| Women Who Tempt |
[May. 20th, 2010|02:10 pm] |
"Is everything on this island tropical themed?"
From his post at the door, Darian thought it a fair question. He had steered clear of tiki huts, floating bars, dueling pianos, and the cloying strains of Jimmy Buffett tunes, which left him with little in the way of choice. This bar was less thematic than most, but even it boasted a palm tree made of a neon tubing and a specialty drink served in a coconut. He took off a lightweight coat and hung it from a hook near his chair... A hook which, on closer inspection, was shaped like a pelican beak.
So that issue was settled, at least. He was in hell.
Upon sitting down, he straightened his tie and looked around. Roxanne, the client he chased to the island, was more adept at staying off his radar than Darian could've imagined. She was not a guest in any hotel. He concluded that she'd settled herself in for a long-term stay, perhaps taken up a job and an apartment share (it was either that or admit the worse alternative-- that she'd already left the island, leaving him picking sand out of his teeth, without a clue as to her next destination).
( Awakening ) |
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| A Working Vacation |
[Mar. 1st, 2010|03:21 pm] |
( Salt ) |
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| Misguided Love (Begins 'Stuck Together') |
[Feb. 1st, 2010|01:30 pm] |
The first time Dana Harper saw Dion Hatch, love of her young life, he was unloading groceries onto the conveyor belt in her check-out line. She was overwhelmed by his long eyelashes and round biceps. As she ran packages of sandwich meats and breakfast bars across the scanner, she smiled at him and told him they were her favorite kind, too. When that failed to net his attention, she commented on his personal check. How they had the same initials, wasn't that funny? He didn't think so. He wasn't rude, just dismissive. Busy. He didn't really notice her.
She memorized his address and made up excuses to drive her old Volkswagen down his street. Later, when she grew bold, she rode her bike past Dion's house. Once, he saw her. He was out watering his lawn. Dana waved. He nodded and went back to his business.
Another time, she parked a block away from his house, then followed him to a bar. She sat on a stool across the room, but eventually made her way to Dion's table, introducing herself as 'Dana, from Johnson's Grocery'. He recognized her, she could tell, but he pretended not to. He was making her work for it.
After two more planned encounters, Dion finally told her to knock it if, he wasn't interested. The words felt like acid thrown in her face. As she walked away, humiliated, Dana knew he would be interested, if he just had time to get to know her...
In a last-ditch attempt to bring them closer together, Dana took her savings to a magic shop on Key Largo, where she paid the owner to write a love spell, which was 'guaranteed' to chain their hearts together by Valentine's Day. Dana took the ingredients back to Key West and set up a sacred space on her living room floor, where she performed the spell just as she'd been instructed. Unfortunately, either the ingredients were wrong or the mage overestimated Dana's ability to pull it off. The spell went awry. Strange, silvery tendrils shot out from the altar, snaking through the air in Dana's apartment before escaping through the open windows.
Whenever the silvery tendrils happened upon upon two people in close proximity, they turned into actual chains, locking people together at the wrist. Time and effort would reveal that the chains, while seeming delicate, wouldn't break, and allowed only a few feet of space between its captives, and they would not fall apart until Valentine's Day.
[Submitted by moderator] |
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| Low Tide |
[Nov. 13th, 2009|11:38 pm] |
If a butterfly's flap of wings can set off a tornado, then what might the arrival of a hurricane portend?
Up through the Gulf of Mexico, violent weather patterns spun off into far-reaching consequences. In the air, plenty watched and planned according to what was seen. Water levels rose, property was damaged and chaos ensued.
But beneath the water...
From the depths, something long dormant was dredged up and soon found itself deposited on a Florida beach. Too large, too heavy and too out of the way to allow a human hand in its recovery, the relic laid and was eventually covered back over with sediment from the ocean floor. No visual clue persisted of its existence, yet what was locked within soon found itself within reach of living minds, extending its influence, whether for good or ill, out to them.
And, as it turned out, more than just the living would found themselves answering its call...
A magnetic mental flux set in, subtly pulling in those who felt it, near and far. Whether through dreams, coincidental messages or other means, they found themselves drawn. For some, it felt like a whim. To others, a more obvious signal, colouring their activities until it no longer able to be ignored.
To all, it somehow felt 'right' that they visit, allowing themselves an excuse to dwell in this place of tropical sun, sea and sand. That they extend their residence for 'just one more day'. That, in some cases, a legitimate reason even be found to stay.
And on that beach, a few came to wander, mystified as to the source of this most recent fascination, but being drawn, nonetheless. Watching, waiting. Looking for something unquantifiable.
Something buried beneath their feet.
Something which made itself most obvious only at low tide... |
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