Showing posts with label Magic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Magic. Show all posts

Thursday, April 28, 2016


Clair was admiring her shoes in the mirror when she heard the loud insistent knocking on the door.  She jumped and then started over to it.  His knock wasn’t quite a cop-knocking because it wasn’t the pounding normally associated with cops, but it was only a few notches down from that.  Clair opened the door and there stood one of the most attractive men she had ever seen.  He certainly hadn’t looked this dapper when they had first met. 
Sergei stood on the other side of the door with a single rose held against his chest, which was covered in a dark blue linen shirt that made his ice blue eyes really pop.  The slacks were also a linen it seemed and in the same shade.  His hair, which he wore just a touch long, was combed over and parted on the side.  It was such a nerd thing to do and it was one of the cutest things Clair had ever seen.  He stood ramrod straight, almost military straight as he let his eyes roam over her.  Clean shaven, his angular jaw line and ridiculous cheekbones were put on display framing his full lips as he softly smiled at her, finally meeting her eyes.
“Good evening Clair.” He drawled smoothly.
For a split second as she stared into his eyes as he smiled down at her, his deep voice caressing her, Clair did something she had never done before.  She went completely blank, no thought would cross her mind as she stared into his eyes.  She felt her mouth open but no words came out.  And that was when panic had started to set in.  Blinking rapidly she stood in the door facing him as her jaw flapped without voicing anything at all. 
Sergei arched a brow at her seemingly enjoying her display.  Mercifully he asked, “Can I come in?”
The question registered and Clair solemnly nodded and stepped aside so he could do just that. As he passed her, the frozen ‘deer in headlights’ feeling she had started to fade.  What in the hell was that, she frantically asked herself.  I acted like a deaf mute for a second there, he’s not that hot!! She could feel the last thought actually being yelled in her mind.  With a deep breath and a concert smile she turned to the large man that was standing in her living room.
“Sorry about that.” She said briefly.

He shrugged casually. “About what, it’s a compliment to render a woman dumb, deaf and blind for a second.” He paused and thought about it some. “Or it’s very sad.” He frowned as he thought about the other end of that.

Other Posts on this book:

Grab your copy of So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk Into a Bar
Barnes and Noble

Monday, April 25, 2016

So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar

The First book of the Balancing Acts series for Genesis 2020: So A Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk Into a Bar

Sergei looked at her intently. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” Clair said quickly and with confidence. “Not at all.” For no other reason except the compulsion to do so Clair leaned up, placing her hand on his shoulder and softly kissed his cheek. “Thank you, really.” She met his eyes as she said it and felt his shoulder tremble beneath her fingers.
He stared into her eyes for countless seconds, he pulled closer for a moment and held.  He pulled closer still and held.  Clair could feel his breath on her lips, the heat of his skin under her fingertips and wafting from his body to hers due to close proximity.  Her lips parted and his eyes darted to them.  For a few more moments they held this way.  So close both feeling the urge to close the space between them and see what happens. Then Sergei pulled back.
Clair realized that she had been holding her breath.  She hadn’t expected him to kiss her, but she realized that she would not have been opposed to it either.  And that thought within itself startled her.  She hadn’t been this close to a man in over a year.  And even then, near the end she and Johnny hadn’t been the most loving of couples.  They had virtually stopped having sex a few months before his big move. Conversation between them had been nearly nonexistent and there had been very little consideration for each other.  Well, there had been very little consideration from Johnny towards Clair.
“So you ready?” Sergei asked as he placed more space between the two of them.
She looked at this man who had placed himself before her and she considered him.  Truly considered him for the first time since their very awkward meeting. Was she actually ready to move on?  The world around her had nearly aligned to make this meeting possible.  With her schedule and her career it was a nearly impossible instance to actually meet someone outside of her immediate circle of close friends and relatives.  For whatever reason Dorrie had been in rare form, so had this man, and so had she for that matter and this is what has come of it all. Her mother would have an earful about what is all meant.
Clair’s mother, Janeene was an interesting creature. She believed in God, in Fate, in Destiny and the Grand Design.  But she believed it was more like slots in space, not truly mapped out for one person over another.  The people that we are determine who we will become.  And the choices we make determine the people we are.  Pulling all of that together is her craft as she melds herbal healing, superstition and prayer to aid people on their journey as she refers to it as.  One of the things her mother always prescribed to was the thought that the Universe tested people to determine what they were ready for.  People find it very easy to fall into habits and accept fallacies as fact instead of coping with the inevitability of change and accepting their new role in the weft of the Universe.  She says bad luck is the side car to rejecting change.  Good luck, the rewards of the Universe for following the path that your choices have decided you are suited for.  All her life, Clair had run from something.  Whether it be her gift, men, or herself.  She had been in a race to be anything accept for what she was always meant to be.  And here before her was a test of varying degrees.  With this man she had her first psychic episode involving his death.  With this man she did have a disturbing unnamed attraction she had never felt with Johnny.  The connection was stronger and deeper, perhaps because of her episode, she really didn’t know.  It was just there.  All of the stars were aligning for this and here she was with him to go out on a date.
She had a choice to make, she could reject him out of fear of hurt and rejection, in essence keep running.  Or she could finally let her fear subside and jump in without thought and trust the Universe. Was she really ready for what the Universe was trying to gift her with?  The question practically echoed in her mind.
“I think I am.” She said out loud.

Sergei smiled, which was devastating to her senses. “Alright, let’s go.”

Other Posts on this book:

Grab your copy of So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk Into a Bar

Monday, January 12, 2015

Blog in Review Best of 2014 #5 Inseparable

She could feel him all the time now.  She would catch a certain scent in the air and anxiety would rise in her belly. The whisper of a voice in the back of her mind. She closed her eyes, because she could almost feel breath tickle her ear. She inhaled deeply knowing this was the only way to manage it when they were connected like this. She opened her right hand in front of her staring at the lines and veins.  Warmth glided across the surface ever so lightly.  A fleeting thing feeling as it touched, touching as she felt. The sensation went up her arm, soaked her shoulder, then spread like wine staining carpet over her chest. She sighed in the feeling as her body was slowly being eaten away by his essence his aura. It warmed more in random spots like tiny starburst across her skin.  Tiny eruptions of warm sensations exploded softly all over. He called it sprinkle kisses.

The connection had always been there and visceral. It was like a train station that no one used. The tracks had been laid long ago.  When they first met it was pain.  It had dropped her to her knees the first time it poured through her. She had felt the sharp instant cut, the initial numbness and then she had nearly in slow motion dropped to her knees as the numbness faded for a dull aching that had no source yet could not be appeased. She had gasped loudly as if she had been hit in the stomach.  The sound of the gasp nearly lost in the sudden and hard release of air. She covered her heart with both hands as tears built in her eyes.  She stared dumbfounded to the heavens as they streaked brilliant salty trails down her cheeks. She vaguely felt them streaming down her neck to her chest.  Her skin dried some, her sweater caught the rest. She had stayed there for an eternity it seemed.  Nailed to her living room floor in pain, she had fallen to her back, eyes wide, tears streaming, mouth agape. The pain was acute, sustained.  Her first thought was his name and the pain doubled. This was a soul deep hurt that had survived and fed itself with his passions, ate his shattered dreams and drank of his broken heart. It fueled his nightmares, ignited his pessimism, and nurtured the hearth of his rage.

As she lay there unable to move, barely able to stand the pulsing burning fire that was both pain and rage she understood what true intimacy was.  It wasn't sexual at all, it was emotional.  It was living with someone else's pain inside you.  Bound to you in the core of your own soul. No closer mating could ever be attained. She wept as his despair raced through her.  Somehow she had always thought hopelessness was a passive emotion.  How utterly unrelentingly foolishly wrong she had been.  She saw now that hopelessness was a tidal wave. A raging ocean always building to overtake you. He was at war with it constantly. She was not fit for the fight.  For a moment she surrendered to it.  She let her mind drift into the darkness that only soul shattering pain could produce. She felt herself sinking through the carpet, through the floor, through the layers of dimensions that separated them.  She had retreated from this plane and was in a space she had never seen before.

The space was dark, wet and cold.  She was surrounded by walls. Black dirty walls, the ceiling was too high.  Several stories over her head it loomed.  The smell was lacking in life.  Despite the moisture it seemed nothing could live in this space.  The walls and the floor seamlessly bent from one to the other.  She walked gingerly down the hallway.  It had to be, it was no bigger than 4 feet wide. She passed a mirror and stopped to observe herself. She was bathed in light, and that was all. Her dusky skin nearly glowed with an iridescent pearl gleam that was blue and purple. Her eyes glittered as if set alive by flames. Her hair a curly long orange red mane that drifted to some space right past her ass.

Startled she stepped forward to touch the mirror.  Lightly she placed her fingers right above where her heart would in the image. She heard the tinkling of glass.  The mirror contracted at her touch, seemed to take a deep quick breath then shattered.  Instinctively she covered her face waiting for the additional pain of the cutting glass.  Instead she felt a fine mist.  She dropped her arms and stared at them as the dust left red and gold speckles on her skin, fine and iridescent. She glanced up quickly at the spot the mirror came from and she saw a door.

The door wasn't like anything else in the hallway. It was carved wood, deep brown with hints of red. On it was a tower.  It was long and tall, a perfect cylinder of brick and mortar rising from the middle of the ocean it seemed. The top of the tower had a lookout much like a lighthouse. In the window there was the clear figure of a young boy staring out. Dragons circled overhead their tails blending as they formed a ring around the top of the tower. Snakes slithered from the water inching up the base of the tower. The ocean raged and crashed beneath them. The scene was framed with thorny vines braided outside of the main image.

That's when she noticed the door had no knob.  She walked up to it and traced a wave.  The wood was cool and smooth to the touch. She traced up to a snake to the tower and continued to inch upward. She touched the face of the boy briefly on the cheek. She couldn't tell if the door had whelped or if she had.  The touch had spiked the pain for a second forcing the sound. Instinct only made her lean in closer and press her lips to the boy's forehead. Her closed eyes didn't see what happened because in the next moment she was kissing air.

It was a small room before her. Just a rustic setting. A lovely rug on the wooden floor, a fireplace in the corner lit and blazing.  A comfortable chair with armrests and a high back with velvet red coverings. The fact that there were no windows and the walls were bare was a bit odd.  However it was not nearly as odd as seeing him kneeling in front of the chair putting makeup on what was clearly a dead woman. Her skin was blue. The unnatural hue of someone who has long passed. Her hair was a grey stringy mop falling to her threadbare shoulders.  The white gown was dingy with bits of makeup mistakenly dropped on spots. Her lifeless form stared with eyes dark cold and dead. The hallows of her skull were apparent in her cheeks and mouth.  She was propped in the chair with her arms on the rests and her legs pulled closed, feet planted, makeup in her lap.

He would place makeup on a spot on her face that made her look flesh colored. As he would move on to another area the makeup would slowly disappear. He would notice when the spot he was working on was done and then go back to reapply. She slowly walked over to where he fussed and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"She's not gone you know." he whispered in a well-rehearsed way. "Any minute now she'll be back and this time she'll love me."

She didn't say anything. She knew what this was and she knew who she was. She took has hand away from her face.  She was surprised that he offered no resistance.  She removed the make up sponge from his hand and placed it in the lap of the woman where the rest was. He just stared at the face of the woman as she went blue. In a matter of moments she faded to gray and then dissolved into ash.

The low keening moan that came from him managed to come through her as well as they watched this happen. He sat back on the floor.  She knelt beside him and pulled his head against her chest. She sifted her fingers through his short brown hair enjoying the solid feel of him. He was cold though. Her other hand soothingly rubbed the back of his neck. He let her hold him as he tried to quiet the storm within him. She closed her eyes and held him closer.  She took slow deep breaths and focused herself. When she inhaled she focused on his pain, when she exhaled she focused on soothing. It didn't take long before they were breathing together and the pain storm was subsiding. Slowly his arms crept up and wrapped around her waist.

She jolted up and was in her living room again. As long as she lived she would never forget that day.  That had been the beginning of their unique odyssey.

Friday, November 18, 2011

Prologue of Shuttered Vision from the Series Life Goes On


 She was surrounded by flowers.  They ranged in fragrance and hue.  Some were lilac, some daisies, lavender, roses, orchids, hyacinths.  It was the colors that captured one's attention.  Unlike any she'd ever seen.  They were vivid, vibrant shades of sun orange, amethyst purple, sapphire blue, ruby red with amazing emerald greens.  Some shown in multiple colors like red and green for bloodstones. Dark carnelian red, smoky iridescent quartz. She stared into her sky; it always looked like sunset with vivid blues and purples mixing with reds and oranges. Cloudy enough to make a lovely image, but never so cloudy that it seemed gloomy.

She inhaled deeply as she lay in the field of flowers understanding the message she was being given as the scent of white sage floated laced with the fragrance of the flowers. Eyes closed she pushed deeper into herself.  From her field she could determine all she needed to know.  She needed to find who was calling her, had been calling her for months now. But always lingered the thought, this one is a stranger and doesn't want to be found. She felt the pressure of a hand. It was larger than hers, firm and rough.  The breath on the back of her neck was steady and calm.  He lay right behind her, right under her, right beside her.  In this place he was practically a part of her.

She tried to turn around to face him, but was stopped. The sensation was odd for her, these things were always under her control.  No one got to make choices for her here yet here he was stopping her. She pressed harder and was met with more force. Abruptly she turned and the world pitched to black.  She was falling through her field.  The flower base being ripped away as her nose was assaulted by burning flesh.  Her eyes flew open and she saw the petals smoldering beside her as they all fell.  She looked down to see herself falling towards pits of lava, banked flaming mounds of earth and oceans of burning water sizzling away, salting the air with it's demise. Creatures colored with flame and smelt snapped their jaws at her ready to devour her.  Flame winged imps and demons swarmed above them taunting them with the kill they couldn't have whipping them into a frenzy.  Sea leviathans with several heads and tails swam freely in the burning oceans eating all that crossed their path. Stubby, stumpy moss covered beasts resembling jackals roamed the flaming mounds unheaded.  There was peril at every stop.

She threw her hands in front of her face to shield what was coming her way.  Then suddenly she stopped falling.  An arm secured her at the waist as strong arms pulled her around and she pressed her now tearstained cheeks to his neck.

"Who are you and why have you brought me here?" she asked.

"I'm sorry. You were never meant to be here. I like your field," a deep masculine voice replied.

"What hell are you from?"

"The worst kind, the one of my own making."

She vaguely noticed that they were moving upward.  And within moments she was as she was before on her back in her field his presence there but not intrusive.

"How did you get here?" she asked him knowing that if she tried to face him again she would be dumped into his hell.

"I don't know. I've been trying to figure it out.  But I'm selfish enough to not mind if it doesn't bother you."

"You need my help."

"I have all the help from you I need.  Right here in your field."

"It's more than that.  You don't understand what I am, what I do.  No one shows up here that I don't already know."

"I should go --"

"No wait --"

"See ya next time Flower girl."

 Fiona awoke from a dead sleep with the stranger's voice still clear in her head. She clutched her head and doubled over in her bed for a moment.  She straightened and with a deep sigh reached for her journal and started cataloging the points of her dream so that she could analyze it when morning came.  She lay back on her headrest when she was done shaken.  Who was that man haunting her dreams?  He had been there for months now.  And over the course of time his presence had gotten stronger as he felt more comfortable with her. 

At first it had been just a brief but untimely intrusion.  She hadn’t even really noticed anyone was there.  Almost like an itch that was easily scratched.  She had determined it was nothing and it became so.  A brief irritation she had swiftly evicted.  But somehow he had found other ways in and had made her sanctuary his safe haven. 

Fiona lay back down and sighed willing herself to go back to sleep.  Maybe by the light of a new day she would be able to make sense of this chaos.

Friday, March 19, 2010

So a Psychic and Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar - Sample

“Yeah, a coffee would be nice.” As he instead seated himself at her baby grand causing Clair to pause and stare for a moment to see what he was doing. With the delicacy of a surgeon the man lifted the lid, and placed his fingers over the keys.

Clair was about to yell at him she realized as he started playing Beethoven’s fifth in A minor. Fascinated Clair stopped, and watched as this handsome man closed his eyes, and let his fingers glide over her keys.

“You tune her yourself don’t you?” he said under his breath.

Clair hadn’t realized that she had moved closer until she heard his voice which startled her out of her stunned fascination with his playing.

“Yes, I do.”

He nodded. “You like your tones a hair sharper than a tuner would leave it.”

Clair felt the tug in her heart, and was terrified more than fascinated. She made her way swiftly into the kitchen, and started the process of brewing coffee.

Clair realized that her hands were shaking as she placed the filter into the machine. The sounds of his playing were floating clearly into the kitchen. His technique was nearly flawless, his form, the pressure of his fingers, and the invisible nuances of playing an instrument as complex as the piano all in line with the intent and purpose of the piece. Clair took a deep breath as the sounds of one of her favorite works moved over her ears, and assailed her heart and soul.

It had been like that when Johnny would sing to her. His voice would incite feelings of wonder, awe, and joy. But his voice wasn’t the instrument of her heart. Not like the piano. Listening to someone pay homage to her liege as Sergei was raised her level of involvement to about three times of where it was when Johnny would sing to her.

‘Rapture as a noun meaning elation. Elation as a noun meaning happiness, euphoria, glee, intoxication, jubilation which leads back to—‘

Clair’s eyes popped open as she realized what she was doing.
Shaking even harder she continued preparing the coffee.

When the task was done she walked into the living room, and sat on her sofa to listen to him play as she waited for the coffee to finish brewing. She got to watch the play of his back muscles as he moved. He sat ramrod straight. Edwina would love his form, she thought passively. He kept his wrists firm, and his fingers loose. He was playing as if he could see the music in his head as his eyes were closed. Clair did that sometimes, but that was because of the sheer ecstasy she received from playing. Biting her fingernails, Clair watched as he continued.

Then without thinking she got up, and sat next to him on her bench. There was barely enough room for her, and she completed his melodic line with the under pairing for the piece. Edwina used to do this for her all the time when she was trying to find her way through a work. It was akin to what women did to under lead a man while teaching ballroom dance.

Sergei’s eyes opened, and he looked over at Clair as she played. Her eyes were on the keys. The look on her face as she played made his breath catch. It was sublime the pleasure she received from this instrument. It wasn’t the right time or the right place, but he couldn’t help what he did next. He took her chin into his hand, and leaned over to kiss her.

Clair didn’t know how to respond. She was playing, and then she was being kissed. His lips were smooth, and warm as they feathered softly over hers. He pressed, and then opened his mouth. Clair was stunned to find her lips following suit. His tongue slipped between her parted lips, and she moaned in the back of her throat. Sergei was patient though. Softly he rubbed his tongue over hers until she returned the caress, and then he retreated causing her tongue to follow his back between his lips. She felt The slightest suction on her tongue, and he released her pulling his head back staring into her glassy eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized immediately. “It’s not my way to steal kisses. You just looked so .. . “ his voice faded off The look on his face said plainly that he just didn’t have words for how she had looked to him.

Clair brushed her fingers across her lips. She hadn’t been kissed in little over a year, and she certainly hadn’t enjoyed any of those as much as she had this one. She then brushed her fingers over Sergei’s lips, and had the pleasure of hearing his breath catch at the caress. She leaned into Sergei, and sealed her mouth to his.