The Gift

I’m a sucker for a good prompt. Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly Flash Fiction prompt based on the photo supplied below. If you wish to take part, the idea is to write a piece of fiction of around 100-200 words  (flash fiction)

Once you have written your story, please click on this link to add your story to the list. If you see other people’s faces there, then take a peek at their story and pop them a like a bit of feedback. It’s always nice to hear what other people think of your stories.

42-01-january-12th-2014

 

Now she was at the gates, she felt her strength slipping. The late evening sun that had warmed her not ten minutes before had made a cowards retreat behind the clouds. Even the sun had forsaken her. A cold waft of air wove its way underneath her shawl and she shivered pulling it tighter. She put her hands on the cold iron fret work, the coarsely worn paintwork embedding into her skin. She barely noticed.

She rested her head against the gate and let her breathing slow. Her stomach flipped and she could almost taste the bile fighting for release. She waited for it to settle, it did, but only slightly. Moving one hand from the gate she gentle rubbed her palm over the life growing in her belly. The gates, and the life that were barred from her, would not be for her child. She could do this. She could give him up. In her heart she knew it would be a son. Another woman would love him, cherish him, make him the man he was destined to be. Make him the rightful heir to this vast estate.

She would give him this gift, it was all she had. 

Below Stairs.

I am still trying to work on my self imposed commitment to try new styles and genres in my writing. Below is a short meld of bits of this and that. Its a kind of story and poem with an historical yet erotic twist thrown in, oh my!    I call it ………………………………practice!

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You asked me once if I knew your name, I could not answer, we were not the same.

You had choice and you had reason, If I hoped for more it would be treason.

For I was born to serve the world, and you were born to rule unfurled.

To me there was no name to share, no binding cord to show you care.

 

The pain you craved was hidden deep, behind stone walls and protected keep,

Yet you came to me and shared your soul, I gave you freedom and I gave you all.

I bared my body to feed your lust, it was my place and to survive I must,

When I wept in pain you drank my tears, until pure joy replaced the fears.

 

I’m bound and tied, I cannot flee, yet still I yearn for what will be.

I await your feel and crave your touch, and soon the ache becomes too much.

You tease my skin with dark and light, the lash of leather and feathered slight.

The reddened marks they fuel your fire, and still you soar and reach for higher.

 

You trace your tongue across my flesh, from ear to throat and then refresh,

You squeeze and tease a hardened tip, the trembling throes of passions grip.

Your tongue moves lower across pale skin, I strain against this mortal sin,

Yet how could we reject this force, that ties us blindly in its course.

 

You untie my bounds and leave to go, you say no words but your eyes they show,

That this is all there will ever be, that you are the master and the servant, me.

 

(Image from fineartamerica.com)