DragonAngel's Stories

How Things Change

2008-04-28T18:31:35Z

Unrequited love from long ago
Begs for a ride on a long forgotten road.

After Hours

2007-07-03T13:40:25Z

Showered, changed, makeup expertly re-applied, Meredith checked that all the windows were closed and locked, shades pulled down, extra food set out for Chip the Polka-Dotted Cat, and stood by the door looking around her apartment.

The only thing out of place this evening were the red shoes she’d worn that day. Impulse made her pick them up and toss them into the overnighter on her shoulder.

They were fantastic shoes. They had just the right height to force her spine straight when she walked, make her legs look like they went sky high and they were sexy enough for her to leave them on when everything else was off.

This weekend didn’t beg for the “right” clothes. But the shoes would be a nice accessory.

Meredith’s eyes sparkled as she locked the door behind her. Everyone said that surprising him was a big mistake. But she knew different.

And she had to hurry before she missed the train.

Rambling Insomnia

2007-07-03T04:50:17Z

Up too late again. Can’t find the muse. Still just this side of midnight. Plenty of time.

What a long, sucky day. Hate Mondays. Too much Garfield. Mondays are always mean to me.

If it was such a long freakin’ day, what am I doing awake long after everyone else is asleep?

I’ve taken care of them, fed them, cleaned their messes, tucked them in with a kiss.

Must read story tomorrow night. Something from Arabian Nights. Wonder how Grimm is doing tonight? Do I dare?

Nah, stick to Disney right now. They’re still young. How young was I when I found the blood and witches of fairy tales?

Poor Dad, thought I was bad. Wonder if my childhood interests scared him? Or was it the thought of his brother’s artistic blood, the genetic make-up that came from someone else, that was hiding in him and coming out in me?

My uncle died poor and alone and still naive.

What morbid thoughts for just before sleep.

Glass of wine brings warm fuzzies. Maybe it will lighten the mood.

Noise from outside.

Something, Somewhere, Comes

2007-07-03T00:37:45Z

Bare feet crack golden leaves. Legs caked with mud tremble. Tattered skirt whips in the winds. Frilly blouse torn to bandage gaping wounds.

One still bleeds leaving a trail of red drops behind.

Dry lips scratch the tongue darting out in a vain attept to hydrate. Golden eyes wide in the darkness. Beads of sweat trickle down a pale temple, coat shoulders and the tops of…

Dark curls fallen. The pins holding them back left behind.

Pounding heartbeat. Ragged breath.

A noise from behind. She whirls.

A scream.

“Cut! Margaret, get to costumes. The sweat has rendered the tape useless. I want to see nipple through the cotton, not above it. Fix it and get back. We have to do it again.”

On Diplomacy in the Future

2007-07-02T18:47:29Z

Lives given in war against double indemnation. Flash forward 200+ years: triple indemnation legal – city, state, federal.

Diplomatic immunity, world-wide tolerance: Flash forward 200+ years: Visiting Emperor, in his country does not lay eyes on women and children that are not his own. Any found in his presence are killed without thought – it’s their belief, their religion, their way.

Myself (student of history, anthropology, need to know burned into my soul), my daughter, our pleasant shopping trip ripped away by our country’s military men shoving us into the upper stories of a building. Urged to silence. “Diplomatic Immunity.”

We hide in darkness. Dust clings to our nice clothes. Parade music and male voices echo songs of welcome to the visiting dignitary.

Can’t help myself. Move to the window, sliding through the darkness, noiseless…

I look down.

Gold embroidered white silk, tall hat – reminiscent of popes.
Dark face: hard, cruel, Pharaoh-painted.

He looks up.

Our eyes meet.

I Didn't Fall

2007-07-02T04:24:52Z

She swam in darkness so thick she could barely breathe. It surrounded her, seeping between her bare toes, sliding beneath her fingernails. It separated each strand of hair, stained the blonde tendrils like ink. This place had no beginning and no end. She struggled for peace. She knew she deserved this, had earned her place. Still, a part of her yearned for escape…

Warm, wet sand beneath her; the sun hot on her bare skin. She caught a glimpse of blue sky and the worried hazel eyes of the man who held her before she rolled over and vomited.

Strong arms held her. Callused hands stroked tangled hair. She pulled away and glared at him.
“Why didn’t you let me die? Her words came out as a scratchy whisper.

“I saw you fall. I had to help.” His voice was deep and soft like velvet.

“I didn’t fall.” She hugged herself as coughs wracked her. The coughing turned into a dry heave. Through it, she managed to say, “I jumped.” Her knees made deep groves in the dark sand. The tide was going out.

Surveillance

2007-07-02T04:09:35Z

She whispers into the recorder hurriedly, her voice rasping in the autumn wind.

Leaves scatter on the concrete and mask her words but echo her voice in the air.

A finger reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear without thought.

Her eyes are wide, afraid.

Her thoughts stop and start, but are recorded in the tiny digital recorder.

Fight Fire With Fire

2007-07-01T23:48:47Z

Imprisoned by consecrated earth shoveled with her own hands decades ago, only her will could set him free.

“Help me, help me, I implore. I need you. Come and save me from this gore. What once was gone can now be found, please, oh please, I need you rise from this ground.”

Beneath the rumbling, she feld his eyes open and strength (even if temporary) surge through his body.

Clawing, grasping, pulling his way up to her, drawn by her urgency…

The earth shuddered. She rolled to the other side of the stone and never stopped whispering the words that guided her will.

Even before reaching the surface he saw her attackers through her eyes, felt fear hiding in her heart, smelled her blood, tasted her soul…

He rose from the earth in one fluid motion, dirt darkened his blonde hair, masked his pale skin from face to fingertips…roots ripped at his clothes.

He roared, unable to contain the raw emotion of the past and the rage that anyone would dare threaten what was his.

He lashed out…

River's Touch

2007-07-01T19:05:46Z

The fragrance of the mighty river’s mud, fish and cool water on the wind, she stood on the hilltop with her eyes closed.

A cold hand touched her back. She hadn’t heard the crunch of footsteps through the leaves.

She whirled, eyes wide, the world around her receding into background and the smell of the river fading to mud and decay.

Familiar grey eyes greeted her, absent of the passion from the night before. Dark brown hair slid down his forehead and tangled with his lashes.

His touch, electric in the night, dead in sunlight, centered on her chest and pushed.

Arms flailed…reaching…grasping…nothing. The river’s scent wrapped around her. The water welcomed her. The mud clung, drawing her deeper long after her head sank beneath the surface.

Her only thought was that she should have killed him first.