Of Writing, Gadgets, The Beginning of The End, and other Cool Stories

Tonight, I’m putting this up for you guys that didn’t read it when it featured on Andy’s Blog It’s a bit old, so forgive me. Not really in the mood to write tonight.

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First off, I’m a writer. Yes! A pretty amazing one at that (I’ve been told). Every time someone goes “My goodness, you write so well!” (Or something like that) I blush for at least 2 minutes before filing the memory away in one cabinet or the other because, sadly, my mind is as organised as catastrophe. So, yeah. I’m an awesome writer. My dust-covered blogs can attest to that. Yes, blogS. I have two. Started one early last year because I missed the joy of writing. I stopped writing in secondary school because teachers kept trying to enter me in competitions and stuff and I was “Na mhen.”, so I figured a blog would help me get back to what I love(d?) doing. Everything was going all fine and peachy, and then *insert car crash sound effect of your choice*.

I’m not going to say I was going through mid-life crisis before someone will email me a slap. But I went through hell. For a while, it didn’t seem like I was passing through. More like I’d stupidly decided to go there on vacation and chillax. Anyhu, I pulled through (yay!) but my blog suffered. I thought I’d lost the passion for writing. Overwhelmed with helplessness, I did what every blogger does when face with that dreadful block. I embarked on the 30 Day Blog Challenge. Don’t worry. I didn’t finish. I just panicked and opened another blog. And now, here I am again.

See, the second blog was supposed to be strictly fiction. The idea came to me in a trance, and I’d written out the forst ten chapters in a flurry. Typed it all out on my phone like a bawsette. So, I opened the blog and started putting the chapters up week after week. And then my phone got stolen. I won’t even tell you how it happened. All you need to know is I went into a kind of shock for about three days until I got a new phone. And now, I’m struggling with my new blog as well (feel free to pity me).

The whole stolen phone ordeal almost destroyed me. You see, the criminals didn’t just steal my phone. They cleared out all the gadgets in the house. Two laptops, a tablet, and about five phones. Don’t you wonder what it is that would make a person want to steal someone else’s gadgets? What is it? Me, I’m not techno savvy at all, so I’ve never really gotten it. Sure, I like pretty stuff. I got my first blackberry simply because it was blue. I’ve once bought a laptop because it was pink and could fit in my handbag. When I’m out shopping for phones and stuff, I’m not thinking *insert whatever serious tech people think here*. I walk into a store and price all the cute things I see until I can afford one. So, yeah. I like cute stuff. But I wouldn’t go out of my way to steal one.

Except if maybe I got really drunk and was dared. Then I’d probably maybe do it. Maybe. I have a massive keloid on my left ear and a budding one on my right because of a stupid dare, so yeah. Who knows? But I quit drinking. I did. I’m now strictly a social drinker. I knew I was finished when a friend saw me and said “Coco, no drink today?”. I sat down and thought about my life for a full five seconds. It was then I decided to turn my life around. So, yay! No more booze. I encourage you to quit too. Alcohol is bad, you know? Trust me. You don’t want have to have to wake up on a tree branch one morning and have to put the fragments of memories from the night before together while you walk home alone in nothing but an oversized shirt and boxers.

But do you know what’s more painful than an inexplicable bruised rib after a night out you can’t remember? Owning a HTC HD7 for about five seconds before it’s snatched out of your hands while you stand there, mouth agape, eyes shining brighter than halogen bulbs, and helpless. I may not be all lovey dovey with tech stuff, but it was a new phone, and it was gift from someone really close to me, and it can pain. It’s even more painful when you carry that anger and buy expensive shoes for your baby only to get home and realise they aren’t her size.

Sha, we can only thank God for small joys. Like your daughter waking up in the middle of the night (after hogging half the bed and pushing you into a corner) and seeking out your chest to rest her head. Or that really adorable voice note a friend sends you that just makes you smile. Or spending an amzing day with people who really care about you. Or that one person that stays up late with you until you feel better. Or Ribena. Or maltesers. Or chocolate cake. Cake… Yup. For me, it’s the minute things people hardly notice that give me joy. That and attention. Lots of it. But that’s all for another day.

Peace, Love, & Ribena (‾⌣‾)♉

CAUSE & EFFECT: BOREDOM

We’ve all been bored. While some very rarely experience the phenomenon known as boredom, there are those who hold high-ranking political positions in the kingdom of the bored. Unfortunately, I wandered into this kingdom a while back. I’ve been trying my very possible best to escape, but everything I tried came to nought.

Not too long ago, I found myself being registered as a citizen and I just received my passport about a week ago. I’m planning to have a party. Make a whole affair out of it. You should come.

Back to my story.

So, I was lounging on my bed enjoying my citizenship and doing my passport proud when I received a broadcast message:

WAIT…PLEASE DONT MOVE!
Take a picture of whatever is in front of U, send it to me, I want to see wat u’re seeing right now:D …then forward this message and see how many random pictures you get!

Can you guess what I did? Yup! That’s right. I closed the chat #LikeABawse. I don’t play all those silly bb games. Most of them are just really annoying. I worked too hard to attain my coo keed status, and I can’t afford to just fling it away like used paynt. Anyhu, that’s how I closed the chat and put my phone down.

After about five seconds of listening to the fan, I picked it back up, took a picture of what I was staring at, and sent it to the person who sent me the broadcast ( -.- ). After a conversation that’s none of your business, I put the phone back down and stared at the ceiling for a bit. For lack of anything more entertaining to do, thanks to my citizenship, I picked the phone up again and sent the broadcast to everyone on my contact list.

In retrospect, I should have probably selected the people I was send the message to carefully, as opposed to just ticking ‘select all’, but I’m glad I did because I learnt some stuff I would like to share with you today.

What did I learn from sending a broadcast asking people to send me pictures of what they were looking at?

1. People are either too busy for their own good, or just stuck up. Before I sent the BC, I informed my contacts via my PM, urging them to kindly oblige me as I was bored. Inspite of my appeal, would you believe some people still ignored the message? Ehn! If you ask them now, they’ll say they were working. People sent me pictures from their offices! And those that couldn’t sent me IMs explaining the situation. So what could you possibly be doing?!

2)People spend a lot of time in the bathroom. (•_•) I got a fair amount of bathroom pics. Sinks, bathtubs, bathroom doors, the view from the open toilet door… *sigh* Kinda reminded me of rushing into strangers’ bathrooms one time when I had an august visitor. Mind you, diarrhoea is the shittiest august visitor you will ever have. But this isn’t about me and my bowel movements. What are you guys spending so much time in the bathroom doing? O.o

3. People are liars, or actually really bored. Too many people didn’t send pictures of what they were actually looking at. Am I supposed to believe like 65% of the people on my contact list spend their time staring at walls, fans, closets, and such? Camaaan!!! Some people even sent pictures of walls (¬_¬) Who knows. Maybe you guys were browsing. Maybe. But, if there really is such a vast number of bored people out there, maybe we should consider forming some sort of club. Don’t you think?

4. People are shifty. Those who sent me pictures of their laptop screens (¬_¬) I’m onto you. You were staring at your desktop, yeah? Cool story, bro. I gotcha. And the ones that showed me documents. I’m supposed to believe that’s what you’re using the laptop for ba? No p. I’ll play along. I would’ve maybe even chopped small if you’d shown me a game or a movie. But documents? Your desktop? Really? I just hope you were able to pick back up whatever it was you were really doing from where you left off.

5. People don’t read anymore. Not one person sent me a picture of an open book. Or a PDF on the laptop at the very least. It’s honestly quite disheartening. Especially as the spoken and written english in the country is steadily deteriorating. Please, let’s read more. Novels, newspapers, magazines, self-help books, books that are actually educational. Please. Plus, at least now those of you that tweet ish like “back to reading” are probably lying.

6. @rhaihan_jannah is either a twin, or has super powers. This is probably the most important thing I learnt today. She sent me a picture of HERSELF! So, she was either staring at herself (O_O) or at her twin that she’s managed to keep a secret for this long. I’m just happy I’m the one that uncovered this secret. Feel free to thank me with monetary gifts.

Hopefully, when next I’m bored the club for bored people would be set up and in full operation, and I’ll have somewhere to go. Instead of having to rely on petty bb games for entertainment. Meanwhile, feel free to leave helpful suggestions that will be deeply appreciated in the comment section below.

*goes back to reading*

Desire

Reblogged from ImmortalTeddyBear:

#np Make love – Aisha

Its crazy wen we make love slow sensual exploding imploding Visions of beauty Magic Milky Way soft skin held breath deep moan shudders from your fingers to your spine As i go deeper and make you mine Drink refreshed from your well Tart Smooth Nerves firing full power Back arching Toes curling As I tap into the core of your essence Silent screams explosion overwhelming Body afire

Rest my love

This is just the beginning of my heart’s desire

Too tired to write today, so I decided to share something I absolutely love instead. It's all the same isn't it? :D

My Rainbow

Life. Fire. Power. Red hot pain.
Blood that runs through my veins,
Filling me with the illusion of life,
and yet tumbles out at every scratch
Every cut releases a fresh drop
Cool. Smooth.
Running down my skin free of restraint.
The trail it leaves easily tints my skin
The colour left behind…

It reminds me of leaves in autumn
And long walks along the beach watching the sunset.
But only just a little
The beautiful marigolds that lace the garden across the street
How delicate they look. I compare them to me.
This cell, it makes me weak.
Tortures my soul and frees my tears
I scream with my lips sealed so no one hears
Who will save me?

I need a hero; a man of strength and valour
To don his cape and lasso the moon
It’s been so long since I saw the sun
Who knew I’d miss it so much?
Not me, obviously. I was basking in it’s warmth, and cussing it out when I felt it was too much.
Now it’s gone and I crave those burns I so despised.
The canary, she sings to melt my heart
I wish her away, but still she stays
Chirping in my ear, day in, day out

But there’s little I can do
You see? We’re stuck here, we two
And the green grass she speaks off is way over on the other side
A side I’m starting to believe doesn’t exist
I journeyed a while searching, before I wound up here
And all I have to show for it are my insecurities and shattered hope
They ricochet off the walls and stab me repeatedly
At first it hurt, but I’ve grown accustomed to the feeling
And I completely understand
They’re as irritated by me as I am by myself

I’ve embraced the darkness almost completely
Let it merge with me, and take over
I begin to forget things I need so desperately to remember
Like if the sky is really blue
Or if I really did enjoy the blues
The cheering crowd echoes at the back of my mind
Those days, only yesterday, seem so long long ago
Voices not so distinct, faces all merging into one giant ball of chaos
I try to reach, open my mouth to scream

Alas I’m yet lost and silent
Trapped in darkness as vast as the midnight sky
Desperately trying to escape myself.
Yes, I’m aware I’m trapped in my own mind.
A web of hurt, and hopelessness and grief
One I took the time to weave so intricately
And now I seek release, so I must make peace

I must treat myself like royalty
Move and speak like a greek goddess
I’ve come to realise no one will do this but me
Each man the emperor of his own universe
Laying back and letting subjects feed them grapes all freshly plucked
For the help I seek, I know I must look past this realm
I recall being there a while, but my patience must have worn out
Maybe I need to find my way back there. Maybe.

There’s a pot of gold of gold waiting if you follow a rainbow?
Bitch please, that shit’s just a metaphor.
Before you go searching, gotta ask yourself watchu looking for.
Sometimes, the insecurities they take a break
And then what little hope is left tries to sneak back in
Most times, it succeeds but it never stays long
And it just feels like I’m back at square one
But hope is what we need the most
Because only when you hope for something with all your heart
Can you even begin to have faith
Isn’t that what they say.

I guess my real problem isn’t really the lack
But that more often than not, against all else, I just really hope it all fades to black.

Stories That Touch 3…And a Half (•_•)

Please don’t hate me. I couldn’t figure out what to write about today, so I decided to put up the extra two paragraphs I’ve managed to write in continuation of the story I’m doing. Like I said, I really don’t know where this story is going. I’m just writing as it comes to me, and I’m not even certain I’m gonna finish it. Bear with me. You guys are awesome keezes all around

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Dee screams as he starts crawling ontop of her, her body squirming in revulsion and trying to avoid as much of his touch as she can as his hands grope at her breasts. He lines himself up with her and she squeezes her eyes shut, not wanting to see what’s about to go into her. Legs pulled taut to either side of her, and his weight on her preventing any upward movement, Dee realises there’s no escape from his prodding shaft. She is caught and susceptible to him.

His cock nuzzles up to her and starts to enter as he moves around on top her. Dee whimpers as he grabs her chin and turns her head to face him. Even with eyes squeezed tightly shut, she couldn’t bear to leave her face turned upright. She feels his fingers on her eyelids, trying to force them open. A crooning hiss urges her to look, but she resists as long as she can. All the while, his cock is inching closer and closer to having its entire head inside of her.

She knows he’s almost all the way inside of her, and shame washes over her as she finds herself, once again, longing for him. If she could move, she would be thrusting upwards to take him in, and the realisation of this strengthens her resolve not to look. Deep down inside of her, Dee knows if she were to look at him, at those dark eyes, she would be lost forever. Gone, just another unsolved missing case like the ones she always watches on Crime Network. He moves a finger to get a stronger hold on one eyelid, and Dee feels her right eye inching open. She squirms under him in intense fright as his face comes into view just inches from hers.

Suddenly, his hands pull away and Dee immediately shuts her eyes again, saved from having to look at him. She’s wondering what made him withdraw so quickly, when the cry of a baby rings across the sky. And then she feels herself standing upright, her arms and legs free, and fully clothed. Cautiously, she cracks one eye open. Before here is the dining table, the china cabinet is further along, and more sounds are coming from her hip. The baby is up and crying.

Heaving a sigh of relief, and regret, she moves around the table to the kitchen door. In an attempt to make herself feel better about the experience she just had, Dee thinks how the swinging doors could have been used during the time people had dinosaurs for pets. Unlike the rest of the house, the kitchen is really modern. There’s a stainless steel fridge and oven with a gas stovetop, a stainless steel island with a black granite surface in the middle, and dangling above the island are three cast iron frying pans, four stainless steel pots, and two oven mitts, white with red roses and pink frill.

Dee opens the fridge and finds several tupperware dishes, each one marked with a label describing its contents – pot roast and steamed potatoess, steak, gumbo, fried chicken, and even pizza. On the top shelf, there are a number of baby bottles. Dee grabs one, screws the top off, and turns to the microwave. There’s a note on the door that says “Micro the bottle for twenty seconds”

How Nursery-Friendly Are Nursery Rhymes?

Okay. So, nursery rhymes are usually songs and verses primarily written/sang for children, right? If that’s the case, then why are a whole of them so sad and dreary? You can’t say you haven’t noticed it too.

Jack and Jill

“Jack and Jill
Went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water.
Jack fell down
And broke his crown
And Jill came tumbling after”

We all know the Jack and Jill story. I have to commend them for trying to protect innocent minds from the truth about what they really went up that hill to do (“fetch a pail of water”? Hehehe. She must have been quite the squirter, no?) Let’s brush what really went down aside for a bit and focus on what’s really important.

So, after climbing a hill with Jill, Jack then fell from said hil and broke his head. You know how deadly a head injury can be. He didn’t just bump his head against a stone o! He BROKE it! And that’s not the end

Up got Jack, and home did trot 
As fast as he could caper
He went to bed and bound his head
With vinegar and brown paper.

You see, Jack goes home with his broken head, probably bleeding all the way, and how he even managed to stay conscious is beyond me. At home, vinegar is applied to his injury. Have you ever sliced your hand with a knife and then immediately poured a handful of salt on the cut? No? You should. It’s less painful than pouring vinegar in an injury. Note he’s in bed before the vinegar is applied. This is because the pain will knock you out. Brown paper? I’m going to imagine the rhyme’s talking about some sort of plaster. Problem is, in my head, Jacks injury covers a reasonable portion of his head and I can’t imagine there’s a band aid big enough to cover it. More? Of course.

When Jill came in how she did grin
To see Jack’s paper plaster;
Mother vexed did whip her next
For causing Jack’s disaster.

Jill comes in and grins, excited about her brother’s pain (or about her orgasm). I can’t really say I blame her though, because I tend to laugh when I see certain injuries as well. But, we’re not here to talk about me. So, Jill sees Jack’s injury and her immediate response is to grin. And then mother whips her. But is mother really whipping her for smiling? Or for not coming back with the water she supposedly went to fetch? These are questions we need to ask ourselves.

What does a kid really take away from this nursery rhyme? Why was it really written? Did you know that the earliest version of this rhyme actually had two guys (Jack and Gill) going up a hill? I don’t even want to go down that theoretical road.

I’m just saying. Some nursery rhymes aren’t exactly built for actual nurseries. When infants and toddlers and the like hear this stuff, they don’t even know they’re being scarred. It’s part of the reason why children are so aggressive all the time, I’m sure.

But is it better to allow children get brainwashed into enjoy violence than to acclimatise then to idiocy (with the help of rhymes like that Yankee Doodle nonsense)? It’s a tough call for me. I’ll probably just keep singing gospel songs to my princess (•^_^•)

Stories That Touch 3

Dee found herself wondering how being on an old freighter would feel, only moving as fast as the wind would permit, and sleeping in shifts to make up for the lack of space. Enveloped by these thoughts, she made her way around the table before walking past the china cabinet on the way to the kitchen. A flash of light catches her eye, and her eyes are drawn straight to the storm-tossed freighter.

Suddenly, rain is coming down hard on her, and the ground is rolling to and fro. Stunned, Dee reaches out with one hand and tries to grab hold of a piece of wood. It’s extremely dark, and she’s unable to make out anything until a flash of lighting spears across the sky accompanied by a mighty clash of thunder. What little light the lightening provided made it possible for Dee to see spot a railing a few feet from where she stands. Past the railing, there is a roiling sea, and the ground and carpet have been replaced by broken planks.

A length of rope forms a noose around her ankle, and Dee begins to scream hysterically. She feels a hand on her shoulder and turns to face whoever touched her, but she just faints instead.

When she comes to, she is on her back, and the rain seems to have stopped. Although, the ground is still swaying a little, and she can still make out the sound of gusting wind, a crack of lighting, and then the boom of thunder. Dee opens her eyes to see she is in a sort of cabin with close walls and a high ceiling. All around her are barrels and boxes, and there’s a sort of path down the middle.

Almost as soon as she notices that she and everything around her are swaying back and forth, she hears a hiss to her left. Shrieking, she attempts rolling off where she lay and discovers it is a hammock. Dazed, she laid under the sudden hammock roof until one of the hissing creatures reached for her. Dee scrambles backwards and runs headfirst into a beam. Ignoring the pain, she scrambles upwards and races down the innards of the boat.

She spots a door just ahead of her, and hopes it leads back to the house she’s somehow left behind, and an exit from this boat on a roiling ocean with man-like creatures. Dee hopes the door will, at the very least, provide an escape from the one creature not too far off, hissing and scrabbling, chasing after her.

Dee’s hands are pressed to the door and she’s searching frantically for the knob when the thing behind her let’s out an ear-piercing scream. It seems like a “No”, but she can’t really make out the word. The high pitched wail continues to transcend in pitch, going even higher every time it feels like it’s reached the crescendo. Although Dee had only been searching for the knob for about three seconds, the wailing seemed to go on forever, stretching into minutes, and then hours. During that time, the creature continued to inch closer.

As the creature prepared to lunge at her, Dee’s hand finally finds the doorknob and impatiently yanks it open only to shut it almost immediately. There is no escape on the other side of the door, just more creatures. Dee’s heart sinks as she realises she’s trapped with no option for escape. Fuelled by adrenaline, she makes one last attempt at crawling away and fails. The thing has caught up to her and its slimy hands fall on her, pulling, clutching, and squeezing until she is erect and being pushed forward, into the door. More hands fall on her as she passes the doorway, and she finds herself being led towards a bed ahead. As soon as she’s dropped on the bed, hands begin to tear and tug at her clothes, and after several rips and tears their eyes are alight on exposed breasts and legs.

But these creatures are not satisfied by that which is already displayed before them. There are more rips and tears around Dee’s hip region, and she’s soon lying before them in nothing but her birthday suit. A shiver runs down her spine in anticipation of what she knows is about to happen, but she’s more afraid of these less than appealing creatures getting on top of her, than the sex itself.

Instead of immediately mounting her, the creatures huddle around a few feet away, and appear to be having a conversation. There are squeals and burps, and an occasional glance at Dee, who just stares at them, utterly struck with terror and, quite honestly, a little bit anxious. Only a little bit ashamed, Dee starts to feel excited about one of the almost human creatures having its way with her and starts to wonder which of them it will be. Her eyes quickly move from the one with tentacles in place of arms to the one without a nose, and then one that has scales instead of actual skin.

But they all part to reveal another creature standing behind them, already shirtless, and busy undoing his pants. He’s focused on unfastening his pants, and so Dee can’t see his face, but notices his body is lean and toned. His pants drop to the ground with a soft thud, and a small moan escapes from Dee’s lips at the sight of his size. His skin is tanned golden, and there is a notable absence of hair in that region. He approaches her slowly, deliberately, and hands are on her again, grabbing her arms and legs, holding her open.

Dee struggles against the creatures holding her as he moves closer, really just wanting to be able to wrap herself around him and not be held open to simply be used. He finally looks up at her, and she wrestles even more fervently against her bonds. Her lust for the man before her immediately vanishes, and she would rather any of the other creatures have its way with her instead. While he has the body of a regular man, and his face is quite handsome, his eyes are dead. Pure black and large, almost like shark eyes. Except shark eyes have a white border, and you can see them move, whereas, this man’s eyes are just dark, and there seems to be something roiling within them.

Stories That Touch 2

So, this is to make up for yesterday. It’s kinda long, so it’s okay if you don’t go through with it. It’s just a short story I’m working on as it comes to me. I mean, part of the reason why I’m doing this 30 Day thing is to work on my writing. Wrote the first part two days ago, so you can check that out if you want.

As they enter the house, Dee’s eyes are immediately drawn to the stairs ahead of them. The carpet is a simple and red, running down the deep brown steps with white support, and the very intricately carved riser is also dyed the same dark brown. The entryway’s wooden floor is stained dark brown as well, and it creaks a little as they walk over it.

They turn left into the sitting room, and once again Dee finds herself surveying her surroundings. The far wall is almost completely bare, save one lone painting and a very impressive cabinet/TV stand. On either side of the cabinet is a huge speaker, and the TV is stuck in sideways with a few cables dangling out of the space between the TV and the wood. There’s an elongated oval coffee table in the middle of the room. Carved into the top of the table is a very delicate flower with vines that snake along the shape of the table, just shy of the actual edge by a few inches. At several spots along the vine, there are offshoots of leaves and flowers, and there’s a mess of flowers and leaves running over one end of the table. The entire table itself is a beautiful brown, and the carved recesses are a darker shade of brown, almost reddish in colour.

In the center of the table, there are two piles of literature. One pile composes of magazines, and the other is a large pile of manuals. The TV manual is open on top the pile and slightly offset from the rest. As they get closer to the sofa, Elisa glances at the TV and then calls over her shoulder to her husband. “Anthony dear, don’t you think now would be a good time to get the TV set up properly?” Dee is unaware that her hand has been released from Elisa’s feathery touch until she notices her future employer waving her towards the sofa before moving towards. The chair at the end of the coffee table herself. She gets to the chair and turns, waiting for Dee to take a seat.

Dee carefully reaches for the arm of the sofa and lowers herself unto the plump cushion, but ends up falling back against the rear support. As it turns out, the cushions are plush as well as plump, and Dee felt like she’s sunk not less than a foot into the deceptively soft sofa. Elisa starts laughing and Dee joins in after a few seconds. The two sit there for a while, laughing, until they’re interrupted by Anthony cussing loudly. They watch briefly as he wedges himself between the TV and the cabinet and battles with wires, and then Elisa turns back to Dee and grills her on her past babysitting experiences and qualifications.

It’s not long before she’s satisfied and stares long and hard at Dee, trying to get a good look at her. As Elisa takes her time boring into Dee with her eyes, Dee does what little she can to try to hold her gaze. The depth of the blue has Dee feeling lost and they sit staring at each other for an indefinite amount of time. Finally, Eli’s eyes travel downward and Dee’s do the same, taking in her supple body like she was seeing it for the first time. Lingering on the swell of her breasts, watching with intense longing as they rise and fall with every breath. Dee forcefully shifts her gaze and lets her eyes fall on the skirt of Elisa’s dress.

What she initially intended as a saving grace turns out to be quite the opposite as Dee finds herself both wondering and longing for what lies hidden underneath the voluminous folds of the skirt. Her mind begins to race with images of ripping the dress off and laying Elisa back on the chair with her legs spread wide. She imagines inhaling the folds of skin beneath and tasting what she’s sure would be a delicious flavour. She fantasises about listening to her moan as her tongue and fingers explore the warm depth and tangy goodness her pussy has to offer, and feeling Elisa’s breathing get sharper and more urgent as her hands close around the soft orbs on her chest.

Dee’s fantasy goes as deep as having she and Elisa engaged in a deep kiss, their tongues dancing around in the other’s mouth, before Elisa breaks the kiss and stares at her with lust-clouded eyes. She travels down Dee’s body, planting kisses along the way, and Dee squirms and groans in reponse beneath her. At the junction of her legs, Dee spreads her legs wide to grant her access to every part.

A gentle shake drags Dee’s mind back to the present and she glances up to stare into Elisa’s concerned face. Red with embarrassment, she apologises for not paying attention, but can’t miss the hint of joy in Elisa’s eyes. Elisa opens her mouth to say something, but changes her mind as Anthony walks up to stand by her side. “Elisa darling, as much as you’re enjoying torturing our new babysitter, we really have to be on our way. Dee, is it?” He pauses, and so I nod. “I’m terribly sorry about the TV, but there’s a radio in the kitchen and you can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. Emergency numbers are on the fridge.” He helps Elisa up, and they rush towards the door.

At the door, Elisa turns and talks to Dee over her shoulder “The baby, Nora, is asleep upstairs. She’s really friendly, so it shouldn’t be a problem. If she wakes up crying, just call her ‘booba’ and she’ll cheer right up. There’s a baby monitor in the room upstairs, and the receiver’s in the kitchen.” Dee watches them leave and waves as they pull out of the driveway and speed off. Shutting the door behind her, Dee heads upstairs and seeks out the bedroom. The plush kingsize bed is made up, and there are boxes stacked neatly against the wall beside the door. There’s an expensive-looking ornate drawer tucked away in a corner, and along the wall opposite is a once-white closet door. There are small corner dressers with one drawer each on either side of the headboard. The tops have identical alarm clocks, and the receiver for the baby monitor is on the left dresser. Realising there’s no sound coming from the receiver, Dee picks it up and turns it over. No batteries.

She opens the drawer and finds an unopened pack of batteries. Taking the receiver and batteries with her, she leaves the bedroom and shuts the door behind her. She heads down the stairs, turns right, and lands in the dining room. The dining table immediately grabs her attention. It’s obviously not a new one, but it’s impressive nonetheless. The top is egg-shaped and extends maybe five feet across, with a white lace runner, held in place by a dark brown bowl of flowers, running across. It’s supported by a single, very thick post with several arms, each one clutching some sort of orb, sticking out at the base.

Around the table are six chairs, each one beautifully carved. In the seat of each chair is a velvet red cushion tied to the runners of the back. The runners are spiralling twirls of wood, and the side post are round columns carved with the same intricate rose and vines as the coffee table. The legs of the chairs are just simple posts that thin as they rise towards the seat.

On the far side of the table, Dee notices a dark wood china cabinet with the same rose and vine detailing. The vines trail up the wood in an eccentric, twisting manner, broken up by a rose along several spots. The glass shelves hold several glass globes, filled with a number of differently coloured roses. The globe that really grabs her attention is the one with a little sailing ship inside it. The ship looks like it’s floating in a rolling sea, and all the, except the one in front, sails have been drawn up and tied. Dee can’t help but notice how much it resembles an old freighter preparing for a heavy storm.

Stories That Touch

It’s 4pm, and the sun is just beginning its retreat when Dee pulls up in front of the house. She gets out of the car and makes her way up the driveway, not really paying attention because she’s so focused on straightening her clothes. She really needs this job, and so she desperately wants to make a good first impression. A few feet away from the door, she finally takes a good look at the building she’s been invited to and is instantly taken aback. It’s just two storeys and not very big, so there isn’t really much in terms of attention grabbing where size is concerned. What has Dee transfixed is the appearance of the house.

Like almost every house on the block, the upstairs has two windows. What’s unusual is that the wood on the windows is bleached bone white, and they are specks of black from what Dee assumed are cracks in the wood. It’s darker under the windows. Various ideas about what caused the stain run through Dee’s mind – mildew, or water stains maybe- but a part of her mind holds fast to the idea that the house is crying.

The grand porch leading up to the door is also bleached the same white as the windows, but the dark spots are absent. Instead, there are streaks that look a bit grayish and they make the support beams look a bit like bones that had been left out to dry. The porch roof is raised in the middle to form a sort of pyramid/triangle, and the part just above the door is bleached the same bony white. However, there’s an arrow pointing directly at the door, almost like the house itself is inviting you in.

The second storey windows have tinted glass, and are lit from withing so they look a bit like black eyeballs with red light coming through. Dee feels a shiver run down her spine, as she continues to examine the building. The rational part of her mind keeps singing in her mind how this is just a house and she’s over thinking things, a less rational part that has seen one too many horror movies keeps telling her the house looks evil.

As if to give more truth to her fears, the left window shuts off when Dee turns to leave, making it look like the house is winking. Rooted to the spot by fear, Dee watches as a shadow appears behind the window on the right, and then listens to the voices coming from the house. Soon after, the front door opens and a tall, well-built man strides towards her. His blonde hair is tussled in a kind of sweep across his head, and he’s wearing a dark grey business suit with a white shirt.

Before Dee can fully wrap her mind around what’s happening, the man’s hands have found one of hers and are pulling her towards the door while he prattles on and on about how wonderful it is that she could make it, and how glad he is to meet her, and other things that just sound like nonsense to her startled brain. And then they reach the front door, and she’s standing there in all her magnificent glory. She’s petite and blond, her luscious locks cascading down her shoulders in a classic southern belle way. Her dress, a deep resplendent purple, shows off her lithe body in perfect detail.

“Anthony, darling,” her voice is light as air itself. If that’s possible. “don’t you think you should let our guest catch her breath?” Her fingers pry my hand loose from his ans she pulls me into the house with her. When we’re a safe distance from her husband, she laughs and says “I told you that would happen.”

Coco To The Rescue! (•^_^•)

Of course, everyone here has been asked what super power they would like to possess. I’d like to let those of you that have previously given me your answers all suck :p I’m now going to briefly run through super power’s I’ve always thought about having.

“It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s Coco Burra!!”. The power of flight. I feel like the people we know have the power of flight i.e Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, et al have deceived us. Yes, we have been lied to. Especially by superman. I mean, think about it. Flying is basically kinda like moving in the sky the way you would on the ground, but harder. You have to take into consideration the atmosphere, and wind and all that technical stuff. How fast can you really fly and still be comfortable. The wind will keep getting in your eye, and there’s that horrible feeling in your ears from the pressure. Well, flying would probably be an awesome power if you took aerial shots for a living. You’d make a killing, so I guess that would be okay.
LOL! Is ice cold breath really a super power? Is it really? What are you going to do with ice breath? Let’s see… You could make instant popsicles/ice lollies. Or get attractive babes/guys like they always imply in those mint gum/toothpaste commercials, right? Oh! I watched ‘Man On A Ledge’ today, and I think the thing they did with the safe and liquid nitrogen was pretty cool, so you could probably do that with super ice breath. Yeah?

Invisibility could be cool, but is it really a power? Sure, no one will be able to see you, but then so what? Okay. Does being invisible also mean you can walk through walls and stuff? Cuz then you can actually rob a bank. But you have to think about the bag you’re putting the money in. Can you extend your invisibility to objects around you? Invisibility would be really handy during one of the many awkward moments I’m so fund of having.

What would you do with X-ray vision? I’ve never really understood this one. If it’s x-ray vision shouldn’t that mean you can see people’s bones and not through their clothes. I kinda get seeing through walls I guess. Haven’t figured out what I’d do with x-ray vision, so I’m just gonna forge ahead. Okay? Okay.

At the top of my list are super speed and super strength. Being able to lift anything without breaking a sweat should be every female’s dream. So all those boys will stop feeling like something special. Speed would be awesome, because then I wouldn’t have to waste transport money going anywhere, or get on these Lagos buses that cause me so much grievance. I think I might miss the buses a little. Aside from being incredibly uncomfortable, my bus rides are the absolute best in terms of entertainment. But, being a safety freak, I’d probably have to have a helmet on if I’m gonna be moving that fast. In case I trip or something, you know?

Well, that’s it from me. Feel free to leave your own comments/observations/thoughts in the comments section below. Have a wonderful night (•^_^•)