A Meeting with Adonis – Oh, and George Too

A/N: Not quite sure how I feel about this story, so please let me know what you think! 

Enjoy!


Heart beating wildly, Hannah smiled at the incredible handsome man who’d just walked into the book store. An Adonis thrown into the midst of her normal world of complaining customers and delayed orders.

“May I help you?” she asked.

He shrugged, turning intensely blue eyes towards her. “I’m looking for a book for class,” he told her.

“Then I guess you’ve come to the right place,” Hannah joked.

The man frowned. “It’s for my English class,” he said. “We’re supposed to read a classic or whatever.”

“Of course. Do you have a preferred author?”

“No, it’s supposed to be a classic. Like old, you know?”

Continue reading A Meeting with Adonis – Oh, and George Too

A Single Drop

A/N: Hi everyone! So this week’s post is a bit different. Not only will it be the longest piece posted (without being divided up) but it’ll also be a Western, which I have never tried writing before, so any comments are much appreciated!

Enjoy! 🙂



Elise made her way through the saloon, hating that she had to be there. The saloon was as always full of smoke, and it smelled like beer and sweat. Both scents that she had learned to associate with men.

“Dad!” she called out, trying to catch a glimpse of her father, the formerly esteemed Doctor Hamilton. The man who’d used to be the most respected man of their small town, but hadn’t been the same since Elise’s mother had died seven years ago. Elise had been eleven, and even the death of her mother hadn’t hit her quite as hard as her dad’s transformation. He’d lost his job, his reputation, and, seemingly, also his love for his only daughter.

Continue reading A Single Drop

Mr. X

A/N: Okay, I am quite interested in hearing everyone’s opinion about this piece. It’s a flash fiction, and I think it turned out pretty okay. (If I may say so myself 😉 )

Enjoy


Mr. X was a perfectly normal man, which was quite a rarity nowadays. He wasn’t much of anything really. He wasn’t spoiled, wasn’t selfish, wasn’t generous, wasn’t particularly good or particularly bad. He was a completely average human being and very proud of this fact.

Sure, he supposed that he was rather orderly. Didn’t like a mess if he could avoid it, but that was still pretty normal. It was just such a shame that certain other people couldn’t see that.

“Seriously, it’s just a pen!”

It was his new roommate talking, and Mr. X already knew that this arrangement wasn’t going to work out. It wasn’t ‘just’ a pen. It was a pen on an otherwise perfectly empty table, and Gaby wasn’t even using it!

Continue reading Mr. X

Darling Sam

A tiny hand,

Grasping mine.

So delicate,

So frail and fine.


 My lips move,

A promise made.

My whole past,

Away it fades.


The one thing,

I won’t mess up.

This weak grip, 

The world it stops.


All I wasn’t,

Now I am.

My baby boy,

My darling Sam.


 

Specialising in the Supernatural

A/N: This piece was actually written in collaboration with Emma Bertelsen, and it is an extract from a longer novel. Or at least the extract from an idea of a novel 😉


Daniel awoke with a pounding head and a dry throat. His left arm was asleep, caused by the man currently resting his head on it. Jacob was it?

He was still asleep, thank God, and Daniel tried to remember when they’d gotten back to his apartment.

Slowly pulling his arm back, he held his breath as Jacob only reacted by rolling over in his sleep and mumbling something intelligible. Sitting up, Daniel reached over to the night stand to get the two aspirins lying there. Next to the pills lay a small bag of pixie dust that was easily hidden away in the drawer. As an extra precaution he made sure to lock it. It’d cost him a pretty sum, and Daniel was in no mood to come up with a lie to explain the shimmering powder to his current bed partner.

He should probably go through his apartment before Jacob woke up. Make sure it was completely magic-free. What a bother.

Continue reading Specialising in the Supernatural

Damned Sundays


Sundays were meant for relaxing. Not for having panic attacks.

Clara had used to love Sundays. She would stay in her pyjamas the entire day, watching television and eating chocolate. She loved Sundays. Or at least she’d used to.

Then she’d decided to become a wedding planner, and Sunday had become the day of her nightmares.

Friday and Saturday were quite awful too, but for some reason Sunday had been the day that Clara had the hardest time giving up. Suddenly Sundays weren’t for hot chocolate and long baths, but rather for listening to complaints and working as hard as ever. Tuesday was her most relaxed day of the week, but it just wasn’t the same. She missed her Sundays, and this particular Sunday was particularly stressful.

It was in the middle of a very prestigious wedding party for a very demanding, but very wealthy couple, and Clara couldn’t wait until she no longer needed to hear the bride’s shrill voice yell at her. The entire day had been one little problem after another, and it was first now that Clara felt safe enough to take a deep breath and relax.

Continue reading Damned Sundays

Remnant

A/N: Here is another Sarah Doughty poem (I do love her poetry) 🙂

And for those whose interested, I just wanted to let you know that you can now also find my website under http://www.mariasjostrand.com


 

Heartstring Eulogies

“Why didn’t you
fight for me?” I cried.
“Because, darling,”
you breathed,
“there was nothing
left to fight for.”

© Sarah Doughty

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