Archive | January 2016

The Crest of Snow and Copper – IV

*** Warning *** Mature content ahead *** My “sort of” erotic piece ***
I’ll be posting this short story in a few installments, weekly. Woukd love to have your feedback on it, pretty please?
Part 4:

In fact, two years since her last relationship. Four, since her first kiss. The girl felt so lame, so inexperienced, so stupidly like a near-depression teenager. She laughed slightly bitterly and turned around once more, ready to give in to her laziness.

And there he was. Standing… well, leaning against her desk, arms casually crossed over his chest. The guy her mind had been going on about ever since she had laid her head to sleep. Surprise, confusion and embarrassment framed her facial features. He looked pleased with that. A bit eager, too.

– How… how did you get in here? – She asked, almost losing her voice. The girl had never been alone with him.

– Door was open. – He stated simply, pointing with his head and slightly looking towards the veranda’s glass door in explanation. – So, technically, you let me in.

– Not so, actually. Unless you go on the habit of walking into every open window or door you happen to pass by, like a sneaky cat burglar. – The girl retorted, with a smirk.

Her voice was back in control, but her mind was racing. So was her heart. The man chuckled.

– Always a snappy retort at hand, heh? I like that.

Hi, y’all!

Pois estive uns dias desaparecida, é verdade! A semana passada estive horrivelmente doente e nem vontade de me mexer tinha. Toda a energia foi para os deveres do dia-a-dia e pouco mais.

Mas agora estou bem melhor e de volta à blogosfera! Contem-me novidades!

I’ve been MIA for a few days, I know! Last week I was horribly ill and harldy even had the will to move. All my energy went to my day-to-day duties e not much else.

 

But now I am quite better and back to the blogosphere! Tell me the news!

 

E sorriam! Smile!

 

 

The Crest of Snow and Copper – III

*** Warning *** Mature content ahead *** My “sort of” erotic piece ***
I’ll be posting this short story in a few installments, weekly. Woukd love to have your feedback on it, pretty please?
Part 3:

While asleep, her mind wandered through the land of dream. She usually wouldn’t remember most of her dreams. Of course this night would be no different. The difference was in what she remembered: not dreams, but intense thoughts of someone she could not really identify. Teasing and being teased with words, little jokes of un-marred and distinct sexual nature she had quite surely had made so many times.
Never had they been taken seriously or actually acted upon, simply laughed off or equally responded, with loud chuckles and cheeks flushed from laughter. Girl talk, at the most: who would get away with going to bed wearing socks just because they were so hot; whose smile was the best; betting on who would be the best kisser and so on. How they laughed, rating girls and boys alike as the group of friends passed them by, walking along the Algarvian seashores. It was all jokes, it was just fun!

She suddenly blinked, awaking for a moment. It was morning already, as the light coming through the window indicated. Quite into the morning, too, as both her mom and stepdad had already left for work – the dog’s presence in her bed proved it so.

“So”, she thought, “it’s past nine for sure. Ah, well, it is summer vacation and nobody has gotten up yet, that’s certain.” Thinking so, she turned around in lazy lethargy. Suddenly, it hit her. The realization of what her sleeping mind had been going on about. To whom those thoughts were directed. That made her feel utterly lonely… and a bit surprised too.

– I am trying too hard to forget how much I feel lonely, maybe… well, in my love life, at least. – she said to herself in a whisper. – It has been a long time, for sure…

The Crest of Snow and Copper – II

*** Warning *** Mature content ahead *** My “sort of” erotic piece ***
I’ll be posting this short story in a few installments, weekly. Woukd love to have your feedback on it, pretty please?
Part 2:

As she got home, all was quiet. Her mother and step-father were asleep for quite a while now and her little dog didn’t even bark. They probably didn’t even expect her to sleep at home, as she had made it a habit of going on spontaneous sleepovers at her friends’ houses.

The girl, in her early 20’s, slipped into her pajamas lazily. Returning from her nightly trip to the bathroom, she crawled into bed, taking the time to once again run her fingers through her smooth, straightened out and recently ginger colored hair. She was very pleased with the outcome of her recent trip to the hair salon.

Allowing the soft pillow to cradle her head as she curled and turned around to sleep, her lips curled into a small sad smile. Thoughts of loneliness crossed her mind as she lulled herself to sleep, quite aware of the void beside her in her bed. She usually had a stuffed animal lying there, but it was gone, in need of a wash. Slowly slipping into the arms of Morpheus, she rolled over and realized how cold the unoccupied space was. Shunning the thought aside with a yawn, the young woman fell finally asleep.

Rickman. The voice I’ll never forget.

I never though I would be writing two of these in the same week.

Alan Rickman has passed away today. At the age of 69. From cancer.
Just like David Bowie, 3 days ago (was it just 3 days?seems it was longer)

What the gosh darned is wrong with the Universe?!

I will never forget his singular voice, that I could recognize so easily and found so rich and full.

I will always remember the Sheriff, Hans Gruber and Professor Snape.

Rest in Peace, Mr. Rickman. You will be remembered.

 

 

Books bringing people together (again)

Well, this is a happy story. And a real one:

My friend Rita Deodato went to college with me. When we left, we lost touch. One of these days of 2015, I noticed on Facebook she had started a blog.

One about books. Especifically, a JAFF blog.

Don’t know what JAFF is? Don’t worry, I didn’t either. It’s Jane Austen Fan Fiction. And there is quite a lot of it and quite a big fan base, I tell you.

Well, me liking and commenting oon her posts led to us chatting on Facebook and eventually meeting up again (after I was the lucky winner in one of her giveaways)!

I really enjoyed spending time with her again and reconnect and I am very thankful for this shared love of books to have brought us back together 🙂

Now, you can read all about it here:

https://frompemberleytomilton.wordpress.com/2016/01/11/jane-austen-bringing-people-together/

I think I have been won over by JAFF, to be honest. Give it a go, you might just find something you like too!

Bowie. Immortal.

David Bowie has passed away. The man, the human shell, is dead.

The soul, it is undying. The Chameleon shall never be truly dead.

Major Tom has made liftoff and left us last night.

But his work is eternal, magic and unique – touching generations before and generations to come.

Bowie is dead. Long live Bowie.

 

The Crest of Snow and Copper – I

*** Warning *** Mature content ahead *** My “sort of” erotic piece ***
I’ll be posting this short story in a few installments, weekly. Woukd love to have your feedback on it, pretty please?
Without further adue…here it is – part 1:

 It had been an uneventful summer day. She had been to the hairdresser and spent the rest of the day with friends. Laughter and warmth filled the sunny passing hours.

By dinner time, she felt contentment. All was right; she was happy, had good friends, college was doing good. All that was missing in her life was love and, though she felt that void in her heart, almost painfully constant, it was ok. She knew one day that too would be resolved. She could quite well live without it until that time.

The night was warm and a soft breeze blew from the ocean, making it even more pleasant. A starry sky graced the onlookers as the crescent moon smiled down at the once again gathered group of friends. Over cups of espresso and puffs of cigarette smoke, words of random talk flowed amongst the seven friends. Later on, not so far from dawn (as their nights tended to go long), the smiling seven parted, sharing yawns of sleepy relaxation.

Renovação | Renewal

Reencontrei-me no espaço entre luzes e sombras.
Descobri-me nos passos lânguidos e nervosos de quem se passeia sob olhares de escrutínio.
Vi-me pelos olhos das estrelas e mudei.
Gostei do que vi, descobri, reencontrei.
Aprendi que ser é simplesmente isso: ser. É-se, está-se, fica-se.
E há quem nos ame por isso, independentemente de tudo.
Hoje, acordei e gosto mais de mim.
Confio em mim.
Os meus limites serão sempre mutáveis.
Sei que sou capaz.
E sinto-me bem!

I have rediscovered myself again between lights and shadows.
I have found myself in the dragged out and nervous steps of those who walk
under scrutinizing eyes.
I have seen myself through the eyes of the stars and I changed.
I liked what I saw, what I’ve discovered, what I found again.
I have learned that being is simply that: being. One is, something; one is, somewhere; one stays, some place.
And there are those who love us for that, no matter what.
Today, I woke up and and like myself more.
I trust in me.
My boundaries and limits will always be changeable.
I know I can do it.
And I feel good!

 

Ornitorrinco | Platypus

O pobre ornitorrinco tem questões de identidade
tenta, tenta, com afinco mas quem é de verdade?
Cauda de castor, bico de pato,
procura com ardor saber quem é de facto.

Perguntou à mamã, perguntou ao papá
até perguntou aos manos, que disseram ‘deixa lá’.
Decidido a saber onde é o seu lugar
onde pertencer, como actuar
parte o ornitorrinco pronto a explorar.

Primeiro passo, decide tentar o pato.
Passadas poucas horas, já não lhe serve o fato.
Debicar, debicar… e aquela forma de nadar?!
O pequeno não gosta de tanta pena
e discretamente sai de cena.

Do bico à cauda, mudança radical.
Vamos lá ver o castor, talvez seja ideal.
Mas logo vê que não, não é construtor…
roer árvores causa ao petiz muita dor.

Regressa ao ninho o ornitorrinco.
Cabisbaixo, suspira e levanta o trinco.
Espera-o a família ansiosa e preocupada.
A mamã abraça-o, aliviada.

O pequeno ornitorrinco já não busca uma verdade.
Ele é o que é, esta é a realidade.
Depois de tentar, procurar, experimentar e ver
aprendeu que ter vergonha de quem somos
não tem razão alguma de ser.

Setembro 2010