VoyForums
[ Show ]
Support VoyForums
[ Shrink ]
VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

[ Login ] [ Contact Forum Admin ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, [7], 8, 9, 10 ]

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 16:03:47 11/12/07 Mon
Author: celtgirl
Subject: Alright ladies, snuggle up by the fire this is from Ireland and Russia...with love.... (well I had to play on the Bond allusion)....>>>
In reply to: E 's message, "It's a rainy November day here. If I close my eyes and listen to the rain falling, I can almost imagine I'm back in Ireland. If only for the sake of posterity I wanted to say that I'm sorry the Mermaid discussion has ended. I miss my friends. Probably no one will see this message for a long time, but that's okay, I still wanted to say it 'out loud.'" on 11:55:50 11/12/07 Mon

copyright 2007 Cindy Brandner (this stuff is really rough in some spots so bear with me, where there's a (?) it means I have to fill in specifics or I haven't decided how to fill out that sentence yet. :)

“Yasha.”

There were only two people on the face of the planet that called him Yasha, one had raised him, the other stood here outlined in the dark, against the blowing pines. He had met Andrei Alekseyevich Valueva when they were both eighteen years old. They had three years of sublime friendship, in which both were lucky to emerge with limbs and spirits intact. Since then this was all they were allowed, one night a year here near the Finnish border in a low log house whose eaves hung heavy with ice and pine boughs scraped the roof.

“Andrushya,” he replied, voice carrying quietly through the delicate spirals of snow that danced around the two of them.

*
Every year he waited for the quotation, every year he waited for Andrei to tip his king into the waste ground and tell him he was ready to escape. And every year he left with fear in his heart, and worry that next year, at their appointed time, Andrei would not appear, because Andrei would be dead.
*

The USSR- a land of such beauty and cruelty, much like the Russian nature itself. Mysterious, dark, unfathomed. From the far west where the city of St. Petersburg still hung like a sugar spun fairytale of European architecture, European manners and European decay- a city of water, stone and sky, Russia’s own Venice. To the far east, more Oriental than Russian (?). And the Russians themselves, descended from the great horse warlords with their scythe-like cheekbones and ice blue eyes. To the far north, with its vast, dark forests, tracts of which no man had ever walked within nor touched upon- here was the land of fable- of Baba Yaga and the Golden Eagle- the land of the sweeping amber-skinned hordes of Chingis Khan. Siber, the very name conjuring up icy steppes and dark-eyed women in wind torn furs.

*

The very wind had teeth and the snow, a beautiful smoky resonance from a distance, was like shards of steel against the skin. Jamie could feel it settle in the lines of his face, the curve of his neck, the creases of his hands. He no longer remembered what it felt like to be warm, really warm so that one could bask in the heat that shimmered within the very marrow of one’s bones.

*

Memory was a tricky thing here, both saviour and destroyer. To recall with perfect clarity all the literary works, the poems, the songs, the snatches of conversation, even, once heard on a street in London or Paris…this saved one’s soul. This was a place of refuge on nights when, despite exhaustion, one could not sleep, a reminder that a world did exist, or had once existed outside this snowbound hell. But to remember love, laughter, long chats by the fireside…to remember those things was, at times, like being knifed under one’s ribs when one was least expecting it.

and Ireland...(this is a piece that isn't finished either, and it's not something that will make it into a book, I just wrote it for my own sake really).

The house was warm, a fire glowing in the hearth. The light reflected in small glowing patches in the teacups that adorned the sideboard, and the floorboards gleamed soft. She sighed in relief, it was good to be home, like sinking into a warm bath on a chilly winter evening. She turned to Casey.

“How-”

He smiled. “I did hope ye’d come home with me tonight, Jewel. I didn’t want to bring ye back to a cold house, that hardly seemed a proper welcome.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling oddly nervous. Here they were home, just as she’d wanted and hoped and prayed for these last few months, and now she didn’t know what to do or say.

Casey took her coat from her and she sat down in a chair by the fire, her legs suddenly wobbly as a new colt’s. He came and knelt on the rug before the fire, adding a couple of bricks of peat to it. The heat steadied her nerves a little. She needed to tell him about the baby.

Before she could utter a word though, Casey rubbed his hands together and took a deep breath, turning to her with an odd look on his face and saying, “Well let’s get on with it then.”

“Get on with what?” she asked, confused.

“Sex,” he said bluntly. “We need to get it out of the way.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling a little dizzy suddenly, as the full import of what lay between them hit her. There was no way for Casey to take her to bed, without it conjuring up the pain that needed only the slightest breath to stir it to full wakefulness. How could she lie down with him, give him everything without any barriers between them, when she knew the images that would now haunt him every time he touched her?

“I’m sorry, Jewel, that came out a bit more blunt than I’d intended. It’s just that,” he breathed out heavily, “I want to make love to ye, but I’m afraid to as well. I’m afraid of what I’ll feel, I’m afraid of hurting ye. But I know waiting will only make it worse.”

She swallowed and began to unbutton her blouse. Casey opened his mouth to say something and then snapped it shut, as his eyes took in the changes in her body, since last he’d touched her. She shrugged the blouse off, the firelight flickering on the ivory of her breasts, each one tinged blue with the dilated veins of pregnancy.

“Oh,” Casey said, and it was a small shocked sound, as though someone had let his air out.

“Give me your hands, man,” she said softly and after a moment he turned toward her and extended two hands that shook ever so slightly. She took them and placed them on the round of her belly.

“Did ye…did ye know ye were pregnant the night I left ye?” he asked.

“Yes, though just.”

“Oh, Pamela- why didn’t ye tell me?” His large hands spanned the small mound, eyes dark and riveted to the obvious pregnancy.

“I didn’t think it was fair. I wanted you to stay for love, and not for duty.”

Casey bowed his head and took a deep breath. “Woman, there’s never been a minute since I first saw ye, that I haven’t loved ye. I was angry, I was hurtin’ somethin’ fierce, but never doubt that I loved ye that whole time.”

“And I you,” she said softly, tears running freely down her face. “You scared the hell out of me man.”

“How…how…” words seemed to fail him, for he swallowed, the long line of his throat trembling.

“Three months- so far, so good,” she said, knowing the fears that haunted him, as well as she knew her own.

He nodded, as though afraid to even give voice to any hope. They had been hopeful so many times before, and been sorely pained at each loss. But this time she felt it was different, that this pregnancy would result in a living child- a child that would help them heal.

He took her down gently, there on the rug in front of the fire.

She shivered when he touched her, though the fire was hot against her skin.

He brushed the hair away from her face, and kissed her forehead tenderly before putting his lips to her own. She needn’t have worried, for her response was immediate. Having been denied the touch of him for so long, she found herself almost desperate now, wanting him inside her, hard and needing, meeting her own need, like fire striking tinder, setting off an uncontrollable blaze.

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:

[ Contact Forum Admin ]

Forum timezone: GMT-8
VF Version: 3.00b, ConfDB:
Before posting please read our privacy policy.
VoyForums(tm) is a Free Service from Voyager Info-Systems.
Copyright © 1998-2019 Voyager Info-Systems. All Rights Reserved.