Fuchsia Deviant's Stories

Hope?

2007-10-10T03:22:56Z

This time you nearly did it.

I sit with the pen to the paper, preparing to create my last and greatest work. After all, if it will be the final thing that I ever write, I should go out with a bang, right?

But, try as I might, no words spill from the pen to the paper. I cannot make that first mark. The paper remains empty. In that moment, I realize that I can’t do this.

I haven’t made my mark upon the world. I haven’t gazed upon the mystical monoliths of Stonehenge. I haven’t published my first book. I haven’t recorded my first song. Leave this realm as an unknown?

I can’t do that. At least not yet. So I put the pen down, close the spiral notebook and curl up in my bed. This time, you nearly made me do it. Your hate nearly pushed me to that final, hopeless brink.

I guess it just isn’t my time yet. So, I take my spiral notebook back out and put pen to paper for what will be far from my last composition.

You’ve nearly killed me. Yet, I live to see another day.

The Sky's Gone Out!- a Bauhaus inspired ficlet

2007-10-09T02:01:00Z

I have never wished for darkness with such fervor as I did when the flash of light consumed my entire field of vision.

My back makes contact with a brick wall, at a high speed. The heat is searing, and my flesh rises in first tiny, then large boils. I attempt to scream, but no sound eminates from my throat. As I attempt to peek through fiery eyelids, the whole world turns to glowing orange and hellfire yellow.

I pray for death to relieve me, and I can feel myself slipping, slipping, slipping… into the inky darkness of eternal sleep, brought on by violent means. The blackness has nearly overtaken me, and I am nearly saved…

I sit up in bed, screaming. I am in darkness still, and I point to what I imagine is skyward, and scream, “The sky’s gone out!”

Safe

2007-10-07T21:04:22Z

I stare into his green eyes, and know that it is safe for me to love him.

He’ll never abandon me. He’ll never say venomous words to intentionally hurt me. He’ll never betray me. He’ll never try to control me. He’ll never hurl obscenities at me. He’ll never fly into a rage and hit me. He’ll never threaten me. He’ll never abuse me, emotionally or physically.

My love is finally fail-safe.

I kiss the face on the poster as I have a million times before. My object of adoration will never let me down… all because I love a man I’ll never know.

Musings On The Summer Hill

2007-10-04T03:15:28Z

In the lake, the sky meets the earth in perfect unison. The great white cotton forms of the clouds float along the still mirror surface, undisturbed, seemingly inches from the great gray slabs of rock that rise from the water.

It is the last day of summer, and we lie on the grassy hill, far from civilization and reality. We stare up into the endless blue span of sky, wondering where blue gives way to the eternal blackness of space. Far up, we decide.

There won’t be many more days like this. The mossy grass shall soon shed its green youth and transform to the brown of fall, the mountains will gain white camoflage, and the skies will turn gray. The lake will become cold and in the frost of a frigid night, turn to ice.

Fall will chase the maiden Summer away, and after tempting her to return for a short visit, will carry the old man Winter in on its shoulders. And we’ll sit in warm hearths and wait for the return of the maiden in her junior form, Spring.

But, in this moment, all is warm & perfect.

Ava

2007-10-03T03:05:14Z

My love, it is you that I adore.

I’ve followed you across space and time, from a distant star to a setting moon. I’ve been led blindly and willingly by your promises of eternity, never looking back and never doubting. Many have been born, lived and died, yet I still remain here, at your side. I watch the hourglass, a pale imitation of your form, watching as the sands of time sift endlessly. I, a prisoner with no plan of escape…sitting, waiting, doting on your every utterance.

A goddess in purest form, the beauty in the eye of the beholder, the one with the key, the culprit of the pulled heartstrings…you. As we roam the darkness and prey upon the night, I take your hand and press my lips to your cold skin.

We must never be apart.

We are of the same kind, by my choice and your making. As the passing hours destroy the once vital and turns black to gray and gray to white, they hold no reins over us. The nights become years and the years become millenia.

For you and I, forever is real.

Stjarna- a freewrite dedicated to a Depeche Mode instrumental

2007-10-02T03:34:47Z

Stjarna lies in the glass bed, as the spectators behold her still form. They throw petals from their open windows and rooftops, and they land on the surface of the clear cylinder. Stjarna makes no move or acknowledgment of the adoration of the masses. Her face is a stoic emotionless mask.

Her hair flows in black waves, framing her perfect face. Her hands are neatly folded over her flat abdomen, nails clean and cut. The pale color of her face reflects the gray of the afternoon.

The crowds bow their heads as Stjarna passes. Their love for her is without boundary, only matched by their gratefulness.

Ahead of Stjarna, in a long black car, sits the only man who loves her more than they do. She may be their heroine, but she is his own Valkyrie. As the procession of cars comes to a halt, and Stjarna is carried to the building where another crowd awaits for a glimpse of her, he puts his lips to the glass for a final kiss.

Stjarna may have saved the world, but she couldn’t save herself.

Lillian

2007-10-02T03:16:38Z

To say that Lillian was beautiful was like saying that Bill Gates was kind of wealthy. And, speaking of wealth, Lillian had it.

And all I had was the distinction of being the first in my family to attend a university.

When I fell, I fell hard. My eyes followed her along with the gaze of a thousand would be suitors. They lingered over every curve and every rise of her oh-so-treasured body. With a wink she rose the hopes of men like sunken ships exposed to sunlight for the first time in years. With a scowl she crashed them like a satellite plunging from the heavens.

Out of all of them, she chose me…lowly me, to reenact her favorite game. With a curve of her beckoning finger, I was at her attention. For a day, I was the luckiest man in the entire existence of humankind’s eventful stay on the planet. Then, like a fleeting dream, it was over, and tomorrow held a new plaything, a new game for her.

Once more, I stood on the outside looking in, a spectator to the ascendance of Lillian’s next lucky fool.

Darling Pretty Things, Pt. 1

2007-10-02T02:34:58Z

From the first moment that I saw Dieter Madison, I loved him.

There he was, the proverbial new guy, with a chip on his shoulder and the face of an angel. As our eyes met from across the classroom that first day of our junior year of high school, I knew that he had to be mine. He looked like a perfect combination of Kurt Cobain and the only other man to hold my heart in a vice grip, Martin Gore of my favorite band, Depeche Mode. Then, I saw the DM sticker on his binder.

Needless to say, my faith in destiny was completely affirmed.

So, with a feeling of complete helplessness, I watched as an angry man hauled Dieter into a truck. Before getting into the driver’s seat, the man turned to me. His eyes burned holes through me, and I turned away. As he sped off, I saw Dieter’s head jerk as if he’d been slapped.

The last thing that Dieter said before the man brought his truck to a dead stop where we stood was, “Oh God…it’s my father.”

Dark Entities

2007-09-27T03:35:19Z

I can’t move.

My mind is awake, my senses aware, but my body fails to take notice. I am trapped within myself, a victim of sleep paralysis.

I’m not alone. There is no sound to betray the presence of another being, no creaks or cracking sounds. Only my sixth sense telling me that there is another entity within the sanctity of my room.

The sense grows stronger and more urgent as I feel its presence draw nearer. Inside I am screaming and thrashing my limbs. My body, however, does nothing to respond. My heart beats rapidly within my chest, nearly threatening to make an escape of its own bony chamber.

My eyes finally pop open. However, I nearly faint with fright upon seeing my intruder.

In the dim glow of the moonlight, I see an all too familiar face. However, the features are distorted and discolored. But, ghosts don’t exist, right?

Science may have disproved the existence of ghosts, but they never said anything about demons.

Something has taken on the form of my dead grandfather.

Come What May, Pt. 122

2007-09-17T05:13:29Z

Oliver walks out of the room and grabs his coat. He walks back in and kisses me. “Don’t worry Dream. I’ll be back as soon as possible.” I nod my head, and he kisses me again. “Love you,” he whispers. “I love you too,” I respond. Oliver winks at me, and walks out with Will.

I sit in the bay window, watching him walk to his car. As he reaches his car, he stops, says something to Will, and walks back to the house. He opens the door, and walks over to where I am sitting. Oliver kneels before me and takes my hand in his.

“Dream, I can’t assure you that everything will go smoothly today. Peter might not agree to come back. The band might break up. We might move on without him. Maybe he’ll stay, and things will be tense between us. But, don’t ever feel guilty or responsible for whatever happens. Come what may…you are more than worth it.”

He kisses me, and leaves.

The End

Thank you all for the wonderful comments, especially from you, brokenhearted! I really appreciate it!

Come What May, Pt. 121

2007-09-17T04:42:54Z

I lift my face up from my hands, and look at Will. “Will, did you tell him that you tried to kiss me that day?” Will chuckles. “No way. But when he actually began to talk to me again, he did tell me that he thought that it was me that he had to worry about, not Ollie. He was convinced that Ollie was gay. He never thought he’d end up taking his girlfriend.”

We hear Oliver descend the stairs, and a few moments later he steps into the kitchen. “You’re not down here causing my fiancee’ any trouble, are you?” he says jokingly to Will. “No, just chatting with her, that’s all. Despite all that’s happened lately, I still love Dreamer,” Will responds.

Then he raises his eyebrows. “Wait, did you just say fiancee’?” Oliver takes my hand and holds it up, showing Will my engagement ring. “Yes, we’re engaged. We’ve been engaged since we took that vacation together.”

Will slaps his hand over his forehead. “Oh God. Peter isn’t going to be happy when he finds out about this. He’s not going to come back.”

Come What May, Pt. 120

2007-09-17T04:37:01Z

I roll my eyes. “Will, I don’t want to discuss…”

“No Dreamer, I think it’s a perfectly reasonable question. Why not me? You were the one who said that day in my room that it would be wrong to be with one of Pete’s band mates, yet, you’ve been with Oliver all along. Why him and not me?”

“Will, I don’t know, okay? All I know is that Oliver is the most wonderful human being that I’ve ever known, and that I fell hard for him. I love him much, much more than I could ever explain. Will, you’re a great guy, and god knows you’re attractive, but I just never felt that way about you. It was Oliver who I ended up falling completely in love with.”

Will sighs. “Well, no use musing over it now, I guess. But, you know Peter is beyond upset, right?” I put my face in my hands. “Yes,” I mutter through my fingers.

“Dreamer, Pete really loved you. And he really loved Ollie. You guys have broken him. But, as I myself have made a pass at you, I guess I can’t sit here and judge you two for what happened.”

Come What May, Pt. 119

2007-09-17T04:31:51Z

I wake up to the sound of shower water running in the bathroom. Oliver is already awake. I feel nervous for him. Adam has managed to get everyone to agree to a band meeting, and I’m scared that it will turn into another boxing match. Will is stopping by here first, since Oliver’s house is en route to Adam’s, where everyone is meeting at. I’m planning to stay upstairs. I’m the reason for the possible breakup of the band. Guilt makes me a little antsy about being around them.

I hear the doorbell ring. The cleaning lady opens the door, and a few seconds Iater I can hear Will’s voice from the bottom of the stairs. “Dreamer, are you up there? Please come down for a second. You’re safe with me.”

“Yes, hold on,” I respond. I throw on one of Oliver’s shirts, and walk downstairs. He is sitting in the kitchen, waiting for me. “Hi Dreamer,” he says as I walk in. I sit in the chair opposite him. “Hey Will,” I reply, feeling a bit awkward.

“Dreamer, you know this question is coming. Why Oliver?”

Come What May, Pt. 118

2007-09-17T04:07:51Z

Oliver and I catch an early morning flight out of Australia the next morning. There’s no way we can go back on the same flight as Peter. The tension would have been unbearable.

We arrive in London, and then head to Oliver’s house. It is a spacious mansion with beautiful Gothic architecture and lots of land. “It’s beautiful, Ollie,” I say as we pull up in front of the house. “Thanks. Welcome home…if you like. I know that you’ve got your own place and all, but I’d love it if you just moved in with me.” I smile and trace my finger along his swollen jaw. “I’d love to. I’ll start moving my things here maybe later this week, after we’ve rested up some.”

He sighs. “Now, the big qusetion is what to do about your things at Peter’s place. I could ask Adam to get them for you.” I frown. “I’d hate to get him mixed up in all of this. But, he’s the only neutral party in the band right now.”

Oliver snickers. “What band?”

Come What May, Pt. 117

2007-09-17T03:52:59Z

Peter and Oliver land on the table. Glasses break and silverware flies as they fight. Oliver punches Peter in the nose, and blood spurts onto the white tablecloth. Adam drags Oliver off of Peter, who runs at him again as he regains his footing. Will grabs Peter, who shockingly turns on his heel and punches Will. “You’re no better than him! You wanted her too! Only Adam let me have my girlfriend in peace!” Peter screams.

Wil stands, and flies at Peter. Oliver and two other guys have to separate Peter and Will, which leads to Peter and Oliver fighting again. The celebration has turned into a bloodbath. I’m standing in the middle of the room, screaming for everyone to stop.

Adam manages to pull Peter away from Oliver, and Peter pushes him away. He stands glaring at me, blood pouring from his nose. “You go ahead and be with your precious Oliver. Get someone to get your stuff out of my room. I hope you’re happy.”

He walks to the door. “There’s no way I’ll stay in a band with him. I’m quitting.”