Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Tuesday Tales is a Stiff One

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! This week our group writes to the teasing word, stiff. So, here we go from Steal My Heart, a new WIP for a new series.



“I’ve got an idea, if you’d like to hear it.”

“You’re going to tell me the idea anyway. Whether I say I want to hear it or not.” Mom’s idea of dealing with life ranged from grassroots granola hippie methods to some of the most high tech advances in science. The eclectic way my mom approach life usually amused me. Today she sparked a bad nerve.

“How about a self-defense course?”

“You mean those classes we usually made fun of? You know the women that put themselves into helpless situations and we couldn’t figure out why they’d be doing that shit in the first place. I know to have my keys ready to unlock my car before I walk out of the store. I know to be aware of my surroundings. I know not to be in strange places after dark. Common sense trumps most of what they teach.”

“Oh I’m not talking about those run-of-the-mill self-defense common sense classes. I’m talking about jujitsu, krav maga, that sort of thing. I'd do it with you. It’s great exercise, amazing stress relief, and I believe it would be empowering.”

“I don’t know.” My standard response slipped out of my mouth so casually. However the wheels inside my brain began turning about the possibilities. She had such a simple suggestion, I’m not sure why we 'd never done it before. Especially seeing all the gruesome things people do to one another in the course of the job. “I guess it would enhance my pepper spray.”

“You could be your own deadly weapon. Like Chuck Norris.” Mom pulled a stiff-arm move.

“I’m not sure I could be feared as much as the great Chuck Norris. Not with my spaghetti arms anyway.” I lifted my arm to make a muscle, and realize just how much weight I’d lost. “Why didn’t you tell me I looked anorexic?”

“I gave you time to start the healing process, while trying to find a way to help you. I think this new regimen would really help, both mind plus body. That prick damaged your confidence when he attacked you, but it isn’t anything that you can’t repaired.”

“I love you, mom. I appreciate you gave me space.”

“Absolutely, I’m your biggest fan.”

“I’ll go with you to talk to someone who teaches this stuff. Let’s check it out before we commit.”

“I’ll get it set up.” Reaching for the chips, mom read my mind. “Now let’s share some chips and dip and talk a little bit about your love life.”

Was she really going to do this to me?
Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of stiff!Tuesday Tales Main Page

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Tuesday Tales Is This S$%T Getting Old?

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! This week our group writes to the complex word, old. So, here we go from Heart Nectar, a new WIP for a new series.



“Loneliness is getting old.” Barely audible, Nixie dropped her head, hiding her face.

“I’m confused, do you mean getting older is lonely or loneliness itself is getting old?” Brant scratched his head, his eyes pleading for understanding. “I’m not trying to be dense. I truly don’t understand what you mean.”

“Ugh, men, boys, anything with a glied, how do you get by every day without self-destruction? Why did I think I could talk with you about…about anything? Next time, I’ll listen to my woman’s intuition and not talk.” Pulling her hair back away from her face, she roughly tied her long hair into a ponytail. “I’ve got work to do, I really don’t have time to sit and cry. What do we owe you for the cow shit?”

“Well, now you don’t have to insult me. You make it sound like something horrible when you say cow shit like that. I prefer to call it fertilizer.” Brant smoothed the front of his hopelessly wrinkled button down shirt. Scuffing his boots against a rock, he continued looking downward. “I’m more than just a shit slinger.” Almost mumbling, any point he attempted to make was lost in the translation of his tone.

“Stop being so sensitive.”

“You’re the one who started talking about loneliness. All I did was walk up to you. What’s a glied anyway?”

“Walking into the middle of someone else’s drama is a bad spot most of the time. I apologize. I wasn’t trying to insult you.” Pursing her lips, Nixie’s frustration greatly took away from the intended sentiment of her apology. “Glied is German for…” Holding back temporarily, she finally replied rapidly. “Penis.”

“Insult me for having a…having a…being a guy or for my job?” Speaking louder, although red-faced, he appeared emboldened by her sudden humility. “You said a whole lot for not putting out very many sentences.”

Tapping her toe, Nixie crossed her arms before she looked upward. Sighing loudly, she lowered her gaze to meet Brant’s. “Why do men act so full of themselves? Tell me that, please.”

“Ahh, okay, sounds like it’s not my job, thank goodness it’s only my humanity, the luck of the draw of chromosomes. Why don’t you tell me why women are so hard to understand? Why aren’t you straight shooters, say exactly what you want instead of hem hawing around?”

“I think this is a world-wide issue, because men are the same in Germany as they are in America.”

“You say men like you know what every single one of us are about. Do you truly know every man in America, or Germany either one?”

“I don’t need to know every man, I’ve met enough and they are the same. They only talk to me until I do what they want, then, they leave.” Quickly covering her mouth, Nixie stammered. “I don’t mean everything. I’m not an easy girl, if you understand me.”

“For a short conversation, we have a ton of miscommunication going on here.” Chuckling, Brant offered a smile. “I don’t think you’re some loose floozy. Then again, I don’t know you very well either.” Teasing tones uplifted the choice of his words.
Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of boredom!Tuesday Tales Main Page

Monday, June 15, 2015

Tuesday Tales, Who Needs a Cozy Setup?

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! This week our group writes to the cozy picture prompt below. We must capture the image in 300 words, no more, no less. So, here we go from Heart Nectar, a current WIP.

“This is my wine.” Sitting beside a warm fire, Carolyn’s insides absorbed the healing properties of the perfectly aged blend. “This is one of my first vintages.”
“The color is superb.” Charles tilted the glass, admiring the legs on the side. “Excellent body as well.” Sniffing the contents, inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes. “Very nice bouquet to match, you just might have your first medal winning bottle.”
“We’re so excited to be part of the competition. It’s our first big show. Of course, we’ve been in some smaller shows. Hopefully, we do well and it gets our brand some exposure.” Nervously tapping the side of her glass, she finally put it on the table. “Thank you for stopping by, I wasn’t sure if you could include me in your schedule.”
“Of course I could fit you in, a lovely woman, roaring fire, and delicious wine, why on earth would I have said no?”
“We haven’t spoken much since high school, people change.”
Charles shrugged his shoulders. “Some people need to change, or they’ll drown in the midst of life’s torrential nature. You and I aren’t those kind of people.” Taking a drink, he swirled the wine around his mouth, looking upward, as if focusing on the ceiling. An over exaggerated move, but, then again, he was trying to impress an old friend. “Where is the vineyard?”
“Our vineyard?”
“Yes, where you grew the grapes. The winery is in the middle of town, so, naturally, I couldn’t see the vines.”
Carolyn settled back further onto the couch. “Our vineyard is young, not yet producing many grapes."
 “So, you didn’t actually grow the grapes in this wine?” Smirking, he put the glass down on the table. “I’m not sure you can actually say this is your own from start to finish.”

Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of this tasty picture!Tuesday Tales Main Page

Monday, June 8, 2015

Tuesday Tales and Why Suffer From Boredom?

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! This week our group writes to the humdrum word, boredom. So, here we go from Steal My Heart, book 4 WIP from The Fantasy League series.


“Since we’re being so honest, I need to ask you something.” I’d wanted to know about her secret offices forever. Finally a dating man, with a fledgling sexual drive, I wanted to branch out with my conversations with a safe friend. “Please don’t make fun of me.”
Definitely not from tedium, Lola flicked her nails against the tabletop, appearing deep in thought. “I want to agree, yet, I don’t want to miss out on a great opportunity to bust your balls. You can see my dilemma.” She laughed, then took another sip of tea. “I’m kidding, dude, ask away. I’m here for you.” Pointing from her chest back my direction, clearly she wanted a challenge.
“What’s in your secret office space?”
Choking slightly, Lola quickly set the tea cup down on the table. “Not wasting any time are you?”
“I assumed it better not to tiptoe, I went straight for the question.’
The tinkling bell on the door sounded again, breaking up our conversation. A girl walked in wearing a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a sling on her arm. If indeed Lesley, she had one crazy idea for a disguise. Since I said “if” that meant I wasn’t even sure it was her?
Maybe not so crazy.
The mystery girl sat with a group of other folks who were already sipping coffee. Retaining the cap and sunglasses, she laughed at someone across the table. I’m assuming they said something funny.
“Someone you know?” Lola squinted trying to get a closer look.
“I’m honestly not sure.”
“Wow, you really haven’t been down into Lesley’s habitat have you?”
“What do you mean down into her habitat?”
“Where she lives, dude. You know, deep inside her inner workings. Her domain, cave, private spaces. It’s not all sexual, either. The space where women get the feels, excitement, joy, all those delicious spices of life. I love it when someone crosses into my habitat, when you reach that level, it’s electric.”

“I think I’d rather die of boredom than have certain conversations with you.” The usual determination or repulsion wasn’t present in my response, my heart wasn’t as offended. Apparently, I’d finally made a lifelong friend, the one I could tell anything to. “Dear Lord…”
Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of boredom!Tuesday Tales Main Page

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Tuesday Tales, Worth a Giggle

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! This week our group writes to the fun word, giggle. So, here we go from Steal My Heart, book 4 WIP from The Fantasy League series.



“Was it worth at least a giggle?” Lesley lowered the tiki mask from her face.

“I’m sorry, preoccupied, I guess.”

“Are you still worried about email girl?”

I had to tell Lesley I planned to meet this mysterious person. Lola and I reached Homeland Security, but, really didn’t get anywhere. I suppose their caseload was too full to deal with wayward terrorist females who may or may not pose an actual threat. “I’ve arranged a meeting.”

Tossing the island inspired mask back on the shelf, she grimaced. “Why are you encouraging this weird freak?”

“Because if I don’t, this could continue forever, I want this over with. Lola promised to be there with me.

“Lola as a bodyguard might not give you the protection you need.”

“Like you said, it’s probably someone busting my chops, and not anything dangerous. Why are you so upset?”

Groaning, Lesley turned away from me, heading down an aisle of paper plates, utensils, and multi-colored tableware. “I’m not upset.” She offered, her words fading as they reached my ears. Something was up.

Watching her walk away prompted something inside me, I couldn’t have her leave. Some protective instinct kicked in and I sped up, meeting her face to face by a random end cap display. “I like you, I really do. I want to be rid of this minor irritant so we can move on to, well, more important things.”

“Like what?”

 



Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of giggle!Tuesday Tales Main Page

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Tuesday Tales....You're a Good Egg...and BACON

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! This week our group writes to a delicious picture. Picture Prompts receive 300 words...so, here we go from Steal My Heart, book 4 WIP from The Fantasy League series.


“I’ve had so many smoothies and granola this month, I’m going back to my roots.”
“It’s okay to cheat every once in a while.” Lesley giggled, taking a bite of French toast. “Goodness knows I do it.”
Staring at a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast, the scent wafted to my nostrils, reminding me of growing up. “My mom used to cook this all the time. We had fresh eggs almost every day.”
Putting her fork down, she made eye contact with me. “Do you miss living in the country?”
“I miss the anonymity and the protection that comes from living in a small town. Although everyone does know each other’s business way more than they should, they also take care of each other.” I hoped she didn’t catch on I was still worried about that stupid stalker email. I was a grown man for Pete’s sake.
“I miss the safety of growing up, having my family around. My brothers wouldn’t let anyone mess with me.” She smiled, then took a long drink of milk. “Now, my muscles are so massive, I can take care of myself.”
“You’re an impressive physical specimen of a female, for sure.” Although I intended that remark to be innocent, I couldn’t deny an undertone of longing in my words. Lesley was beautiful, full of energy and talent. I was on the edge of a helpless situation.
“You’re a rather handsome man yourself, Eugene Carlton.”
I soaked up Lesley’s adoration like a dried out ocean sponge, soothing waters filling me with confidence and happiness. “I appreciate you my friend.”
“What would you say if I asked you out on an honest to goodness date?”
She absolutely knew exactly what I’d say.

How could I miss our dark complexioned admirer hanging on every word we shared?




Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of this delicious picture!Tuesday Tales Main Page

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Tuesday Tales, Only Twenty....

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! This week our group writes to the word prompt, "twenty".   From Steal My Heart, book 4 WIP from The Fantasy League series.

 
"If you come one more step, I'll rip you into twenty pieces."
"Aww, the pretty little girl is tough and sexy. It's my lucky day. Where's your man? Surely, he didn't leave you out here all alone. Or, maybe he's somebody you picked up here at the park?"
"Look asshole, he isn't some stranger, he's my boyfriend." My brain clicked along, thinking of what I'd passed on my way here. Who was out there standing by, what my next move would be? I wrapped my purse strap tighter within my fist.
"I think you and I should get to know each other better. He stepped forward, narrowing the distance between us. Maybe you'll give me some of what you gave him. I like getting all up into someone else's stain."
"God, you're disgusting!" Jumping to one side, I tried to dodge the lunging sociopath coming for me. He grabbed my leg mid-stride. I landed on the ground, close to the bottom of the dumpster. Why the hell didn't people clean up after themselves- trash littered everywhere. My brain tried to take me out of the present, choosing any other thought than this sicko attacking me. I kicked hard with both feet, as if slogging through mud, not aiming for anything but hoping I connected with something vitally painful.
"Don't fight it sweetheart, you're gonna make me feel so good."
"Get off me you piece of shit, leave me alone!"
"That's no way to talk to a fan now is it? He shoved an elbow into my ribcage applying pressure.
The pain of his bony arm in my guts paled to his breath whooshing into my face. I'd thought I'd puke from the raunchy odor. "Get off me, I won't say it again!"
"Good, I don't want to hear it again. Prying my legs open with one knee, he used his other hand to restrain my wrist above my head. How convenient you wear this little skirt and nothing else."
"You wretched son of a..."   Words gurgled from the fear in my throat.



Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of "twenty".