A Month Of Writing: August 20th 2018

During the Month of August 2018, Each day I Wrote Two pages of fiction in my Travelers Notebook. Here are some of the extracts.

August 20th

The sound of the alarm on my phone grow loader as it danced on the work surface of the kitchen, woke me.

Slowly rolling on to my back. Regretting having drunk what ever I had had last night. Pulling myself up off the floor wondering weather I had chosen to sleep on the floor or if I had passed out. Stopping the alarm looking at the bottle of lemon aid and vodka siting on the breakfast bar, wondering where I got the vodka from, as it was not something I drank, but the lemon aid, I’ll happily have that now. Reaching for the bottle I then noticed that there were two glasses sitting beside the glass bottle of drink. 

Who was I drinking with last night? looking around my studio.

My jumper felt itchy, hot and claustrophobic, pulling it off over my head the burning scratching feeling shot over my arm and over my body. Dropping the jumper on the floor I realised I had had a tattoo on my arm. still read and swollen, fresh. “what the fuck?!” “how the hell?…. What the hell?” Talking out load to myself for no one to hear. Looking at my arm wondering what this strange design meant? Where did I get it done?… And why didn't any of my friends stop me.?

Taking a photo of my arm and turning on my computer I put the photo in to a group chat on Facebook with the friends that I had been out with the night before, asking all the question that I had. And turned to some tattoo and Wiccan chat rooms, posting the photo in hope someone might no what this symbol meant. before heading to the bathroom for a hot shower.

Sat at my computer with wet hair, mug of coffee, a glass of water and pain killers I looked at the messages on face book.

Jamie: “Did you wake up at yours or his?”

Me: “mine and who is or was he??”

Emma: “the cute guy in the suit”

Me: “What! I don't remember him?? I was to drunk!! Why didn't you look after me”

Jamie: “we did.. we put you in a cab”

Me: “And cute guy in the suit?”

Jamie: “left after you”

Me: “and what about the Tattoo?”

Chris: “What dose it mean?”

Me: “how should I know I don't remember”

Emma: “Meat you at Ginger and White in a hour?”

Me: “ what do you know??”

Emma: “Fuck  all of you”

Nice friends I thought taking a sip of the coffee. changing tabs to one of my computer to the chat rooms.

white witch: “Nice tat. where you get it?”

Solo eater: “Got any other tats ;-)”

sisters 3: “what dose it mean?”

Dark arts queen: “Nice work where you have it done?”

Red Witch: “looks like something Viking”

Dark arts queen: “@RedWitch no looks Pagen.”

The same response over and over along with some slightly perverted comments.

then one court my eye.

The True Dark One: “I recognise it give me a moment….”

Then another message popped up with a link.

The True Dark One: “ Https.www.Universityoxford/lostcityjunglearchitecture Page 5 last photo”

For a moment I hesitated. the link was for a University web site. I clicked on it and it took me to a published paper form a professor on an ancient abandoned city and its architecture I scrolled down to page 5 and to the last photo. It was of a wall and pillars with faded carvings on the was of people surrounded by what looked like flames. I looked at the picture but I saw nothing. Picking up the pack of pain killers and taking two out I laid them on my computer and reached for the water, picking up on of the pills I knocked the mouse pad and the screen zoomed in.

There it was. The chiseled symbol that now was inked on to my arm, carved in to the ankle of the female figure. I zoomed back out to read the note under the picture.

“The image is believed to be depicting their version of the devil his human wife. Whom he marks. She constantly runs form him Scared of his love and power. Each time she dies her reincarnates her, so they can full in love again until she stops running from him and they can live and rule Earth and hell together”

Looking at the chat room tab “New message”

I went back to look.

The True Dark One: “Looks like he’s found his wife in this life time.”

A coffee at the Ginger and White was not going to be strong enough to help this shit…

A Month Of Writing: August 17th 2018

During the Month of August 2018, Each day I Wrote Two pages of fiction in my Travelers Notebook. Here are some of the extracts.

August 17th

“Usual” asked the girl behind behind the counter. 

“please” he responded with a smile and pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.

“hows it been today” he asked the other girl as she began to put together his sandwich.

“been busy, enjoying the quite time before it picks up at around 4’ish”

“fair enough” He looked around the cafe with a dozen or so tables with only 6 people sat eating and drinking. His eyes stopped at the table in the corner by the window, where a girl sat with a plate with a half eaten cake and an untouched cup of coffee. She sat scribbling in a notebook franticly, passionately.

“She’s been here for nearly two hours, thats her second cup of coffee that she hasn’t touched.” said the girl placing his late on the try.

“Is she a regular?”

“Nope.. what ever she is writing has got to be important. my be she’s a student.”

As he watched her putting words on the paper, then flicking back through pages and crossing through words, lines. she pushed her hair off her face tucking it behind her ear. He suddenly realised.

“I know her.” His stomach tightened with that thought. He recognised the ring, the tattoo on her arm.

“You should go and say hi. Make sure that the pens not running out” smiled the other girl, placing his bacon and egg roll on the tray.

It couldn't be her. could it? It had been so long. Maybe it wasn't her? May be he was wrong?

“No that wouldn't be a good idea.”

Suddenly she stopped and jumped up startled. knocking the coffee of the edge of the table. She stared straight at him shocked at seeing him. She grabbed the notebook and quickly left.

“I think she remembers you”

He watched her leave and stared at the door after her. It was her, he could not believe it. He thought he would never see her again considering. But here she was still the same after 300 years. 

A Month Of Writing: August 2nd 2018

During the Month of August 2018, Each day I Wrote Two pages of fiction in my Travelers Notebook. Here are some of the extracts.

August 2nd

Swinging from the chandelles, high on Champagne on ice

A ballroom floor of black and white tiles littered with black, sliver and purple balloons and glitter and streamers the same. 

While musicians play a lively beat with drums and sax, guitar and keys. The grand piano taking centre stage.

As guests as dressed up in black, purple and green, laugh and dance and jest. as glasses kiss and lovers caress. Hand in hand they move throw the crowds. For a privet corner, for a secret kiss.

A table out stretched. Nearly as long as the room, laid in purple, and red with a marvellous spread. Roosted hog, beef and quail. Roasted veg, steamed corn and jugs of ale.  Rich velvet chocolate cake and fruits from across the seas.

A Champagne fountain takes centre place, glasses staged high each filled… Devine.

A jester on a ladder empties another green bottle while another hand hands hime another.

While a group gathers round waiting for a glass of Champagne from on high. 

A figure dressed in black and green and mask to match. Purple ribbons hang from its stick to match the ribbons with in her hair. 

Stands alone and watches the chandelles that hang above their light and reflection captured in the mirrors in the celling above. 

Gold gilded frames, frame each one and cast painted sculpture hang between each one. 

As she watches the guests dance and sway on the checkered ceiling refection so high. 

Her broken thoughts last and slip away with the touch of a hand on hers as he leads her a way.