Lee-Ann watched him on the opposite side of the room. Breath quickening her heart raced. It had been a long time since she’d known lust like this. This was temptation right on a plate, trembling she had to have him tonight. Licking moist lips, how would he taste? A shiver ran down her spine she was conscious of the glow as a blush spread across her chest, throat and cheeks. Oblivious to everyone else at the party, she wasn’t usually as bold as this but feint heart didn’t get you anywhere not here not tonight.
Lee-Ann moved nearer he hadn’t seen her yet, just sitting there looking attractive to everybody. Hands off ladies he’s mine, she flashed her eyes at any women in the vicinity. She grasped a glass from the table as she passed by and downed it in one to steady her trembling hands; she drank another. The alcohol was working calming her nerves giving her much needed dutch-courage.
Lee-Ann only had eyes for him, closer now so close she could smell him. Ooh, he smelled so tempting. Weak at the knees she nearly collapsed to the floor. Contain yourself girl, people are looking. An empty seat near to him, Lee-Ann couldn’t restrain herself any longer. She caught hold of him with both hands. Pulling him off the plate she sank her face into him and took an enormous mouthful of waffle her lips and nose were daubed with cream. Wow! Delicious Lee-Ann had eaten nothing this good since she had begun her diet.
Why did I leave the campsite? Dick wondered regretting it for the umpteenth time as he staggered through scorching sand. The hotel had organised an overnight desert safari for its guests and he'd been eager to go. Photography was his love and a cloudless night sky and sparkling stars was reason enough to leave. So Dick grabbed his camera and tripod and strolled out into the wilderness to capture the Milky Way.
Absorbed in picture taking he took no notice of the freezing cold until numb fingers made it awkward for him to handle his equipment. Dick felt he should turn back, but he realised there was a problem. His full attention had been on the sky and he hadn't kept an eye on where he was going.
Clambering to the top of a nearby ridge he could only see sand dunes in every direction and no sign of the camp. Lost, his gut clenched, adrenaline surged through his arteries, what was he to do, which way to go? Panic-stricken he cried out, he ran, his toes caught in the surface he fell and slipped to the bottom of the slope hitting his head on the way.
When he opened his eyes, night had passed, and the sun now high in the sky. Skin already blistering in the heat. Now I understand how a crispy duck feels in the stove, he murmured to no one. The breeze smelled hot and dusty; flies buzzed as they flew around him. Perspiration trickled down his forehead as he sat. Wiping it with his palm he licked it, attempting to get the last drop of moisture into his parched mouth it was hours since he'd taken any water.
Fine sand sucked at him as he walked making him tired, he needed to take a rest. Although a city dweller not an outdoorsy person, he had enough common sense to stay out of the midday sun but there's no shade. What time of day is it? He had no idea. He had neither his wrist watch nor mobile phone with him. Where is help? When will it arrive? Jeep or a helicopter? Do they have helicopters hereabouts?
Dizzy with sun stroke his brain was fuzzy, reasoning difficult he sat before he fell. Thin clothes didn't save him from the burning heat he couldn’t stand to place any exposed part of his body on the ground. The buzzing was becoming noisier; it wasn’t flies but a chopper. A dark speck appeared in the sky he leaped up waving his arms. The sound grew stronger; the shape got closer. Saved, his relief was plain dropping to the floor once more he shut his eyes for one last time. A shadow descended over him. The vulture landed and pulled the flesh from his bones.
The Wrong Envelope
Jill saw the red Royal Mail van pulling away from outside of her house through the lounge window. Fear tightened her stomach as the adrenaline pumped. She went into the hallway to pick up the mail by the front door. There was a brown envelope. She had been waiting, dreading the day when this envelope arrived. The news inside would affect the rest of her life.
With shaking hands, she picked up the envelope. It looked like an ordinary envelope. No one would guess the gravity of the contents. Hands shaking, heart fluttering, Jill started to open the envelope. Fearing the worst, she pulled out the contents, a single folded sheet and a booklet. Jill unfolded the letter and started to read, scanning until she got to the words she had been dreading. “I’m sorry to tell you, Ms Robinson, but the tests are conclusive you do have an inoperable brain tumour.”
Jill’s eyes filled with tears, making further reading impossible. "That’s not fair" she cried, "I‘m only 27-years old. What about the children I haven’t had? What about the husband I haven’t got? My life is over before it has begun. I haven't the time to do the things I want to do."
The tears continued to stream down her face dripping from her chin. She sunk into the armchair, her heart was pounding wildly. She tried to calm herself and read the letter again. There must be a mistake? Please God, let there be a mistake! Recently, her headaches had started to decrease. It was bliss, being able to work longer without getting those awful blinding headaches. She re-read the letter but the message remained unchanged. She was going to die.
She became aware of the telephone ringing in the hallway. She struggled out of the chair and answered it.
“Hello, Jill Robinson?” Said the kindly sounding woman on the other end.
"Yes, yes it is, but before you start I'm not interested in buying any...”
The woman interrupted her “Jill, I’m calling from Dr O'Connor's surgery. I’m afraid there’s been a terrible mistake. Your results have come back, we sent you the wrong envelope. Your results are negative Jill, you haven’t got a brain tumour”.
Absent Without Leave
My friend is back
at least for a short while.
He's been away, absent without leave,
sorting out life stuff
worries and such.
You know what it's like,
all this life stuff gets in the way.
He couldn't get through
the lines of communication were cut.
But today, the first in a while
I heard him.
I wrote down what he said.
My friend's name?
I have Fibromyalgia, it’s a condition which affects people differently. One of the ways it affects me is in my writing in that in the morning often my head is very woolly, my thinking is very woolly and I find it difficult to express myself. Medical experts call this Fibro Fog and it dulls my creativity, I don’t know if I’ll ever be free of this. I’ve had it now for about 6-years and it makes my life very difficult. Right at the beginning, I had to stop work because I couldn’t cope. I’m gradually getting better at coping with the symptoms but it still affects my life in many ways.
My ambition is to write a novel not just one but many. I’m starting small, by writing short stories, blogs and I’m researching a novel about a smuggler in the West Country in the 18th century. I’m also writing poetry which I quite enjoy as it’s very short and suits my attention span in a way because I can quickly knock out a poem and depending on how I feel it can be done quite quickly.
I’ve joined some writing websites, The Prose and Medium.com. I’m on Twitter @andrew_westcott and facebook.com/andrew.westcott58. I’m going to be starting my author website shortly where I will be writing blogs. I’ve started a crowdfunding page on Patreon http://bit.ly/2ljwF6O to help me cover the costs of indie publishing; cover design, editors and proof-reader.
picture from metro.co.uk
No not running. Seeping.
Dark. Red. Thick.
No not seeping. Oozing.
No not oozing. Spurting.
Rhythm. Pump. Pump. Pump.
Then it stopped.
Then it went dark.
Dazzling in the eye
Sparkling like diamonds do
Pleasing to ladies
So cold in winter
should fall in summer
when it's warmer