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  • Writer Central: Poetry & Short Stories


    Personally I thoroughly enjoyed the chain story post, but at times it seemed a bit hard to keep going...so why not institute an alternative?

    I deem this post the place for you to let your creative juices flow whether you'd like a critique, general advising or to throw in a contribution because you consider sharing your work to be a truly gratifying experience.

    Poetry, short stories, papers, it's all fair game! Now I know this goes without saying, but as a reminder be careful not to offer anything other than constructive criticism/praise or steal/reproduce someone else's works. Also be mindful of hairtipsforme's rules about explicit content or anything that would be deemed un-acceptable.

    With all that said....let the posting begin!!!


    OK I have something.. it's not a poem/prose. it's the scene from a screenplay i'm working on and wondering what people thought
    right now this scene is about twice as long as it should be. any advice would be greatly appreciated


    A newly converted warehouse. A press conference has just ended. SEVERAL PEOPLE line the hallway. RICHARD ROTMENSES(50) charges down the hallway. He disregards the REPORTERS AND PHOTOGRAPHERS clamoring for his attention.

    Behind him trails LAWSON ROTMENSES (LAW), mid-20àƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s. He carries himself with a smug self-assurance. A large BODYGUARD trails behind Law.

    Richard reaches a door and grasps the handle. Law places a hand on his fatheràƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s shoulder to stop him.
    Law gives his father a smile and opens the door for him. The older man walks through. Law follows. The bodyguard stays outside, making sure that no one else enters.


    The furniture is an ugly grey metal desk and an uncomfortable looking piece of wood shaped like a chair. Richard looks disgusted as he faces his son.

    If you ever pull a stunt like that again!

    Law conceals a smirk. He crosses his arms in front on him and sits on the corner of the desk. He discretely removes a ring from the hand he touched his father with and places it inside his jacket pocket. He watches his father intently.

    They only believe what we tell them.

    Richard gazes out of a nearby window. The view is bleak. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and blots his forehead.

    I donàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t know why I let you talk me into this.

    Because this is the only way a man like you could rule anything more than a company.

    How dare you!

    He blots his face again and loosens his tie.

    Face it, pop. Running a company and running a country arenàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t the same.

    Law looks at his watch and then back to his father. Richard Law looks frantic and turns back to the window. Heàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s sweating profusely.

    Cloche and Abbott... I never thought...Theyàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢re going to screw everything up!

    Law looks back down at his watch.

    I sent the Gen Mods.

    Richard blots his forehead and neck again.

    Do you think that was wise, after all it was Cloche who -

    Nothing you need to worry about.

    Law still intensely stares at his father, almost as if heàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s holding his breath.

    Nothing I need to worry about?

    Richard turns to Law. Heàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s sweating even more.

    If they go public, weàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢ll have a little more than nothing -.

    The older man staggers. He gets his balance by holding on to the window frame. Law lets out a sigh of relief.
    The older man breathes heavily and looks up to his son. A look of recognition passes over his face.

    You son of *****.

    Now, now, dad. Thatàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s mom youàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢re talking about.

    Richard Law throws a hand over his chest and slumps on the window sill.

    LAW (CONT'D)
    Being betrayed by your two best friends and todayàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s press conference were too much for you.

    Richard Law gasps for breath. He can barely talk.

    You...wont... get -

    Law quickly stands and looks down on his father.

    Get away with it? Of course I will. This labàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s been getting away with all kinds of things for years because of me. What makes you think I canàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t - ?

    Richard smiles and attempts to laugh.

    You wonàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t get... Rotmenses.

    The older man falls to the ground. Law stares at him, satisfied. He speaks barely above a whisper.

    Help. I think somethingàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s wrong with my dad.


    I have a thing or two I can throw in to start things off.

    Just as a disclaimer this first entry is a little rough around the edges because it was written so long ago, but hopefully it isn't too bad...lol

    - - ->* Daisha: Stone Angel

    Smell me, Captivate me, Fulfill me, but donàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t Touch

    Midnight once again and Iàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢m chillin with the holder of my heart, but he can never return my love; Ronnell is my best friend among other things.

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Tally it up negro, Mel and I have won yet another hand so whas tha dealàƒ¢â‚¬à‚, I gloated mercilessly. àƒ¢â‚¬à…I guess spades just ainàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t ya forteàƒ¢â‚¬à‚¦àƒ¢â‚¬à‚

    Thursday is game day and my partner in crime has decided to join me with her better half Dezion and our mutual friend Ronnell for a few hands of cards. Weàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢re playin $20 per hand and currently my girl and I are up 4:0.

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Baby, whereàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s my money?àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ Melanie questions while starring Dez down.

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Imma little short on cash, but I gotchu mami as soon as I see a cash machineàƒ¢â‚¬à‚, he replies.

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Umhmm, Dez get ya coat.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Baby where we goin? Weàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢re not done yet...àƒ¢â‚¬à‚

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…To an atm so I can get my money before you forget. You said soon as you saw a cash machine right? Well imma expedite the process.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ Melanie grabbed her coat and began heading toward the door. àƒ¢â‚¬à…Weàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢ll be back in a couple hours kids so have fun and stay outta trouble.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚

    With that she was gone and I was alone with him; I tried to keep my cool, but just being near Ronnell warmed my blood. Thoughts of us together began to flood my mind, I knew we could be perfect together, but fate had other plans I suppose.

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Jus so you know, I ainàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t got ya money and I donàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t plan on running to an atm to fetch it.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚

    Notorious for ruining a mood, I donàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t know where he comes from.

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Nelly you givin me somethin cause I definitely stomped ya butt into the ground wit my skillz. I know money is ya first love so Iàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢m not gon bag you for holdin it tight, but I have rights to whateva comes second.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…My second love is myself, no doubt.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚

    I couldnàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t help, but laugh as he popped his collar and dusted off his shoulder, àƒ¢â‚¬à…Then give me ya selfàƒ¢â‚¬à‚, I replied while making my way to the kitchen.

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Yo, I donàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t do indentured servitude!àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ Ronnell screamed while sinking deeper into the couch; Iàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢m guessing his change in tone was an attempt to make it sound as if he meant business, but his scare tactic was weak.

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Personally I think youàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢d suck as a slave which is why I wouldnàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t enlist you, but then again who would...àƒ¢â‚¬à‚

    Before I could finish my sentence Nell had lifted me onto to the counter and stood staring me down; without notice heàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢d restrained me completely.

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…You think you cute huh? Tryna be funny gon get you poppedàƒ¢â‚¬à‚¦àƒ¢â‚¬à‚

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Yeah, by yo big ole bubble head while you pushin it in my face like it ainàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t a lethal weapon.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ I spat back.

    With that said Iàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢d won our quarrel and was released from my countertop prison, even though I wouldnàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t have minded being held in his arms for a while longer.

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Now back to business punk. I didnàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t mean I wanted your labor, I want you, I have the rights to something tangible unless you wanna supply the cash after all.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Daisha whatchu mean?àƒ¢â‚¬à‚

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Figure it out Einstein and do it fastàƒ¢â‚¬à‚¦àƒ¢â‚¬à‚

    After wasting a portion of the night attempting to retrieve my winnings I became content with the harsh reality that I would be left empty-handed and the pointless debates that led me there left me exhausted.

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Iàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢m going to get ready for bed, make ya self at home bighead.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚

    After Iàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢d entered my room and began to undress my terrible habit of daydreaming consumed me again; I imagined a perfect world in which Ronnell and I were together. Within it, an opportunity such as tonightàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s was presented and we capitalized on our alone time; I became so engrossed that I could almost feel his touch as he caressed my sides and squeezed my hips.

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…D mn that feels goodàƒ¢â‚¬à‚ I murmured while enjoying my fantasy.

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…This is only the beginning girl, wait till you see myàƒ¢â‚¬à‚¦àƒ¢â‚¬à‚


    I turned to find myself face to face with Ronnell.

    Before I could fully understand the complexity of the situation I felt his lips connect with mine and ecstasy erupted from the very bowels of my being. The room began to spin as our heart rates skyrocketed; if our pleasure was a song the lyrics were tight, the melody was flawless and the beat downright intoxicating. Passion continued to consume us both until his phone rang and our connection was broken. As soon as he ended his conversation he began putting on his clothes; no eye contact was even attempted on his part until he was fully dressed.

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…That was Stacy; she said she needs me to come home. Look, I thought this is what you meant when you said you wanted me; I didnàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t think Itàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢d play out like this, we were supposed to have more time. If you want me to stay I canàƒ¢â‚¬à‚¦àƒ¢â‚¬à‚

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Just go, your wife needs you and thatàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s where you belong.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚

    An awkward silence filled the room as we were both at a loss for words.

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Same time next Thursday? You can bet Iàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢ll bring my A game,àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ he spat breaking the silence.

    àƒ¢â‚¬à…No doubt bighead, jus know ya A game gets knocked down to a C when compared to mineàƒ¢â‚¬à‚¦àƒ¢â‚¬à‚

    After a few more exchanged words I escorted Ronnell to the door and watched him pull away.

    Tonight was like many Thursday nights; I was presented with an opportunity and had to decide whether to take it or let it pass and tonight I slipped up once again. Following our last rendezvous I found myself with child, but in an attempt to preserve his marriage I terminated my pregnancy; loving a man with standing obligations leaves me hanging in the balance.


    OK I have something.. it's not a poem/prose. it's the scene from a screenplay i'm working on and wondering what people thought
    First off thanks for chiming in Galaxy Girl!! Secondly I really enjoyed your scene; I was easily able to envision it as I read along. By far my favorite part was the close because of the sinicism; how dare a son barely call for help as his father lie nearly dead on the floor. I don't think it's too long at all either, it's well developed and paints the full picture.

    There was only one line I didn't understand, "The older man breathes heavily and looks up to his son. A look of recognition passes over his face." I didn't get what he was recognizing at first then when I caught it made me wonder if Richard & Law had poisioned someone else and that's why he suddenly realized what was happening to himself.


    An opening to a story I started a while back...

    He was my air, but now his carbon monoxide love chokes me,
    and I was his light, that is until my eternal flame diminished into a spark. I realize I evaded his vision just as fast as I appeared; I started the fire, but couldnàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t warm his
    heart. My àƒ‚à‚£ovàƒŽà‚µ || EtàƒŽà‚µrnal was a feigned reality, but Iàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢m praying itàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s coming soon.


    Nice short story DivineNapps.

    I think I'm going to be a reader in this thread. I found that I like to write, but I think I need structure.


    sorry i'm just now getting back to this thread. i'm in the midst of trying to complete the rewrite for my screenplay in time to enter it into a competition

    Before I could fully understand the complexity of the situation...

    basically the son poisoned his dad with a pin prick when he opened the door for him. after reading your input that it wasnt clear, i think i have figured out how to make it clearer and save some time. richard's recognition is more from realizing that his son is a complete butt. he had an idea (by putting a clause in his will that if he died, the company would go to someone else NOT his son) but didnt want to believe it


    I'm writing a book, so would it be ok to add segments of chapters? I know I could definitely use some constructive criticism.



    Sure! I plan to do something similar once I get things organized.


    I think this topic needs its own forum headline!


    ^^^ I know, right?

    I'm working on the sequel to one novel and a whole new series right now. I swear, I will self-publish before the year is out, dammit.



    i agree! i've been waiting for a writer's forum to...

    good luck! i've written a book that will hopefully be out in april of 08....but i didn't self-publish...i didn't have the money to do that...lol.

    these stories are really good! i'll be back with mine in a hot sec. it's a story i've been trying to decide whether or not to expand into a whole novel. in the meantime....i ask everyone to take a look at my fiction blog (link in siggy) and tell me what you think!


    be right back


    ^^^ Thanks!
    I've got novels on top of novels sitting around and finally the wife was like, "Okay, I know you're all Erykah Badu "sensitive about your ish" but for real, we need to get the publishing company popping and publish your ish."
    Soooo... we trademarked the company and I'm doing final edits on the first two that are due to come out and waiting on my homegirl to do my covers. I swear on everything I love, if my ish cracks, I will quit and do nothing but write FULL TIME.
    (You heard it here first, people.)



    i've written a book that will hopefully be out in april of 08....but i didn't self-publish...i didn't have the money to do that...lol.

    How do you go about getting something published. I have alot of poetry and short stories I've been trying to organize, but motivation is low because I wouldn't even know how to begin the process of getting it released.

    Please share release dates ladies! I'd love to support ya ^_^ ...I'm ready for a <strike>good</strike> great read


    This is one of the most prized short stories I've written to date; I know it backwards and forwards, but it seems new everytime I read it

    {Jàƒƒà‚¼àƒ‚à‚§àƒ¢â‚¬à‚* Whàƒƒà‚¤àƒ¢â‚¬à‚* Thàƒƒà‚« Dàƒƒà‚¶àƒƒà‚§àƒ¢â‚¬à‚*àƒƒà‚¶r àƒƒârdàƒƒà‚«ràƒƒà‚«d}

    Love is a drug, most powerful in pure forms, but equally as deadly when tainted. Lust, jealousy, desire, and ardor are all impersonators of ravenous culprit; they're often misinterpreted for "the real thing", but when their identity surfaces hell is to pay.

    Many have fallen victim to such a feat and below are the tales of those brave souls who've survived....

    Nasir should have come with a warning label; I was sick, he was prescribed, but proven to be more detrimental than helpful. He is a controlled substance, meant to be administered with care and the utmost caution; if I'd known he'd become an addiction I wouldn't have indulged so much.

    My girls said he was a "safe bet" and I must admit I was up for anything right about now; a faltering career and dissipated marriage can do that to a woman.

    We met for a late lunch and discussed our desires; I wanted sex and he liked the excitement of it all.

    It almost didn't happen. The night we were to engage in our adult escapdes reality slapped me in the face; I knew nothing about this man, his past, or his values, but as I questioned his virtue I'd realized I had no right for I knew more of him than he of I.

    His glare alone was erogenous, his touch went un-matched, his skill meticulous and evident; I'd fallen in love.

    Week after week we crept, lovemaking was our mission in all possible positions that is until he left, disappeared, vanished.

    I called a friend and queried his whereabouts and now I'm here...






    To celebrate

    T H E


    of our dearly departed brother..."

    He had A.I.D.S. And now I stand here on hollow ground surrounded by fellow conquests; a grassy lot full of once lonely women who sought a thrill at any cost.

    He always said "I'd die for love", and I foolishly agreed.

    With the test results back, I'm POSITIVE I will....


    Soooo... we trademarked the company and I'm doing final edits...

    WOW. that's powerful. great great write. i mean, like, excellent. i'll be right back with mine. did anyone check out my fiction blog?


    WOW. that's powerful. great great write. i mean, like, excellent....

    Thanks for the info & the compliment

    I haven't gotten to the blog yet, but I will between tonight and tomorrow night



    His heavy locs swayed against his back with each footstep, like he had his own personal wind machine following his every move.

    The well tailored black-on-black tux he wore accentuated his broad shoulders well and could not hide the rippled body that Jade knew rested beneath.

    Or maybe it was just her imagination.

    "You look....beautiful. I meant to tell you earlier, but you were...busy." He said, that familiar sexy voice reminding her why their phone conversations always lasted longer than they were supposed to.

    He stood facing her, fighting every instinct in his body to pull her in his strong embrace and kiss her until her soul blushed. He wished the doors that separated the decadent ballroom from the large balcony they now stood on were not glass. He wished no one existed right now but she and him. Then he'd be happy.

    He was close now. So close she could smell the jasmine oil that he had used on his hair earlier mingling with the strong, sexy scent of his Curve cologne. She could almost hear his heart beating. She was sure he could hear hers, seeing as it was thumping double time.

    She looked into his dark eyes. She'd never seen eyes that were completely black. Piercing. Nigel could have a whole conversation with his eyes. Right now they were telling her everything that she already knew was in his heart.

    "Thank you." That was all she could manage nearly two minutes after his original compliment.

    She peaked around him, looked through those doors, saw people of all races there, fake smiles celebrating with expensive champagne and boring conversation. The only thing she was enjoying about this night was the moments alone with Nigel. This moment.

    Out in this night air, the ambiance was perfect. Nigel looking like the African god he was, the music from the live jazz band playing inside fighting it's way through the glass doors, and soft, romantic lights lining the entire balcony.

    "Why don't we just skip out on this. We don't need to be here. I need you. Been thinking about that beautiful body of yours ever since I saw you in that dress tonight." The lust in his tone was unmistakable. The love in his eyes was, too.

    "They are honoring your brother, Nigel. We can't just leave. He worked hard for this, we should be supportive." She said, trying to convince him and herself at the same time.

    "I think I've done a damn good job at being supportive, Jade. I won this campaign for him, after all. All things considered, I'd say I've been more than supportive." A flash of anger seared in his eyes as this passed his lips.

    He had been supportive. He'd done all the dirty work that Nathaniel had refused to do, for merely twenty percent of the cost of what a real campaign manager would have cost his brother.

    But that's what brothers did, right? They were supportive. Still, she grabbed his hand, kissed his cheek gently.

    "I know baby, and soon you won't have to worry about meetings, arrangements, conferences, speeches, nothing. After tonight, you can relax a bit."

    At least she was able to prod a slight smile out of him. Not enough to convince the dimple in his left cheek to show itself, but enough to let her know that it had helped.

    He looked down at the swell beneath her silky, black, designer dress. At three months, she was beginning to show.

    "How is my little king doing? You feel alright? He giving you trouble?" He asked, letting a deep breath escape.

    He placed a large, manicured hand on her belly, gently rubbing in circles. He didn't care if anyone saw their closeness. She was his woman. Didn't care about the uppity crowd inside that would frown upon this moment.

    She smiled. "You don't know if it's a boy or a girl, Nigel. I think it's a girl. And she's doing just fine. I think I'm almost over this morning sickness, God help me."

    She knew the exact day and moment that their little gift had been conceived. She tried to stop the slight shudder that ran through her body when the memory of that steamy night, of Nigel's mouth softly singing to every part of her mocha flesh played in her mind, but she couldn't.

    Nigel inhaled. The scent of Jade's perfume and the glow of pregnancy that almost illuminated her angelic face made his attempts to stay decent in public almost impossible. His insides quaked for this woman. He shook his head, amazed at the power this one woman had over his heart, body, and soul. He needed her like he needed air.

    "We should leave, Jade. Please. Only for a moment. I don't care about this party. Don't care about Nathaniel right now. I need you tonight, right now. I need to get out of here." His low, husky voice was almost pleading now.

    Jade stood up straight. Took a step toward the glass doors separating her two realities.

    "We can't just leave. Nathaniel needs us. You know that."

    Just as his lips parted to counter her statement, he heard the heavy doors slide open, jovial jazz music escaped and wafted into the starry abyss. Nathaniel's cheery voice followed.

    "There you are, my love. I've been looking all over for you. Why aren't you inside enjoying the party?"
    He was happy, nearly tipsy, riding high on his win in the mayoral election tonight.

    Nigel smiled. Began speaking before Jade started stuttering. \"Hey, brother. I had to steal your wife for a moment. Brought her outside. She looked like she needed some fresh air. Just making sure the little one in the oven is alright. But, she's fine. I guess you can have her back now.\"

    He walked towards his brother, grazing Jade ever so gently as he passed. He gave his twin brother a strong hug. Looked into a face that mirrored his own. If it weren't for Nathaniel's hazel eyes and short hair-cut, no one would be able to tell them apart. He felt the jealousy coursing through his body like a fast spreading disease. He had to get out of this place.

    "I'm gonna get out of here, man. Still have a lot of work to do. This is only the beginning, my brother. Make sure you get some rest tonight."

    "Sure thing, man. And, thanks for everything, Nigel. I owe you one....or seven hundred." Nathaniel said jokingly.

    "Yeah, that's about right. But don't worry, I'll cash in on that soon enough. You all have a good night. Take care, Jade." Nigel said with a nod, and disappeared into the ballroom, where a party was still going on.

    Jade watched his locs sway away, in total shock that this was actually her life. Her heart was beating so loudly, she could barely hear Nathaniel speaking to her.

    "Baby, you okay? How do you feel?" He asked, placing a large manicured hand on her belly and kissing her lightly on the cheek.

    She looked down at her stomach. If she didn't look up into his concerned hazel eyes, if the fourth finger wasn't the home of a platinum wedding band, this could be Nigel's hand.

    "I'm fine, babe. Let's go inside."


    Nigel smiled. Began speaking before Jade started stuttering. "Hey, brother....

    when I read this part I actually yelled out DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG! It's like that!

    that was absolutely wonderful. now I just want more.


    that was absolutely wonderful. now I just want more....

    thank you

    i may expand it....haven't decided.


    I hope this isn't too long, but I added the prologue because it gives you a little insight into the world I've tried to create. Just a warning, this is science fiction. :P

    SAF> abbreviation Special Abilities Force
    Aes Sidhe >noun semi-nomadic starfaring race of advanced humanoids possessing abilities and technology far beyond that of the human race. Last lived on Earth circa 1200 A.D. Returned to Earth on December 31, 2080.
    Mutant (also Changer) >noun a descendant of Aes Sidhe and human couplings possessing mutated physical and metaphysical characteristics due to inter-species genetic hybridization. See >Genetic Cleansing Commission.
    Were>noun Slang usage of the word, to describe Changers with the ability to affect morphologic changes on their bodies from human to animal forms. See Werewolves, Changers, Mutants, Bronx Zoo.
    Lamia>noun Slang word, used to name those Mutants displaying photophobia, extreme anemia, and some dental elongation. See Vampires, Changers, Midnight Market, GCC, Vlad the Impaler.
    Psych>noun Slang word, used to name those Mutants displaying the ability to affect the physical word through use of mental kinetics. See Psychics, Telekinesis.
    Fey>noun Slang word, used to name those Mutants displaying various physical deformities i.e. scales, tails, horns, and sometimes the ability to affect certain states and types of matter through the use of mental kinetics.
    -The New World Dictionary, 2nd edition, àƒ‚à‚© 2317,
    Simon, Fitzgerald, & Parkinson Publishing,
    New York, New York City-State

    Chapter One: Dreams and Memory
    She was running again. Through forests of dark trees outlined in black against a red sky, she fought her way through the clawing branches that gouged the skin at her arms and face. She could feel blood running down her cheeks, tasting it as it pooled in the corners of her mouth and fell down her chin. Her heart was thumping in her chest, so fast and hard it was about to burst apart. But she could only keep running because something was behind her. And it wanted her to die.
    She woke up but couldnàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t move. Trapped in her body, still short of breath from the run in her dream she was paralyzed but conscious. She felt her lungs burning from lack of air, and willed her body to move, to do something. But, she could do nothing but lie there, and die.
    She breathed. Pulling in desperate greedy gulps of air, she opened her eyes. Reaching out to her left she ran her hand over the sensor on the table next to the bed and white light flooded the small bedroom. Sweat beaded her golden-brown forehead running down her temples, matting the curly black hair that sprung up around her head like a dark halo. She tried to sit up and gasped in pain. She reached down and saw livid, fresh scratches on the skin below her right hip-bone. Sheàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢d clawed herself in her sleep again. She lay back down, and sighed. It had been a night like any other: painful, sleepless. Had she dared to hope that this night would be different? She laughed at herself. You shouldnàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t want what you canàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t possibly get, she thought.
    The ointment for her wound lay on the table next to the sensor, she blindly reached out for it, but instead of smooth plastic her hand felt cold metal. Her badge. She picked it up and held it up to the light. It was brass, the letters NYC carved into it surrounded by rays of light. Underneath read, Detective Ann Stark SAF Lieutenant of the NYPD, The city of light, àƒ¢â‚¬à…to honor and protect humanityàƒ¢â‚¬à‚. Rubbing her fingers over the cool metal, she wondered who would protect her, from herself.

    Working on two hours of fitful sleep was getting to be a problem. Ann rubbed her eyes tiredly as she shrugged on her uniform. She had barely enough energy to put on the entire kit. The black and white of the SAF division of the New York City police department fitted her slim, petite body perfectly, as it was meant to do. The black derma-plastic jumpsuit melted onto her body as if it were second-skin, covering most her 5àƒ¢â‚¬â„¢ 2àƒ¢â‚¬â„¢àƒ¢â‚¬â„¢ frame, shielding the wiry muscle and tough bone with itsàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢ light but ample protection that could deflect bullets. Over that was black carrier armor, strapped to her thighs and upper body. They carried her laser batons, charger packs, plasti-steel knives in various lengths, and of course her data-pad which was wirelessly connected to the main NYPD database in lower Manhattan. The carrier armor could also deflect bullets and low-energy laser fire, it was, of course, a female canine and a half to wear being heavy and sweaty. It was, however, imposing. Pinning her badge over her breast and looking at herself in the standard issue mirror of her barracks room, Ann decided that intimidation would have to be enough, she was too tired to actually fight anyone today, and hoped that she wouldnàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t have to.
    Stepping out of her 12 x 5 room and out into the hall of the SAF barracks she noted others leaving their rooms on their way to their shifts or a meal. It was 21:30, she had half an hour till her shift began, plenty of time for a meal in the barrackàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s cafeteria. Though, to call what was actually served there, food required a large and loose interpretation of the truth. Maybe, her partner, Lily would actually show up on time for once.
    Ann walked down the corridor flanked by dozens of black plasti-wood doors that opened into small rooms identical to her own; a bed, sink, mirror and chest of drawers. That was all that the city deemed necessary for its SAF officers, who were supposed to be the best of the worst. Changers who policed the other Changers, pariah to the rest of the NYPD and considered traitors by the free-Changers, the SAF were a family unto themselves. But she was new to this family, only having been recruited, what was it, three weeks ago? Not many of the faces were familiar to her, but she did manage to match some of them to the tidbits of barracks gossip sheàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢d picked up. On her right, the tall black man, like polished mahogany, was Craig, a were-leopard. Tattoos only faintly darker than his own skin glistened along his forearm, dancing along his strong muscles and the tracery of veins that showed even in relaxation. He leaned against the white wall, dressed in his armor, his arm propping his body up against the doorframe. He bent his fully shaved head, on its muscled trunk of neck, down to talk to a petite lily-skinned redhead, with a head of hair like curly fire, Marianne. Brown freckles dusted her snub tiny white nose, which wrinkled delicately before she through her head back in a laugh. What were they saying?
    àƒ¢â‚¬à…àƒ¢â‚¬à‚¦ of course you can come up and visit after your shift is over. But what would I do with a big thing like you?àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ She laughed like ice falling into a glass, cool and slippery, dancing over the air.
    Out of the corner of her eye Ann could see Mariàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s hand reach up to touch Craigàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s chest. Mari turned to look at her, and Ann instinctively turned away. Her aunt had always told her, you shouldnàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t let psychs look you in the eye, theyàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢ll see more than what you what them to. Ann walked on, her head down, so as not to attract attention, but with her ears open, for anything. This being how sheàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢d gotten through life. It had worked, mostly. She nimbly dodged around what looked like the beginnings of a fight between Peter and Josephine; two fey whose off-again on-again relationship was legendary for its fights. They were both salamander-fey. It made for interesting arguments. Ann was just glad that the uniforms were fireproof.

    Jogging down the stairs to the first floor, she made a right and entered the large white, room that served as the cafeteria. She grabbed a tray, piled a plate high with the usual institution slop, grabbed a soda and found a seat. She sat down alone, glad for the silence in which to enjoy her meal, not needing to worry about the presence of others, and whether or not she was making a fool of herself. Was it pathetic if she couldnàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t even fit in with the freaks of the world?
    Her introspection was interrupted a smiling handsome face which appeared suddenly in front of her, upside down. She shook her head.
    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Forney, if youàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢ve come over to talk, youàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢re gonna have to do it right side up. Talking to you when youàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢re hanging upside down in thin air gives me a headache.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ The man only laughed cheerfully and floated in the air, turning in a circle until the only thing in front of Ann were a pair of standard issue black, nu-alloy and dura-leather combat boots. She sucked her teeth.
    àƒ¢â‚¬à…And, Iàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢m not talking to your damn boots, either. Get them out of my sight. Iàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢m trying to eat.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ She tucked into her meal, even though what she hoped was chicken tasted like wood pulp, and smelled like drying paint. Ann was never one to waste good protein, her aunt would never have approved of finicky eating habits. With a sigh, Forney lowered himself onto the bench across from Ann.
    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Ann, how am I to get a hold of my fledgling little powers,àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ he paused as her eyebrow, like a crowàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s wing, rose coolly above one eye, àƒ¢â‚¬à… well, perhaps not so little, but indeed how am I supposed to control them if I donàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t practice.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚
    àƒ¢â‚¬à…If you practice anymore, Forney, youàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢ll be able to levitate the entire Canal Street squadron across the Hudson.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ At this the young psych laughed. It was probably something heàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢d considered before. He was always up for a trick, and combined a mischievous mind with far too much power. àƒ¢â‚¬à…You need practice like I needàƒ¢â‚¬à‚¦like I needàƒ¢â‚¬à‚¦àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ Ann dropped her fork in her search of the perfect analogy.
    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Like you need anymore beauty, my precious one? Like you need more stars to adorn the perfect brightness of your eyes? Likeàƒ¢â‚¬à‚¦àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ An indelicate snort interrupted Forneyàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s ramblings.
    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Like you need any more skill at bull****ting. God, I need boots to talk to you sometimes, Forney.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ Ann picked up her fork again, but only pushed the light brown mass around the plate aimlessly. A large but slender white hand stilled her small brown one.
    àƒ¢â‚¬à…You are beautiful Ann Stark, I wish youàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢d believe me.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ Ann sighed, not wanting to repeat what was getting to be an old argument.
    àƒ¢â‚¬à…While my looks wonàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t send anyone gibbering madly into the night, I am not and never have been beautiful. Flattery wonàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t work on me. I know who and what I am.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚
    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Ann, look at me.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ She stared at the congealing goop on her plate. àƒ¢â‚¬à…Look at me.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ She sighed, feeling metal doors of her own making slam closed on certain parts of her mind, she looked up and into his warm brown eyes. àƒ¢â‚¬à…Flattery would be insulting. But the truth isnàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t. You are what you are, but I donàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t think even you know what that is yet.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ Ann searched his long handsome face, with its narrow nose and sharp chin, for any sign of laughter and found none. Could the Joker be playing it straight for once?
    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Is that you seeing the future, oh psychic master?àƒ¢â‚¬à‚
    àƒ¢â‚¬à…If I was looking into the future Iàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢d see you rolling around in my sheets naked.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ Ann laughed loud enough to startle the two officers to her right out of their conversation.
    àƒ¢â‚¬à…You should laugh more, Stark. It turns you into a whole different person.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚
    àƒ¢â‚¬à…I always laugh around you, Forney. Itàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s either laugh or cry at your insanity.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ A cool breeze touched the back of Annàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s neck. She turned to her right.
    àƒ¢â‚¬à…I warned you that Forney was crazy from the moment I introduced you to him, Ann. You only encourage his madness by trying to talk to him like heàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s sane.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ Lily, a tall stunning blond who looked as if the sun hadnàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t kissed her skin in the past century, sat down next to the pair. Forney quickly removed his hand from Annàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s but she already seen it, noted it, and decided to ignore it for now. She could think of worse playmates for her new partner. Lily smiled at a now frowning Forney. She tsked delicately, her smile turning up the sides of her petal-pink mouth to reveal delicate fangs of a milky-white so translucent and pure; they almost glowed in the fluorescence.
    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Donàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t look so downcast, darling. It is only fair that some of us be on to your crazy ways, and warn the little ducks before you cross their innocent little paths.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ Somehow, Lily cultivated a look that said butter wouldnàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢t melt in her mouth. Purity shone out of her cornflower-blue eyes. If anything Forney looked even more unhappy.
    àƒ¢â‚¬à…You, Lieutenant Thompson, make me sickàƒ¢â‚¬à‚, he said.
    àƒ¢â‚¬à…Perfection so often does that to people.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚ Ann laughed, nearly choking around a forkful of chicken. Lily slapped her back cheerfully. àƒ¢â‚¬à…Finish up quick, partner. Our shift starts in ten minutes. And, itàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s something special too. We, and the rest of the 51st squadron, are patrolling the Midnight Market, tonight.àƒ¢â‚¬à‚


    He looked down at the swell beneath her silky, black,...

    Excellent. Beautifully written. I the irony!! Love triangles are the bomb...well in stories at least lol. This makes me want to finish a story I kept starting and quitting. Are you going to add more? I'm dying to know more about Nigel & Jade, the unborn child and how they manage to maintain their love affair out of the open.


    awwww, thank you! you know what? i just may expand it. seems like i can craft a pretty interesting story out of this beginning.


    Well...okay. Just a peek. (FYI: I saw a need for some stuff like dis, so I got on top of it. Oh and sorry bout the edits for the language... I had to try and be kind to the filters cause girlfriend has a pottymouth.)

    Chapter One - Silent Running

    "Stop running!"
    The shout echoed down the dark alley-way. She didn't spare me a glance; she increased her speed, her steps sure even in the darkness.
    "Dro! Dammit Dro stop running! DRO!"
    She was a blur of red dress and jet black wavy tresses. She was getting away from me; the dark seemed to be swallowing her whole.
    "Dro!! DRO COME BACK!!" The first drops of what promised to be a good hard rain splattered down on the all white Air Force Ones I'd just purchased earlier that morning. Even in the dark I knew that by the time I caught up with her; IF I caught up with her, they would be ruined. And I didn't care. My heart was in my throat and the calm that I'd spent over half my life perfecting was sliding away - into panic, anger and frustration. Into fear. I, Derryck James, was afraid. I was so afraid, I was chasing the one woman I needed to protect down a dark alley, yelling for her to come back to a place that was as safe as a pit of vipers. Begging her to come back to me.
    "Please Dro," I whispered to myself, forcing my legs to keep running, my hand creeping next to my sports bra: the place the 357 had been sleeping for almost a year. "Please come back."

    Verse 2
    "C'mon Derryck...hook a brother up. I know you got it. You retired, nucca. You ain't even 30 and you retired. And you sittin' down there by yo'self in that big azz condo with that big azz Denali truck, with them big azz pockets... help a brotha out. That's all I'm sayin'."
    I took a deep breath and rolled my eyes. My brother was always needing a hook up. In five years of college, he hadn't managed accomplish anything but become the world's oldest junior and perfect the art of begging for books and money from me.
    "Staece, why should I help yo' azz? Man, call Cameron or mom dukes."
    "You know mom ain't giving me no cash. She just paid tuition. And Cameron ain't talkin to me."
    I leaned against the wall, Treo pressed to my face, one Timberland tied and the other one waiting patiently for my attention. Cameron wasn't never talking to Staece. She wasn't never talking to my azz either. She was too high on her horse to deal with us "heathens".
    "Staece, what makes you think I got bread to spare?"
    "Jack told me you sent her some cheese the other day. C'mon, Derryck. Hook your only brother up."
    I made faces at the phone I wished he could see.
    "Jack need to keep her mouth shut. I gave her that money cause she passed all her exams."
    "Yeah, lil' Jack is makin' mad grades at that private school."
    "I wish big Staece would make mad graduation invitations appear in my mailbox."
    "I'm doing it. I'm doing it. Damn. It's just taking me some time."
    "Oh, fa sho." Staece was gonna be older than Methuselah before he graduated.
    "You retired now. You don't know what it's like to have a bunch of sh!t that need to be done all the time..."
    The short fuse lit.
    "You know why I'm retired too, Staece, so don't act like it ain't what it is. I'm not retired by choice. And I wish you would stop throwing that sh!t in my face."
    Quiet filled the cell space between us.
    "I'm sorry Derryck. You know I got your back on that. You did the right thing. F#$! everybody that don't like it. You a hero girl."
    The fuse went out.
    "To you, Stace. To you. But it's cool. It's done. And yeah, I'll send you some bread. But that's it. I don't want to hear you on the end of my phone again unless you talking bout Graduation. Cool?"
    "Cool. Thanks Derryck. I owe you."
    "I'll never see that. Gone."
    The line went dead and I paid my shoe some long overdue attention. I had someplace to be and chatting with my baby brother Staece (yeah, Stacy with a swirl - my moms was clowning) James wasn't gonna get me there any quicker. I was headed for the airport, but not for travel. My last tropical escape to Hawaii had separated me as far from my luggage as the East was from the West. They'd finally found it and bout damn time - my brand new Jordanàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s were in that bag (hopefully).
    As I slid into my jacket, the voicemail icon on my phone popped into view and chimes went off. Ignoring it, I looked at the call I'd missed in the milliseconds it'd taken me to tie my shoe. Veronica... my ex. Shiiiit. Not today. I had enough problems. Like how I was going to make it to the bank and the airport before the traffic got crazy. Like why after almost a year of retirement, the last number I thought I'd ever see had popped up in my phone five times the night before. Like why I had this sick suspicious feeling that I was going to regret not answering it.

    Verse 3
    She was being followed. She knew she was being followed. She'd been followed every step of her journey. From the layovers in Houston and Denver to the moment she's arrived at her final destination. She was being followed, quietly, closely and it wasn't for anything good.
    She clutched her Cole Haan close to her and swerved through the crowd of people flooding the airport. She'd known this wasn't going to work. To hell with what they'd said. All their plans and schemes and phone calls. And for what? So she could be killed in a better venue? She'd left what she could trust to come to someplace where she was very much on her own. An open target.
    Her brown eyes shifted from corner to corner, trepidation sliding down her spine. No, it wasn't their style to just take her out like that. That would mean far too many witnesses. They'd rather steal up behind her and guide her quietly out of the airport, where one day (maybe) some unlucky soul would stumble up on her mangled remains stuffed in a Nike duffle bag behind Wal-Mart.
    "Okay, you are tripping. Stop it, Andromeda." She whispered the words to herself, yet she knew she'd increased her pace from an unsuspecting stroll to a hurried walk. Her tan flared skirt whipped around her long, brown legs and she clutched the oversized bag closer to her, trying to virtually disappear behind the thing.
    And then her gaze wandered to a man who just happened to be doing nothing a little too well. He snapped his paper shut as she passed, let her get ahead a few paces and then smoothly, stealthily blended into the group of college students immediately behind her bragging on their trip to Hawaii; how many hook-ups they'd had there, how many shots so and so had taken before she'd fallen off the bar, and who had the best drinking bruises. (The girl who'd fallen off the bar was winning.)
    She willed her heart to stay in her chest, and picked up speed, swerving toward the baggage claim. A quick glance behind her showed him dogging her steps. She abandoned all pretense of walking and broke out into a full run. Skipping steps in stilettos, she bolted down the escalator and around the corner - and smack into something tall and solid gripping a suitcase like a long lost friend. They stumbled, both barely avoiding a collision with the floor. The suitcase went sprawling and a strong hand gripped her arm; the other wrapping protectively around her waist. She saw nothing but dark brown eyes and a gray baseball cap tilted above her. The words tumbled out of her mouth.
    "Hide me. Please. Hide me."

    Verse 4
    "Hide me. Please. Hide me." It was no more than a desperate breathy whisper, but I got it and it kicked in, even after a whole year of peace and tranquility. I whipped her around the nearest corner and blending with the steadily expanding crowd of baggage seekers, steered her toward the elevator; my mouth covering hers as if I hadn't seen her in a month of Sundays. Her body tensed and shook, but she leaned into my kiss, wrapping her arms around my waist.
    "Dammit," I mumbled, pressing her against the wall, my free hand furiously smashing on the elevator button.
    "I waited a whole month for that damn luggage. Babygirl, I don't know you, but I think you owe me some Jordanàƒ¢â‚¬â„¢s."

    See... just a peek.


    Chapter One - Silent Running"Stop running!"The shout echoed down the...

    okay, i'm sucked in....this is good! i mean, really good! wow.....is this from your book? it's pretty awesome. i love the names of the characters too. hotness right there girl.


    Thanks writer friend! This is from a series that is about five books long (hopefully) and one of the first ones I'm due to self-publish. (Cross fingers.....now!)
    I've read so much good stuff in this thread. Girl, you got talent. Let's work on the dream. Cause I SWEAR I wanna quit and write full time. Boy oh boy.



    ^^^ thank you lady....you do too! we should do a book tour together when we finally get our careers established. lol.



    i'm just wonderin
    i'm just still wanderin...

    tryin to evaporate the tears of the fears of the past
    years elapsed
    grasped the sense of imperfection, asked myself
    why did i think to cry
    instead of flowin w/ tides of time?

    a river i thought i produced misused logic and became nostalgic of an old settled me
    but see
    something pleaded w/ me to flee from being free b/c
    ne ga tivity
    is so riveting.

    chose to inhibit self-discipline so the learning process was
    choked, a
    token of self-pity
    broken pieces so gritty so that
    each itty bitty tidbit of i...
    rose to the sky...
    as it evaporated w/ the past.

    who am i now?



    mzunyque: YES Girl!!! I am for it. It would probably be killer on the Bestseller Lists!



    "How is my little king doing? You feel alright? He...

    MzUnyque, that was the bomb-diggity. It totally drew me in and I truly wasn't expecting that twist.

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