Saturday, July 2, 2011

No One To Blame....but yourself!

439 words. I'd love to have a title for this. I wrote it as a writing challenge from Catrina Taylor at: Writer's Challenge

Used this as SampleSunday, but finally got my title.

NO ONE TO BLAME....BUT YOURSELF.


I knew mum would be angry, but I couldn't help myself. Her words rang inside my head as I hid behind the keg of ale. "Blimey, child, look at him. All campy and stiff like that bust of the general in the square. And did ye hear him talk? Breviloquent and all that, just like we wasn't nothing but dirt under this feet. He be nothing but trouble, and ye best be remembering that."

Mum was probably right, but I was bored. And even trouble was better than boredom. The stranger was tall. By far the tallest man I had ever seen. And his hands looked so soft. Not like Jeremiah's. I blushed thinking about those soft hands touching my bosom, opening up long denied emotion, entrancing me in an explosion of desire. I started to breathe in short gasps, as if I'd climbed a mountain. Loosening the top buttons of my blouse, I slipped the sleeves off the shoulders, revealing what most would consider an indecent amount of cleavage. I'd seen the way the stranger looked at me. The way a man looks at a woman he wants. Smiling I slipped from behind the keg of ale and made my way to his table. My eyes met his, and he smiled.

"I like it rough, girlie. You up for that?"

"I like it satisfying. Are you up for that?"

Downing the last of his beer he stood up taking my hand and leading me upstairs to his room. He turned once to look behind us as the patrons burst out in raucous laughter. "Come," I whispered.

True to his word, no sooner had the door closed than he ripped off my clothes, backhanding me hard when I started to protest. In moments he was on top of me grunting, and in less than a minute he rolled off. Rage started in the pit of my bowels, seeping into my blood. Not a single kiss. And he didn't even bother touching my bosom with those soft hands.

Pushing me off the bed he reached for his smokes, laughing softly. "Told you I liked it rough. Got no one to blame but yourself."

I laughed softly as I turned to him, glimpsing the first spark of fear in his eyes. Fear that quickly turned to terror as screams filled the night. In less than a minute I rolled off of him, licking the blood from my lips as the upper fangs slowly dissipated. He was still breathing, and I turned his face so his eyes met mine. "Told you I liked it satisfying. Got no one to blame but yourself."


Hope you enjoyed it, and if you can suggest a good title I would very much appreciate it.

Happy July 4th.

Love the suspense and mystery of The Killing? Check out The Jacody Ives Mysteries

5 comments:

  1. One Bad Screw Deserves Another

    as a title? maybe?

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  2. Traci HohensteinJuly 3, 2011 at 4:42 AM

    LOL @ Charles. That made my morning. I love the story Linda. Will have to think about title. Happy 4th! xxTraci

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  3. Google still doesn't recognize me--humm...

    Thanks, Charles. You made me smile.

    Linda

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  4. WHOA! But honestly, I think Charles nailed it.

    ReplyDelete