Posted by Gemma AN Flynn on Thursday, July 5, 2012,
In :
Bloody Woman
Fingers brush lightly over the smooth marble, words freshly carved, dated not even a week. There’s a sound behind her, and she turns, looks into a tired, weathered face.
“Come on,” he whispers, smiling faintly. “I could use the company. It’s cold out here.”
“You got soup?” she asks the other European. “I like soup.”
“I know you do.” He reaches out, grabs the youthful woman’s hand. She allows him to lead her away. He’s just over sixty, but he looks younger than ... Continue reading ...
Posted by Ariel Flynn on Monday, May 7, 2012,
In :
Bloody Woman
Kai paced anxiously back and forth in the waiting room. His hands rubbed against each other, fingers aching from the repetitive movement, but he couldn’t stop. He was so worried. Mother had been in there for so long....
His gaze slid to the side as he passed by the silent man sitting in a chair. The man didn’t look at him. He didn’t even really appear to know why they were here. Baka ningen, Kai grumbled mentally.
As if hearing his thoughts, Sosuke Watanari looked up. “Kai, sit d... Continue reading ...
Posted by Ariel Flynn on Monday, May 7, 2012,
In :
Bloody Woman
Svorak didn’t know how they’d gotten themselves into this mess. How could they be this stupid? “Fuck, get out of there, Tiger! Hurry up!” It was followed by the ominous sounds of the dark man’s pursuers shouting.
The voice in his ear wasn’t helping. “Yeah,” he said, racing up the stairs.
“I’m upstairs. Can you get to me? We’ll face ‘em together... or something.” It was never a good thing when Christoph started to run out of ideas. “The roof.”
“Coming,” ... Continue reading ...
Posted by Ariel Flynn on Monday, May 7, 2012,
In :
Bloody Woman
The early hours were always the hardest to wake up in. And the first Christmas the Boys spent in Arana’s vicinity was the worst.
Five AM, there was a loud thumping on their door, and Svorak actually fell out of bed, while Christoph groaned and covered his face with Svorak’s abandoned pillow. Outside the door, Arana was beaming widely. “Wake up, lads! It’s Christmas!”
“Uhg,” Svorak said eloquently from the floor.
“Go back to bed,” Christoph said, voice muffled.
There was a pa... Continue reading ...
Posted by Ariel Flynn on Saturday, May 5, 2012,
In :
Bloody Woman
Shinji walks to center stage, where there is a large white board. He picks up a marker, and scrawls something in kanji. Then, beneath it, he writes, “Bloody Woman Omake Theatre” and “Poker Night”
~.~.~.~
Arana was not, is not and would never be allowed to play with the guys during Poker Night. They made the mistake once, and they would never, ever, ever do so again.
Black witches - male, female or hermaphrodite - cheat. Extensively. Or exclusively, in the Lady’s case.
It was a nigh... Continue reading ...
Posted by Ariel Flynn on Friday, May 4, 2012,
In :
Bloody Woman
Kai stifled a yawn as he meandered down the street. No point in driving to the store, since there was a Wal-Mart literally five blocks away from his gym. It was a nice day, though, so the walk wasn’t horrible. The sun was out. There was a pleasant breeze. School was still in session so there were no kids making a nuisance of themselves...
The only problem was that he was being followed. There might be giggling involved, but that sounded like some sort of car repeatedly crashing against... Continue reading ...
Posted by Ariel Flynn on Wednesday, May 2, 2012,
In :
Bloody Woman
It was something that went unsaid between the three of them. A statement, maybe. A feeling, an emotion. A truth. An unspoken caring, a bond that kept them together.
Her fingers folded over a pale hand, her eyes trained on a dark sleeping, newly mangled face. She would give them her company, while her lover slept in another room. She would be here for them. Her Boys. Her children that were not her children.
And the truth would hang heavy and unspoken, because it was the truth, and the tr... Continue reading ...
Posted by Ariel Flynn on Wednesday, May 2, 2012,
In :
Bloody Woman
Her eyes were closed, the wind whipping her hair about her face and head. It was terrifying, and beautiful. Her gut clenched, and her fingers uncurled from the bars of the balcony. She barely felt the rush of air, cool on her tear-stained cheeks. Didn’t open her eyes to watch the world rush up to grab her.
Her heart ached. Her sister was a corpse in the ground, her nephew dead before he’d even been born. Charles, Lucy’s husband, had named the boy Alexander James Carpenter.
“I don... Continue reading ...
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