The first draft is just you telling yourself the story. ~Terry Pratchett
Duck Egg Blue
A short story...
Prologue
"Brooklyn! Why the fuck is my car at this bitch's house?" Blake's scream was so piercing Brooklyn had to hold the phone away from her ear.
Brooklyn's blood turned to ice. Her younger sister never swore and she never used her full name unless trouble was visiting. "Blake calm your ass down," Brooklyn whispered roughly into the phone. "You better not be at that girl's house!"
Crying now, Blake explained. "Brooke, I thought about what you said earlier...about how Chad would never stay out of town without letting the kids know." Brooke struggled to keep up. "So, I drove by this bitch's house and my car is parked right in front of her apartment! Come over here right now!"
"I'm on my way." Brooke didn't need Blake to tell her where she was—she knew exactly where she'd be. Brooklyn tossed a few directives to her staff, grabbed her bag and keys and ran out of the door, headed to Sonny's house. Her brother-in-law's mistress. If she could have had any idea what was about to happen, Brooklyn would have stayed at the office and never answered the call. She was headed for the shock of her life.
Copyright ©2015 dmillener
Prologue
"Brooklyn! Why the fuck is my car at this bitch's house?" Blake's scream was so piercing Brooklyn had to hold the phone away from her ear.
Brooklyn's blood turned to ice. Her younger sister never swore and she never used her full name unless trouble was visiting. "Blake calm your ass down," Brooklyn whispered roughly into the phone. "You better not be at that girl's house!"
Crying now, Blake explained. "Brooke, I thought about what you said earlier...about how Chad would never stay out of town without letting the kids know." Brooke struggled to keep up. "So, I drove by this bitch's house and my car is parked right in front of her apartment! Come over here right now!"
"I'm on my way." Brooke didn't need Blake to tell her where she was—she knew exactly where she'd be. Brooklyn tossed a few directives to her staff, grabbed her bag and keys and ran out of the door, headed to Sonny's house. Her brother-in-law's mistress. If she could have had any idea what was about to happen, Brooklyn would have stayed at the office and never answered the call. She was headed for the shock of her life.
Copyright ©2015 dmillener
A Rhythm of Love
A poem...
Our passion is thunder and lightening. Booming, crackling, fighting. Competing to match the rhythm of the rain.
A fierce strike, you leave pain. An earth-shuddering boom, I smother your soul with fear that I'll leave. Again.
But the rain hasn't come. The tears haven't fallen. The rage is too intense. But it's quiet, subtle, gripping, calling.
The tension is rising. The clouds become fuller. The sky gets darker. Your heart keeps pulling. Rain? Go. Stay? The storm is looming. Decide. Trust. Stay. Go. The storm is brewing.
But I don't go. I can't go. There's humidity but no rain. Your essence makes me stay. What is thunder without lightening? A rainbow without rain?
Then, I ease along your journey as you lead me to my summit. Je coulerai avec votre univers, pulling you deeper, holding tighter until we plummet.
You let freedom reign. Your lips dance over then caress my soul. It's unbearable. It's necessary. Entangled paradoxes making me whole.
Tasting your sweetest taboo is more than my heart can bare sometimes, but I do. To walk away forever is an oxymoron. God knows I can't be without you!
Our passion is thunder and lightening. Booming, crackling, fighting. Competing to match the rhythm of the rain. Fire. Ice. Ecstasy untamed.
A rhythm of love. A rarity in all its form.
You're my heat. My fire. The calm after our thunderstorm.
Copyright ©2010 dmillener
Our passion is thunder and lightening. Booming, crackling, fighting. Competing to match the rhythm of the rain.
A fierce strike, you leave pain. An earth-shuddering boom, I smother your soul with fear that I'll leave. Again.
But the rain hasn't come. The tears haven't fallen. The rage is too intense. But it's quiet, subtle, gripping, calling.
The tension is rising. The clouds become fuller. The sky gets darker. Your heart keeps pulling. Rain? Go. Stay? The storm is looming. Decide. Trust. Stay. Go. The storm is brewing.
But I don't go. I can't go. There's humidity but no rain. Your essence makes me stay. What is thunder without lightening? A rainbow without rain?
Then, I ease along your journey as you lead me to my summit. Je coulerai avec votre univers, pulling you deeper, holding tighter until we plummet.
You let freedom reign. Your lips dance over then caress my soul. It's unbearable. It's necessary. Entangled paradoxes making me whole.
Tasting your sweetest taboo is more than my heart can bare sometimes, but I do. To walk away forever is an oxymoron. God knows I can't be without you!
Our passion is thunder and lightening. Booming, crackling, fighting. Competing to match the rhythm of the rain. Fire. Ice. Ecstasy untamed.
A rhythm of love. A rarity in all its form.
You're my heat. My fire. The calm after our thunderstorm.
Copyright ©2010 dmillener
The Sweetest Taboo
A poem...
The words you speak are the sweetest taboo. They mesmerize my heart and give my spirit the light, darkness receives from the moon.
The whispers you breathe into the air towards me are the loudest silence the wind blows this way. The distance in our hearts connected by fantasies we keep locked, deeply away.
In another life, time will stand still so our bodies may finally join. The chemistry that will ignite and flow between us will result in two souls conforming to one. Won’t it?
For now, listen as the ocean's tides cover the echoes of our storm. They ricochet off rocks crashing along the shore. Later, not now, we’ll hear poetic justice sentencing us to eternal love—eternity, forever, always, ever more.
Apart we signify shadows—dark clouds of emptiness forming, foggy, building a haze. But when we're together our shadows become images of reality – of a tabooed love our hearts so passionately claim.
So look for me out over the ocean, and listen for my whispers to rise from the bottom of the sea. When you walk along the shore, reach behind you, in your hand, mine will be.
Copyright © by delmetria millener
The words you speak are the sweetest taboo. They mesmerize my heart and give my spirit the light, darkness receives from the moon.
The whispers you breathe into the air towards me are the loudest silence the wind blows this way. The distance in our hearts connected by fantasies we keep locked, deeply away.
In another life, time will stand still so our bodies may finally join. The chemistry that will ignite and flow between us will result in two souls conforming to one. Won’t it?
For now, listen as the ocean's tides cover the echoes of our storm. They ricochet off rocks crashing along the shore. Later, not now, we’ll hear poetic justice sentencing us to eternal love—eternity, forever, always, ever more.
Apart we signify shadows—dark clouds of emptiness forming, foggy, building a haze. But when we're together our shadows become images of reality – of a tabooed love our hearts so passionately claim.
So look for me out over the ocean, and listen for my whispers to rise from the bottom of the sea. When you walk along the shore, reach behind you, in your hand, mine will be.
Copyright © by delmetria millener