Love potions. Such a waste of time. Mr. Heartsick sitting in front of me is starting to ramble. I can’t concentrate. I let him drone on about her freckles and hair and how her giggle makes his chest constrict. When he’s done I’ll give him my speech about how love potions cause a temporary infatuation that slowly fades out, and he won’t listen to a word. He’ll give me almost as much of his attention as I’m giving him my own now. The truth is his only thoughts will be of basking in her infatuation and not a thing about what he needs to do to maintain it. And the truth is that right now. The only thing I’m thinking about is getting a hold of Ty and how quickly he can get me a fix.
As he wraps up his pain-stakingly detailed description of his fair maiden I grab a rose quartz bowl. In goes some cinnamon, vanilla, and cloves. I add some powders that I keep premixed. Dragon’s milk. Rose petals. And just as he becomes too caught up in my ritual to remember every single eyelash he’s ever pulled from her cheek and told her to wish upon, I get to the histrionic part of the show. A single drop of fae blood. Translucent and slightly iridescent. His breath catches as it hits the milky surface. It’s instantaneous. The contents of the bowl turns pale gold and shimmering. It’s liquid light. I fill a vial, and his hand reaches before I’ve even got the cork in.
“I need you to know that this will not cause love. This will keep her infatuated for about a week. The infatuation will slowly fade. You need to have a plan to gain her interest during the time of this infatuation. Help her fall for you. Do you understand?”
He shakes his head and grabs too quickly. I let him leave, though I doubt he has any plan. She won’t fall in love. He’ll sneak her some liquid love into her tea or her wine and become so caught up in her sudden unyielding interest that he’ll never do anything to keep her around.
I’m spent, and I need a hit. I convince Ty to stop by and then knock out while I’m waiting. I wake to his cool hand on my forehead. He looks concerned but also tired. His soft, bright eyes are concentrated frustration with the slightest trace of relief. I miss when those eyes shone with love for me, and I can’t help but feel disappointment in everything I’ve become.
“Mia...Damnit. I thought you said you needed to replenish potion supplies...I thought you were off the coal...”
I think about lying. He won’t believe me, but he might give me enough to make it through the night without the shakes and the sweats. I’m weighing my options when he pushes me off his lap and makes for the door.
“Ty, wait! I have enough for work, so I just need enough for the night. If I could just get like a coin then it’ll make the dreams easier on me...”
“I didn’t bring any. I’m no fool, Mia. You aren’t using five coins a week of fae blood making love potions, which seems to be all you’re selling anymore...”
I can’t believe him. He’s pacing the kitchen clearly unsure of what to do with me. I knew that he probably suspected that I was still using fae blood, but I figured that he was playing along to avoid putting me through having to say it.
“If you want me to stay I can. I can talk you through the dreams. Give you dragon’s milk so you sleep. I can help you relax through them. Help with the shaking. I miss you. I hate to see you stuck on this...”
“Can you go now? I have other plans tonight anyway. I don’t need you to make me feel guilty or judge me.”
I know he’s not trying to do either, but I need him to leave. He looks defeated. He gives me a quick, hurt nod. I walk him to the door. Our hands meet accidentally at the knob, and I see his face tighten. A quick kiss on my forehead and he’s gone.
If Ty won’t help me I have only one other option. I have to go to Callie. The lowest of the low. She’s a disgusting creature. A pixie that feeds off her own kind. It’s bad enough for us witches that are addicted to fae blood, but at least we aren’t spilling our own magic for fun. Maybe for profit or for spells sometimes. But I’d never dream of using another witch’s blood. Not to mention that the mere fact that she is an addict suggests she was doing something unsavory to cause her to get a taste for the drug.
I toss my cigarette out as I hit the buzzer for her apartment. The smell of rotting fruit drifts up to her front door from the alley, and I am torn between wishing she’d buzz me in and hoping I never have to see her again. I hit the button again three times in quick succession and almost immediately receive the sharp click of the door unlocking. The speaker must be out on the intercom. No surprise in this hovel.
“Mia. What’s up, babe? I like your hair dark like that.”
“You gonna let me in then?”
I push past her into the dark apartment. Her power must be out. This small studio is a fire hazard at the best of times, but right now it’s filled with smoke and what looks to be every candle the south side of the city holds. She’s close behind me, so I steal myself for whatever she might ask for in return. She’s horrid, but she’s also smart. My eyes are dilated, and I’m sweaty despite the cold. Not to mention that with her being a pixie she can probably smell me detoxing.
“You’re gonna let me do what I want with you, right, love?” My hand is on the nape of her neck, fingers wrapping through her lilac hair. I whisper into her pale clavicle, and I feel a small shock course through her skin. She leans into me, and I can tell this is going to be easy. I grab her hair hard and push her to the mattress on the floor. An hour or so of my hands and mouth violating her until she’s breathless and disoriented. I let my fingers slowly trace the small, crescent moon birth mark on her hip. She’s calm as she breathes out a light, approving sigh letting me know that we’re even.
“There’s needles and bowls on the mantle, but this time can you take enough so that I can drop too?”
I nod to her, but inside I’m nauseous. She’s going to drop her own blood? I’m no longer sure she’s a safe resource. She’s always disgusted me, but this is low even for her. I’ve never met a junkie using their own blood. Blood releases magic. The more you spill the less the being contains. The more you spill the more you have to use next time. At some point…you only have so much magical blood.
I pull a syringe full from her spidery, glowing veins and empty it into a crystal bowl. I drop the bowl into one of the larger candle’s flames. The smell is intoxicating. Sharp, biting citrus with sweet, sticky sugars clinging to the edges. The blood coagulates, no longer beautiful and iridescent but a matte black mess. I grab a dropper and it takes every bit of restraint I have to feed Callie first. I kiss her mouth open and then let a single drop slide onto her tongue. She smiles and lets her eyes flick upwards as she crashes into easy sleep. I pull the rest out and fill a vial from my bag I left near the front door. Then I take my drop. And suddenly everything is easy. Suddenly Callie isn’t such a disgrace. With her translucent skin and her pastel hair she’s actually quite lovely. I drift into sleep. And I don’t remember a thing.
He is questioning his own power while standing with a gun in his hand
pointed at another man
who repeatedly shouted "Pull the trigger! Pull the trigger!"
He honored his demands and pulled the trigger.
The only powerful of the two, was the one that controled his own death. The other one was just a doubting man.
I have a thousand words to say
But none come to my lips
To speak of things that hold my thoughts
And let my morals slip.
There is a boy
A man indeed
Who makes my heart revive
And deep beneath the sheets
To make my body feel alive.
His fingers run the length of me
His eyes hold to my gaze
His lungs take in the breath I breathe
The him that holds me in embrace.
The words that echo
From his mouth
Play music in my ear
That races down
Throughout my veins
And fill my soul with fear.
Not fearful of the things he’ll do
Or fearful of the way he loves
Not fear for how he looks at me
But fear of what is next to come.
It’s been so little
And yet so long
Since he first caught my eye
Blessed with the kiss of death
The him that brought me back to life.
Summer of Novel Writing Update
Hey everyone. Sorry I haven't posted anything in a while. For the past few weeks I have been under the weather due to my allergies acting up. Throat infection, ear infection, constipation, headaches, sneezing...Ugh! Writing was impossible. Anyway, I hope to post soon. Hopefully, your summer is off to a better start than mine. Stay Bless!
After Sex Talks
there's a mirror near the bed
that reflects her naked back.
she's looking at the balcony,
telling me about her past.
she tells the story of her scars
as I trace her healing skin,
hope my kisses would sing to her,
how she's still beautiful within.
she tells of her bitter youth,
forcing down the sour taste,
of her failures and shortcomings,
and imperfections on her face.
she tells me of her insecurities,
and how a skirt-wearing demon
would remind her she's not enough,
until she wakes up crying at dawn.
she looks at me, and it was my first,
seeing her so vulnerable and lost.
she laughs and cries and says sorry,
that she didn't know what came over her.
I told her I'll be right here with her,
a promise set in stone. I pulled her close.
and she hugs me back, tells me I'd better be,
"You're the only one I've ever told."
This is on the perspective of the soulmate.
World of the Clones (Preface)
January 1, 4570
My name is Kade. I was always told to keep a journal and if I’m being honest, this isn't my first attempt at writing in one either. I never know how to start or where to begin. So I’ll start from the beginning. This journal will be put inside of a satellite. By the time you read this, said satellite will have traveled for eons through deep space in search of any intelligent life that exist in the universe. If you can read this, then we have succeeded in our mission. (For the sake of time I will mostly assume that your species is around the same level of technological advancement as mine was.) Anyway, here it goes….
...A long time ago original humans, our ancestors, went extinct because they ignored the constant heating up of Earth’s climate. (Earth is our ancestral home planet) They did this despite knowing these effects were being driven largely by their own activity. However, right before they went extinct a man who went by the name Aaquil collected the DNA of him and five others. A group now known as the Last Six. He placed the DNA in vitals and loaded them on a spaceship filled with as many books as possible. The ship traveled at warp speed throughout the universe until it came across a livable planet now known as Delmira. It was on this planet that the first clones were born. However, something went wrong with the cloning process. So now every human who currently exist, is a clone of the Last 6. All two billion of us on Planet Delmira, are clone humans.
We retreat into the world we created inside of my bedroom. We're finally alone together, but it's not like it used to be. I used to be able to just forget everything and get lost in her embrace. The world would fade away, but now it doesn't. It remains outside the locked door, ready to knock.
I've come to expect interruptions. Texts. Phone calls. The doorbell. And everytime she would break away from me. To text back. To answer her cell phone. To peek out the blinds to see who was at the door.
From the start, I knew that I was her secret. I knew that we had to be careful. So, in a way, I guess it made sense for her to check back into her social circle. Still, I couldn't help but feel like I was easy to push aside.
That's why it isn't easy for me to let my guard down. I don't get swept up in her arms. I don't melt into her kiss. I don't revel in the taste of her strawberry chapstick or the scent of vanilla coming off her skin.
It isn't until we're both undressed and in bed that I begin to unravel. There's nothing between us now. No facades. No distance. No clothes. Just us.
She straddles one of my legs. Her curly brown hair falls over her shoulder with the movement. Her hazel eyes are heated. Her face is flushed. Her lips are bruised from kissing. All because of me.
I reach up to caress her face, trying to get a grasp on what she's feeling. Is it only lust? Or is it more than that? My heart aches, yearning for the answer.
Her body speaks, grinding against me with a fervor that makes my mind go numb. All the while, her gaze is locked onto mine, like she's watching me for my reactions. She's got me moaning, but what really gets my juices flowing is the mere sight of her losing control. She wears an expression of estacy, her eyes darkened with lust. Moans spill out of her mouth as she moves against me, her small round breasts bouncing, her tits erect.
The heat builds and builds until it explodes and overflows through me. My body goes stiff and breaks out into spasms as I cum. I can feel her cum on my thigh shortly after.
She falls beside me, beautifully out of breath. I reach out to hold her and she lets me. She's not much of a cuddler, but she indulges me, anyway. I burrow close to her chest, listening to the sound of her heartbeat. Just as I'm about to drift off, I can feel her hold me closer still.
Come morning, she's gone. She didn't leave a note or even a text. The only trace of her left is the scent she left on my sheets and pillow.
I clutch onto the pillow with a heavy sigh. What am I even doing anymore? In my mind, I know that she's only using me as a way to fulfill her secret desires. But in my heart, I'm hoping for something more. I'm hoping for something that she can't possibly give me.
This world of ours won't ever expand past this bedroom. It'll remain small and brittle until it's destroyed by the very fire that created it.
Feminists Save Women
As a woman, I am ever so grateful
Feminists before me, their hearts so full
Perplexed as to why women weren't treated as humans
Fought for us, to stand beside the man
I fight for and with feminists and approve of their message
Because I simply depend on it
And if I ever have a daughter, I'd want her to grow up being a feminist too.