Category Archives: Writers Collection

#TheWritersCollection – Heaven and Hell

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“Fifteen minutes to show me what you’re made of

Fifteen minutes what are you afraid of

I’ve seen it done it you wanna know the trade-off

It’s heaven – it’s hell – being Geri Halliwell”

*Dancing frenetically. Finally stops after five minutes and catches her breath.*

See I was a huge Spice Girls fan when I was younger. These five chicks – no matter what tabloids advertised – were true bombs. And yes, everything they said and did consisted in pure marketing strategies specifically applied to attract young insecure girls like me. I bought the “Girl Power” merchandising, and I told all the schoolmates who bothered me to f*** off because I was tough now. What else could I do? The Spice Girls were everywhere.

My favorite was Geri. Ginger Spice. She represented everything I wanted to be as a grown woman. She knew how to rock my world the right way, even if again, it was all part of the game, but hey, it served me well!

My first concert ever was the Spice Girls. I had to ask for special permission to leave school early in order to go. The principal’s assistant kinda looked at me weird when I told him I had personal matters to attend. He acted like I had no such pressing matters and he urged me to tell him the truth. I said – Fine. I’m seeing the Spice Girls in concert tonight, and I’m going. No way I’m staying stuck here and I don’t see my idols! Of course, he let me go. Oh that was fun. I knew all their songs by heart, and I sang along. My parents even came with me, although I was fifteen years old. When you live in a small town, concert tickets are expensive, and you need to drive to the concert hall. I didn’t drive at fifteen. No other girlfriend did either. So my parents made the trip – and I must say, they liked it very much too. My mum loved Melanie C and my dad didn’t really care.

I breathed Spice Girls. I spoke Spice Girls.

“I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want

So tell me what you want, what you really, really want

I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha)

I wanna really, really, really wanna zigazig ah

If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends

(Gotta get with my friends)

Make it last forever, friendship never ends

If you wanna be my lover, you have got to give

Taking is too easy, but that’s the way it is”

My English sky rocketed I can tell you that much. LOL

When the band separated, I cried. I missed them A LOT. Geri released her first solo album and here we went for another round. But it wasn’t the same anymore. The energy and the fun had changed. I listened to every girl’s solo album – well I’m lying – I only bought Geri’s and Melanie C’s because the others were too talentless for me to pay attention to them. The first time I came to NYC, I found this ring in a store – really cheap ring – that had Japanese symbols on it. When I asked for the translation, I was told it meant Girl Power. *huge grin*

Years passed, I grew up, but I never forgot about them. I even got my tongue pierced on a whim while I was studying abroad in Berlin in 2006 – naturally I kept the piercing for six months and then I took it off. It’s not easy to eat with those things in your mouth you know. But I’m proud I did it!

Girl Power or pure rebellion, these women made me the woman I am today, and I still would love to meet Geri Halliwell in person. Maybe one day I will. Maybe she’s a real bitch and I will hate her too. Doesn’t matter. She helped me believe in myself and that’s all what counts.

#TheWritersCollection – Once Upon A Time

. Writers Collection

Please visit http://thewriterscollection.com to read more stories…

Once upon a time, on a far away planet called Euganea, lived a man with superior intelligence named Azthul. Azthul had learned how to read the sky, and he knew all the stars and constellations by heart. The Euganeans even said he was the best astronomer in the entire universe.

One day, Azthul was sitting by the window of his observatory. His eyes set behind the lens of his giant telescope, he looked at the sky. After a few seconds, he adjusted the focus of the lens and looked again, but all he could see was a black blur. There was an anomaly with the telescope. He scratched his head. Giving it a third try, he looked through the lens again. But nothing had changed. Determined to fix the problem at hand, he moved away from his stool, picked up his tools, and inspected the telescope. Yet after an hour of searching what could have caused the unexplained blur, he came to the conclusion his equipment worked well. He scratched his head again.

He was clueless. Deep lines wrinkled his forehead as he paced back and forth inside his study, feeling a wave of frustration growing inside. He never had a problem reading the sky before. This didn’t make any sense.

Azthul’s birth had been considered a miracle by all on Euganea. He had been called a savior, a prodigy, the only being who could protect the planet from being destroyed by cosmic ray showers. Without his readings, it would be impossible to know when the next shower would hit. Without his knowledge, the planet would die.

Azthul couldn’t fail the Euganeans. They counted on him. They trusted him.

His hands suddenly started shaking and beads of sweat rolled down each side of his face. A knot tightened in his stomach and forced him down on his knees before he vomited on the floor.

For the first time he felt panic. He wiped his lips and stood up, rushing toward the telescope. Readjusting the focus, he looked at the sky one more time but all he saw was this blackness laughing at him. He could even hear the stars singing in unison – Azthul was a fool for believing he could understand them. He had no control over them, no control over anything, he couldn’t even stop the nausea from making him sicker the more he realized how powerless he had become.

He hid his head in his hands and let out a deep breath. Euganea needed him, and he was unable to come to her rescue. What else could he do?

#TheWritersCollection – Brothers Water

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Please visit the Writers Collection site at: http://thewriterscollection.com/

 

I lost sight of you by the lake, where we used to walk, hand in hand, our mind in unison with the world and our hearts singing the same melody of the love we felt for each other then. I lost sight of you when you told me you couldn’t be with me anymore and I asked you: why, but you didn’t respond and turned away.

Now I stare at the crystalline surface of the water and I let my sorrow grow within my chest until it hurts so much I can’t take the pain anymore and I start throwing rocks at the lake. I hate the reflection of my broken face onto the face of the earth, and I want to end it all. I grab my head between my hands, but I refuse to let go, because I think it’s weak to let go by a lake like a wimp after my girlfriend dumped me. I can’t understand why she did that, and then I think maybe she found another guy, better, smarter, stronger than me, and thinking of that crushes me even more. I can’t accept the ugly truth of her leaving me, because I’m nothing without her.

God wants me to suffer, I extrapolate, I speculate, I discover twists in a plot I just made up on the spot, because I want to feel better, and I don’t want to take responsibility for the jerk I really am. Because she left me. Because she didn’t give me an explanation, that must be her fault for not understanding who I really am, she didn’t make any effort to patch things up and she left because she was the coward. Not me! No, I’m the strong one, the alpha dog in the relationship and I’m sure of it now, she’s going to come back begging for me to take her but I won’t, because I’m such a strong alpha dog and she has no idea what I’m made of. I was born in a cradle of awesomeness, I was made of steel and nothing can break me, not even these feelings that are still inside my heart and I can’t get rid of them for some reason. I don’t get it. I can’t let this affect me like this, I’m a man for godsake! I kick more rocks on the beach of the lake and I stop staring at the water because I’m no romantic wuss after all, I’m tough, I’m able to contain my emotions and I won’t fail, and I won’t let her destroy me like this. I can’t allow it. I won’t allow it.

My hand touches the sand and I hold a big rock in my palm, feeling the rough edges and the cold quartz against my skin, and my fingers play with the idea of hitting something with it, something fragile and soft, something I could kill in one blow. I want to get rid of the pain I feel and this pain must go, so I want to end a life to feel better about myself. But all I see is a dead bird on the shore. I don’t care, the dead bird will do, I have too much hate to go home and forget about it all while drinking a cup of coffee and pretending I’m fine when I know I’m not. So I walk toward the bird and I look at it for a long time. I watch the dead carcass rotting on the beach, the feathers once light and beautiful now a blur of an idea, mere remains of a corpse I’m going to kill again. At least God won’t get mad at me for committing a mortal sin.

I breathe slowly, focusing on the bird, and I smile. I smile for the first time, I feel the heat of a grin fill up my face and I keep that smile as I strike the bird hard, and the brains and bones spatter everywhere, and I feel the need to hit more, so I keep hitting until my hand sinks into the sand and my skin is covered in dried blood, sand and feathers. The smile has left my face and I feel better. I feel relieved, at peace, empty of this burden I was carrying all my way to the lake, not knowing what to do, not knowing what to think. But now everything’s clear.

Today I finally let go of you and it feels way too damn good. I look at the lake again and I forget about us, I forget about my love for you and I let the rock fall and it makes a loud thump when it touches the ground, and I walk away, leaving the still water and all my memories behind me.

#TheWritersCollection – Beaches

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To read the other authors’ posts, please go to http://thewriterscollection.com/

*****

I didn’t grow up near a beach. I grew up in the countryside, surrounded by cows and corn fields. I always imagined the meadow by the house would take me far away to a place where the water looked absolutely transparent, and I could dive in it, swim naked in it, forget about my boring life and focus solely on my dreams. This meant not only fun, but mostly freedom and infinite possibilities.

When I turned fifteen, my father retired and decided to move to the South of France, so from that age up to twenty-two years I lived by the sea. Did my childhood dream come true? Yes and it actually morphed into something deeper than I thought. The water became my element, something I needed to breathe and feel whole. I loved driving down the Moyenne Corniche in my tiny little Fiat Seicento to find the empty beaches where no tourist went, and I stayed there all morning, from eight until noon, swimming most of the time. I also loved to snorkel and one day I even discovered a shipwreck underwater. Seeing that boat at the bottom of the sea made me feel weird inside. I thought of the people who sailed that ship, the storm that smashed the stern into pieces, and I imagined ghosts wandering on the deck, scaring curious witnesses like me. I felt one with the water, one with the world, and I wanted time to stop so I can enjoy it forever.

But the best experience I had happened in Corsica. We were vacationing with friends at the bottom of the island, by Bonifacio. The city sits on a cliff and offers an impressive panorama of the Mediterranean Sea. You feel like the horizon never ends when you stand there and you’re mesmerized at how much beauty Mother Nature throws in your face without you even asking for it.

 

One day we decided to go for a walk on the cliff to take pictures, until one old man driving a car down the road halted and asked us if we wanted to see the most beautiful beach in the world. At first we thought he might be a pervert or a psychopath, but after chatting a bit, we decided to follow him and jumped in his car. We were maybe crazy, certainly adventurous, but there was nothing to regret once we reached the shore he talked to us about.

bugbog.com

White sand for miles. Nobody on the beach to disturb us. Water so warm and so clear you felt you had landed in a surreal environment. I believed only my imagination could have created a world like this one. That day I was proven wrong.

The beach marked my life forever. I will always remember the tiny waves hitting my toes, the tiny fish nibbling my legs, the white sand sticking to my feet, the sun hitting the water surface and creating a perfect mirror, and the little bit of the Sardinia coast I could see on the horizon. That day I was set on leaving France and settling in the United States because I knew in my heart everything was possible.

I’d like to return there someday, maybe with my best friends, maybe with my children, because that beach wasn’t only magical, it was heaven.

Short Story – The Horse #SunStoppedShining #TheWritersCollection

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A bad dream. It was all a bad dream. Laura poked the belly of the animal to make sure it was dead. How could she continue her journey to the Dome without a ride? No way she’d hitchhike with the whackos and criminals wandering the streets since the sun stopped shining five days earlier, right when she celebrated her eighteenth birthday. Talk about a lucky day.

Her best friend Julie had organized the perfect party for her in the basement of her parents’ house while they were on vacation. Five guys, five girls, alcohol, LSD and ecstasy, good music and twelve hours to kill… A real blast. Laura woke up feeling the weight of an arm on her chest, and when she opened her eyes she realized the arm belonged to John. She loved that guy. He was sweet, cute, mostly sweet, no, mostly really cute… She stared at his bright blue eyes and she lost herself thinking she could be his girlfriend until the end of the year. Maybe they could go to prom together and have sex. Having sex was a big deal and she wanted John to be her first one. She wouldn’t regret it if he gave her her first sexual experience because she knew it deep down he’d be fantastic in bed.

Far memories, long gone down a drain of nonsense. Laura bowed her head and tried to contain her anger while walking away from the horse that had collapsed under her. That freaking horse was a piece of crap, just like everything else she found on her way to the Dome. Her friends, yeah “friends”, had ditched her after they stole a car and John, this jerk, drove away without even taking her with him. He said they had to reach the Dome before it was too late. How about their time together, didn’t it mean anything at all? They kissed and shared pills, she even let him slide his hand under her blouse. Such a waste. All she could manage to steal was this deadbeat horse, or was it a mere pony, she had no clue anymore, she spotted as she passed by a field about three days ago. The animal offered no luxury but she needed to move faster and the Dome was miles away. Did it really matter now how far the Dome was? Not really.

She climbed up the stairs back to Julie’s living room, still high from the night before, as she noticed the sky didn’t change color and it was ten in the morning. She didn’t understand why the sun wasn’t up, and she blamed the LSD for altering her vision but what she considered a hallucination soon became an ugly truth to acknowledge. The TV news reports kept repeating the same stuff: an experimental probe had exploded and caused the sun to lose all its nuclear power, the last rays of light had reached the terrestrial surface while she was still asleep and dreaming of making love to John, and now it’d be night forever.

Shit. She violently hit a stone with her foot and cried in pain. She couldn’t see anything, and didn’t even have the brilliant idea to take a flashlight when she left the house. She felt cold, and wrapped herself tighter with her coat. Tears kept rolling down her cheeks but she ignored them. Maybe she’d have to hitchhike after all.

She turned her head and looked behind her, hoping to see car lights in the distance but the road stayed empty and clear of any living soul. All she could see was the dust of the desert dancing in little swirls over the asphalt and she blinked at the stars bursting through the darkness like diamonds. The freezing temperature forced her to sneeze, and her snot instantly stuck to her nose. She shivered more.

She suddenly heard the sound of an engine roar. She stared at the vehicle approaching and moved to the middle of the road, waving her arm at the driver to make him halt.

“You need help?” the old man behind the wheel asked while he pulled down his window. Laura saw a shape in the passenger seat next to him.

“I’m going to the Dome.” She said.

“We’d take ya but how d’we know ya ain’t gonna kill us?” an old woman replied.

“I don’t have a weapon.”

“How d’ya come up here?” the man asked.

“On a horse.”

“Where’s it now?” the woman said.

“Dead.”

The old man didn’t respond and whispered something to his female companion.

“We got nothing to eat, we take ya if ya show us the beast.” He finally mumbled. “Ya walk, and I follow. Now go.”

Laura headed to the ditch where the horse had collapsed an hour earlier. Her feet were aching and she hoped as hell this old couple wouldn’t kill her after she’d lead them to the animal. How did she know they could be trusted? She didn’t. The car lights created a halo around her frame as the old man slowly drove behind her. She finally stopped walking when she recognized the carcass of the horse on the side of the road.

“Here.” She said and the man halted the car.

“Get in.” the old woman ordered, suddenly pointing a twelve gauge sawed off shotgun at Laura’s head.

“Why you wanna shoot me?” Laura yelled, instinctively showing her hands at her aggressor.

“Safety measure ‘til we pull the horse inside the trunk. My Billy need t’cut it in pieces first, and meanwhile I gotta watch ya so you ain’t got the right idea to become criminal on us. Now get in.”

Laura reluctantly moved toward the car, never losing sight of the gun pointed at her. She wouldn’t survive very long if she rode with such hillbillies, but she needed their car and their weapons if she wanted to reach the Dome alive and in one piece.

She slowly opened the back door and jumped in. The right moment for her escape would show soon enough… When Billy finished loading the last piece, he sat behind the wheel and lit a cigarette.

“Good. Now we got one horse and one girl for dinner, Mary. Take care of her for me, will ya?”

Laura felt a blow to her head before she fully processed what the man just said and everything went black.

****

“The criminal cop killing hip-hop filling minimal swap to cop millions of Pac listeners.

Your coming with me, feel it or not you’re gonna fear it like I showed you the spirit of god lives in us. You hear it a lot, lyrics the shock is it a miracle or am I just a product of pop fizzing up. For shizzle my whizzle this is the plot listen up you bizzles forgot slizzle does not give a fuck…”

The future was doomed and primitive needs had become paramount to everything else. Following the beam of his car lights, John shook his head to the beat and his foot instinctively pressed harder on the gas pedal. He needed to reach the Dome before running out of food and water, and the last gas station he passed had already been looted.

He didn’t see another vehicle for miles, and almost came to the conclusion everybody who couldn’t flee on time died until his attention got suddenly caught by a truck halted on the side of the road. The truck’s blinkers were on, flashing through the darkness like two orange fires. He wasn’t sure whether to stop; yet what he saw made him slam on the brake pedal with so much strength, his brains would have decorated the windshield had he not been wearing his seatbelt.

He parked the stolen BMW a few feet ahead and made sure to grab the colt hidden in the glove compartment before heading back to the truck. The air temperature had dramatically dropped, and as soon as he set foot outside his eyes watered and his nose started to run.

It was hard to see inside the truck given the huge amount of blood spattered on all the windows. He carefully circled the car and checked the rear to make sure nobody was ambushing him, and reached for the right back door handle. He pointed the gun at the opening and released the safety.

There was a body lying on the back seat. Two more sat in the front, their head reduced to mere pulp. John reached for the body’s leg and received a kick.

“Can you breathe?” he yelled while holding the colt with shaky hands.

“Help…” the body faintly whispered.

John put the gun away and pulled the body by the legs. A girl. Her face was smeared with blood and half her hair stuck to her skin, but she seemed fine.

“Are you hurt?” John asked, searching for a pulse.

The girl murmured inaudible sounds and he leaned closer to her mouth but couldn’t make up any words she said.

“I’ll take you out of here, alright?” John ran his arm under her waist and carried her out of the truck back to the BMW.

After installing her on the passenger seat, he checked the truck for supplies and found three shotguns and a dead horse cut in a million pieces in the trunk. The stench of the dead animal smelled so strong he almost retched on the side of the road. No need to stick around any longer. He took extra ammo and ran back to the BMW. Turning up the heat he glanced at the girl he rescued and wondered for one second whether it had been such a good idea to play the Samaritan for once. He stared closer at her face and felt like he knew her from somewhere, but she was covered in too much blood to tell exactly what she looked like. Once they’d reach the Dome she could take a bath.

“Soon as a verse starts I eat it at MC’s heart, What is he thinking? How not to go against me? Smart. And it’s absurd how people hang on every word. I’ll probably never get the props I feel I ever deserve, But I’ll never be served my spot is forever reserved, If I ever leave earth that would be the death of me first…”

*****

They drove for hours. John had listened to the same CD over and over again and almost knew all the lyrics by heart. He started to have enough of the ride and wanted to reach the Dome at last.

He glanced from time to time at his passenger and tried to figure out who she reminded him of. The party at Julie’s house felt like a mere blur, and he barely remembered making out with Laura and taking so many drugs he blacked out on the floor of the basement and woke up only to realize the sun had never risen. Once he entered the living room he saw Laura running around like a frantic bug and he tried to calm her down but she kept hitting him, unable to listen, lost in a confusing state he preferred not to witness while he still could run away without anybody noticing. After checking the news, he walked out and searched for a car he could borrow. He had never stolen before, and if things worked out at the Dome he could maybe survive and give sense to the chaos that had so suddenly ruined his life. He didn’t have a real plan about what he’d like to do once he’d be there; he simply needed to find a way out of this mess so he left. Laura cried and begged him to take her with him, but he couldn’t handle a crazy girl on top of the end of the world as he knew it.

After several days he realized he had been driving in the wrong direction. He had wasted precious time and had to turn back; how long would it be until he could find the right road to the Dome and not give up complete hope? Despite knowing the Dome existed, nobody told him exactly where it was located as the number of free spots was extremely limited. Like a lottery system, only the fittest could have access to a life away from darkness and certain death by hypothermia. He knew he could make it. If only he hadn’t taken the wrong road, he’d probably be there by now.

The girl seemed in shock. She had been sleeping for so long it seemed she’d never wake up. How did the two other bodies die in the car? Did she shoot them? Was she their captive?

John sighed and tried to relax the muscles of his neck. He could feel the fatigue slowly taking him over, but he had to keep moving. No more time could be wasted.

******

John’s head hurt like hell. He opened his eyes but couldn’t see much ahead of him. Darkness everywhere. He also couldn’t hear a thing besides his own breathing and his face seemed wet.

Why was he not driving? The throbbing pulse of blood in his head made him dizzy. Was he upside down? His hand ran along the dashboard, searching for the glove box handle. He had to move slowly because his ribcage ached every time he exhaled and after a few seconds he took a break. He sat so close yet so far from the flashlight and the seatbelt prevented him from moving freely inside the vehicle. What if he unbuckled it?

Searching for the release button, he felt something warm. An arm. The girl next to him. Was she dead? He heard the dripping of blood on the ceiling and wondered the extent of his head injury. He couldn’t panic now. Scalp wounds were supposed to bleed extensively. All he had to do was find the freaking seatbelt button and get out of the wreckage then he could worry about the rest.

The Dome. How could he reach the Dome? Everything had turned to shit. Dammit. He landed right on his head when he finally got out of his harness. Ouch! The glove box. Once he held the flashlight he crawled out of the car.

Maybe not seeing anything was a better idea after all. A tree branch had pierced the windshield like butter and impaled his passenger right in the middle of the chest. You talk about a spectacle. He didn’t have time to think twice before emptying the content of his stomach on the side of the road. The retching lasted a while before he could look at the car again without feeling nauseous anymore. And now what?

He quickly started to cough blood and the pain in his brain became unbearable, causing blurry vision and disturbing his balance. The coughing increased and he felt like air was missing. Maybe a broken rib had pierced one of his lungs?

Come on! The flashlight fell to the ground and John collapsed to his knees, catching a last bit of oxygen and he rolled to his side, his mouth stuck to the asphalt, his face covered in dirt and his eyes staring at the darkness, suddenly thinking of a dead horse head stuck in a trunk. Who cared about the end of the world? Where he was heading now, he needed no warmth and no hope.

The sun stopped shining and he died from a car accident. Way to go buddy.      

#TheWritersCollection – Henry VIII

. Short Story, Writers Collection

Hello folks!

As part of the Writers Collection http://www.thewriterscollection.com/, I present to you my take on Henry VIII.

Enjoy!

*******

She looked at me stupefied. She didn’t expect me to say I had no idea what she was talking about.

“How is it possible you don’t know Henry VIII! Haven’t you paid attention in school?” She asked as her eyes grew wider with every word she uttered.

“Why?” I wanted to give her attitude but something stopped me midway. Was it a feeling of guilt, or maybe the simple fact I cared about her too much to hurt her by my childish behavior? She stared at me, her face expressing a fascinating mixture of frustration and disbelief. “Did it prevent me from passing last year?” I added. “I didn’t think so.”

I hoped for the discussion to end there, me being right and her being wrong. I didn’t care about Henry VIII; I only sought to sit by her side and breathe the delicious vanilla scent of her fragrance. Her long dark hair fell on her shoulders and her back like waves of the softest silk. Every inch of my body desired her yet I had to stay patient. I couldn’t spoil any opportunity I got, especially not with her. She was too precious.

My eyes discreetly wandered along the curves of her hips and thighs as she repositioned herself on the couch. She held a book open on her lap, and I imagined I was every page she delicately brushed with her fingertips.

“Well… If you don’t learn about Henry VIII now, you won’t pass this class.” She glanced at me and her mouth pouted in the cutest way. How I longed to hold her face between my hands and land a kiss on her beautiful mouth!

“Are you listening to me?” she asked, annoyed by my visible inattention. “I won’t help you if you keep thinking what we learn in history class isn’t important. You need to step up your game if you want a college scholarship, you know that right?”

Her eyes gave me an accusatory look. Yes, I knew it. My parents kept feeding me evening dinner speeches and used every occasion to order me to graduate with honors. I was only seventeen for godsake! I stared at Rachel and fainted a guilty smile.

“So if I learn about Henry VIII, will you go out with me?”

Her face instantly blushed and she looked away. “You think I help you only to make you my boyfriend?” I could hear exasperation in her voice.

“Well don’t you think I’d make a great boyfriend?” I asked while leaning closer to her. The smell of her perfume overpowered my senses and I had to control myself not to eat her alive on the spot.

“I don’t think anything,” she replied, and her pout increased. “I can’t believe you’re trying to seduce me while I’m here helping you with your grades.”

I could see she was upset, but I also knew she liked to be a little dramatic. I gently placed my hand over hers and stroked one of her fingers. She didn’t remove her hand.

“Listen, why don’t we make a deal? We’ve known each other for how long?” I leaned a bit closer until my shoulder slightly touched hers. “Since we were eight, right? So you should know by now whether I’d make a good boyfriend. You wouldn’t help me with my studies if you didn’t like me a little.” My smile transformed into a grin.

“I don’t like you like that,” she answered but didn’t move away nor withdrew her hand from under mine. I kept stroking her finger.

“Oh yeah?” I asked, amused. “So how do you like me?” My face was attracted to her neck, and her perfume made me drunk.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. I could tell she didn’t know how to react to my advances, but I also sensed she didn’t dislike the idea of me holding her hand.

“I’ll learn anything you want me to know about Henry VIII,” I whispered back. She immediately locked her eyes with mine and stared at me.

“Are you really serious about dating me?” she asked, a small hesitation in her voice.

“Of course I am.” My hand stroked hers harder.

She closed her eyes and I followed the movement of her face coming toward me until our lips touched and a thrill ran up and down my spine. It felt like an electrical rush throughout my limbs. I pressed on her hand, she tightened her grip around my fingers and time simply stopped.

When we finally looked into each other’s eyes, I could see a light in hers I’d never seen before. A little spark of excitement mixed with a fire of desire I never thought she could feel about me. It made me swarm with pleasure and I gave her another long kiss.

I didn’t study anything about Henry VIII that day, but I earned Rachel’s love. To me, it was the best thing in the world. Naturally after dating for a few days she forced me back into studying harder, but I never refused her scolding as I knew I’d be holding her tight against me moments later.

At the end of the year, I graduated with honors and we attended the same college. After four years, she finally became my wife.

I didn’t know history lessons could bring so much happiness…

#TheWritersCollection – Christmas

. Writers Collection

Hi everybody!

I recently became an author at The Writers Collection – and every Monday I’m going to blog about one theme along with nine other exceptional writers/authors. Please visit the site to read everybody’s post, as everybody’s take is different.

This week I’m tackling Christmas.

Next Monday, the theme will be Henry VIII.

Thank you for reading!!

********

Christmas

 

That time of the year has come again. I know the excitement will finally take me over when I see the tree by Rockerfeller Center. Tourists swarm around the massive, gorgeously-lit pine, snapping one hundred shots of it, maybe they want to become one with it too, I think. Life as I know it taught me weird tales about Christmas.

As a child, I adored it. Of course, Santa was my best friend. He always dropped wonderful surprises on December 25, and I spent the day playing among others with my Legos, train tracks, toy cars and big girl bikes (without back wheels). The fantasy unfortunately died the day I realized Santa was my parents. What a horrible lie! The world opened below my feet and swallowed my innocence whole. Nothing could be fixed from that moment on. I had to mature and move on with my life.

As a teenager, Christmas became a shopping splurge. Not necessarily for me, but mostly for my parents and friends. I started saving the change my dad used to give me every week, and I used it to purchase big beautiful presents for everybody I loved. I sometimes, no often, went overboard. But I loved it. Christmas is supposed to be about giving and sharing. I didn’t care whether I received nothing in return. The sole idea of buying made me happy.

As a young adult, I spent Christmas with friends. I flew to the United States and for two winter weeks traveled across New York State, up to the Canadian border, and celebrated the holidays mostly with strangers, but it was a lot of fun. I fell in love with the countryside then, and cried my heart out when I had to go back to France. I knew I was meant to live there forever. At twenty-one years old, I knew I was meant to become an American.

I later met my husband and thanked God for hearing my prayers. I celebrated the following Christmases with him and his family. I visited South Carolina, got married there, and discovered the South of the United States. It was obviously something different, but I loved it all the same. I didn’t regret starting my life over again in a new country with new people and a new culture. On the contrary, it made me feel whole again. The first few years were truly wonderful, but as the relationship deteriorated, celebrating Christmas became more an obligation than a pleasure. I bought lots of gifts to hide from the pain I went through, and the more money I spent, the fuller I felt. Last Christmas, I however felt extremely empty. I didn’t have it in me to continue the journey like this anymore. I didn’t have the strength to play games. My love had died.

The separation happened shortly after New Year’s Eve. Ugly circumstances pushed me out of the household, forcing me to have an honest grip with reality. I faced my worst demons and fears, encountered a lot of obstacles, and wondered whether I made the right choice. I thought of the past and fantasized about the future. I started writing again, and I found new loving friends. I undertook a slow revolution that transported me further than I could ever have imagined.

And now here we are. It’s time to celebrate Christmas. I’ll light up the tree alone this year, surrounded by my relatives and closest friends. I’ll bake the turkey and prepare a feast according to the oldest French tradition. I’ll drink champagne in newly bought crystal glasses and eat off newly bought ceramic plates. God, fate, luck changed my life once more and I made it all the way through, stronger and happier than ever.

Christmas is all about love. Everywhere I can feel it. It overwhelms you and shows you a new side of things. The familiar scent of trees displayed on the street drives my senses wild, and I look forward to sitting at the table to share an unforgettable meal. I’ll never grow tired of it. I’ll never hate it. Despite hard times, I’ll always smile through the tears.

Merry Christmas everybody!