions.
His inability to seek out the icy underground cavern served only to increase his anger and while patience had never been one of his strong points when he was alive, Raj’s death at the hands of that traitorous bitch Melissa left him with a strong desire to do some major damage.
Let her sleep the sleep of the dead, thought Raj, she wasn’t long for this world, not if Raj had any say over the matter.
~
Blue was on a mission.
She had a Mother to find. The hell with her so-called Father, he could fend for himself as far as Blue was concerned.
Blue instantly felt the exact moment her Mother left the Club. As tough of a front as Blue kept up, sometimes she couldn’t hide her worry about her Mom from Spence.
He knew Blue well enough to let her go alone as she wanted.
She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself and she was determined to get to her Mother.
And they could always and without fail get into each other’s head anytime, anywhere. Besides, Spencer had a few more irons in the fire than even Blue was unaware of.
He had a few things to take care of, a few things which, well, the less Blue knew, the better.
At times, Blue’s own memories would get patchy and tangled, fading in and out sporadically, but there was one thread that was woven through every single thought she had as far back as she could remember; her biological Father abandoned her and her Mother before Blue was even born.
She imagined he must have taken off the minute he found out her Mom was pregnant, and although no one ever told her that, deep down, this is what Blue carried with her each and every day of her life.
She’d hopped on her bike as soon as Spence admitted he’d already had her motorcycle brought back from the Jack-Ass Coffee bar.
A flash of that waiter’s face transforming earlier, all fangs and claws, eyes spitting fire as he scrambled after her in the bar sent a chill down her spine.
She increased her speed as if she could outrun the memories she wished she could forget and catch up to the memories that eluded her.
Part of her wanted to pay a quick little visit to Tyrone to have a few words of the non-verbal kind with him, let her fists do the talking, but the pull of Meagan, the Mother she wanted so badly, was becoming stronger the further on she drove.
There was something else though, something nearby that felt as if it was tugging at her. It began to feel as if her motorcycle was driving her instead of her driving it.
There was a scent in the air. Putrid. Rotting. Like driving by the city dump on a hot summer day, the air was heavy with the stench.
Blue knew the odor was undetected by the normal human nose but Blue didn’t have the normal human nose, if she let herself, she could differentiate and track each and every separate smell in the air.
Just one of the many powers she had, it was something she could turn on and off at will.
But as she flew down the deserted back roads, as she slammed into the nearly tangible smell of Evil with a capital E, Blue’s heart began to pound nearly out of her chest.
There was something frighteningly powerful and ancient, dark and evil mixed amongst the mélange of stink, but that wasn’t the cause of Blue’s sudden dread.
Her Mother was there.
Wherever there was, whatever the ever-strengthening stench was pulling her toward, Blue could feel her, smell her essence mixed amongst the quickly approaching dire.
If Blue’s instincts were right, and they usually were, something big was about to go down.
If Blue’s instincts were right, sometime in the very near future, things were about to go from bad to worse.
to be continued, as the baton passes to http://kyotzeta.wordpress.com/2013/08/30/three-2/#comment-1891
AUTHORS NOTE:Puppet shows can be scary on a good day. Catt’s not having a good day.
The red curtain rises to reveal a torturous scene in the form of an old fashioned puppet show.
“Genie! What’s going on? What did you do?”
My voice trembles along with my body at the scene playing out in front of my confused eyes.
Puppet shows scare the hell out of me on a good day, I am not having a good day.
And this is no ordinary puppet show.
This was more like a cross between an entire season of the goriest episodes of The Walking Dead mashed together with every Big Bad that tried to take down Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Add some Epic Battles of Biblical Proportion along with the unfortunate fact that I’m no Slayer and I’m in a world of trouble.
Or possibly insane.
I unconsciously reach my hand out as if I can stop the bloody slaughter and maniacal mayhem playing out in front of my petrified eyes from the inside of this insane asylum I’m stuck in.
Genie, who might be a member of the Multiple Personality Club I seem to find myself surrounded by lately apparently has other plans for me.
One of his beefy hands grabs my arm, yanking me away from the multitude of scenes playing out in front of my eyes in holograph form.
My skin begins to sizzle and burn wherever his rough skin touches mine.
Microscopic blisters form on my arm, first letters, then words, a message maybe but unfortunately I don’t understand Sanskrit. I also don’t know how I know it’s Sanskrit, I just do. Maybe I’m picking it up through osmosis from Genie.
“Bad Kitty,” he growls at me, “you know better than to call me ‘Genie”!”
He tugs an invisible leash around my neck yanking me hard against him. His flesh is icy heat against mine, my skin bubbles at each point of contact.
“What the fuck else can I call you? You won’t tell me your fucking name!”
I look up at him refusing to flinch at the pinwheels of color spinning in his eyes. Tiny flames flare, threatening to spill out of his eyes and burn me alive.
Salty beads of sweat drip down my forehead, clinging to my hair before dripping into my eyes, stinging.
I blink them away, refusing to tear my eyes away from his.
I can feel him inside me, probing my mind.
“Not much in there,” he sniffs my hair then pushes me away, finding me lacking.
“Yet.” I hear him murmur.
“You have balls Catt, I gotta give you that.” His voice is less menacing, with a hint of admiration in in. I can’t get a handle on him.
He’s moodier than I am during a Full Moon.
I notice the temperature has been rising, it’s so damn hot in here I’m finding it hard to breathe.
“Look toots, suck it up. Watch and learn.”
He places his huge hand on my head, claws slipping out of his fingers drawing blood as he forces my face toward the horror before me.
~
Hard as I try I can’t tear my eyes away from the insanity I’m watching. I think the thick sharp claws puncturing my flesh to hold my head in place might have something to do with that.
Spinning holograms of torture and blood and gore and battles and scary nightmarish creatures.
“Ge- umping Jesus! Do something!”
I catch myself in the nick of time, note to self, no Genie calling allowed.
Mr. Don’t Call Me Genie catches my slip but lets me slide.
“Why?” He sounds genuinely curious.
“I don’t know, because people are being slaughtered? What do you mean ‘why’? I thought you were on my side!”
“Your side?” His laugh rumbles long and loud enough to send the holograms of horror spin like, uh, spinning things.
“Oh Pussycat, you are a piece of work,” except each word came out between bouts of hysterical giggles.
At least his amusement got him to remove his claws from my face. Though the salty beads of sweat pouring down my face are stinging the hell out of the bloody gashes he left behind.
“Dollface, the only side I’m on is my own,” he chuckles.
“Now sit your cute little ass back down and have a Snickers already. You know you want to.”
His wild eyebrows wiggle up and down suggestively.
“No Snickers!”
My outburst is met with silence.
Followed by pouting.
You have got to be kidding me, he actually folds his arms across his chest and pouts like a spoiled child.
“You aren’t being very much fun Kitty Catt,” his voice is a petulant growl.
“I am too fun!”
Oh no, I feel a babble coming on.
“I’m all kinds of fun! I’m a fun-a-thon! A fundae with a side of fun sauce! I’m funatically fun! Funtastically fun!
Silence.
But I see the merest hint of a grin so I try to steer the conversation back to the twirling holograms.
And the rest of it.
I wipe away a trail of blood from my cheek hoping to elicit some sympathy and let out an intentionally loud sigh.
“Please,” I figure it can’t hurt to start out begging.
“Asmodeus, the ring, the bottles, all of it. What’s the connection and what’s with the hologram puppet show? You were about to tell me when she popped in, remember?”
I wave my hand in the direction of my frozen in place Muse.
Why am I sweating profusely while she’s ice cold solid?
“Toots you have more immediate problems than Asmodeus and the ring right now. She’s about to unthaw and Kitt Catt, she’s gonna be uber pissed.”
I turn to look at her and her furious eyes are focused on me.
What started as a few drops of melting ice begins to turn into tiny cracks in her form fitting ice prison.
And they are growing rapidly.
.
to be continued…
joannebest 
