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aditus

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aditus last won the day on March 11

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About aditus

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  • Age in Years
    32
  • Favorite Genres
    Paranormal
  • Location
    Europe
  • Interests
    Photography, cooking, science, research and the obvious: reading, writing, dogs, cats, my Cali

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  1. aditus

    #761

    They need to frequent another club/city?
  2. aditus

    #761

    In English, no. In German though: Dürre-erschütterung....
  3. aditus

    #761

    Thank you, Wayne! Maybe another prompt...
  4. aditus

    #761

    My mind was exactly there...in the gutter, haha. I just thought I'd use a name with an umlaut for @droughtquake, Thank you for your comment and making me grin, Tim.
  5. aditus

    #761

    they play this game as a reminder to Tony of his cheating Exactly, and of Ian's forgiveness. Thank you for reading this and for your comment, Gary.
  6. Sometimes one needs both forms to express themselves. Your muse has something in common with mine.
  7. aditus

    #761

    No, no, no, no, no! LOL! Thank you for the comment, Val.
  8. Sorry, I'm still stuck with Kabal. Done. Here's my prompt piece.
  9. aditus

    #761

    “Ian?” I let go of Tony’s hand immediately and watched him fall back on his ass. “Hey!” Knowing him, he’d find lots of people to help him up. I can’t suppress the snort while I’m heading towards the club’s entrance. Inside I go straight to the bar. Luckily, Sam’s behind it. “Beer?” “Whiskey, neat.” Frowning, she tilts her head to the right. “What happened?” “Tony.” She immediately scans the room. “I ran into him in the parking lot.” “Fuck! I can ask Brian to throw his cheating ass out as soon as he shows.” “Naw, free country and all.” “Generous. I’d do it, though.” She eyes me critically, then a salacious grin appears on her face. “You’re on the hunt! Finally!” She glanced around. “I can see at least three prospects.” “Yeah, only working and watching television is getting old.” “Beefcake on your six.” “Blech!” “Twink interceptor just cleared the situation.” I shake my head at her. “What’s up with you tonight? Next, you’ll slam the shotgun you don’t have on the bar and yell ‘Out ye’ fuckers’?” “I’m thinking about selling.” “Ah, that time of the year.” She flips me the finger. “Fuck off!” Then she purrs, ”Tall, dark, and handsome on the prowl. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him.” I quickly take a swig of my whiskey. “Can I get you another one?” The guy’s deep voice held the barest hint of an accent I couldn’t place. I put the glass down, turned to him ready to politely decline, only the words got stuck in my throat. Short dark hair, taller than me, which was a rare feat: nice. But my gaze was drawn to the mocking grin twisting his full lips. Without thinking, I answered, “Um...yeah.” Sam snorted at my eloquent words. Then she asked him, “What can I get you?” “Do you have any German beer?” “Only Pilsener.” He scrunched his face. “Gimme anything you have on tap then.” “So, you’re from Germany?” He immediately grinned. “Nope. It’s my pick–up order.” “Your pick-up order?” Then I got it. I held out my hand. “The name is Ian. Nice to meet you Günther.” For a short moment he stared at me as if I’d grown a second head, then a laugh burst out of him. “Enough of getting to know each other, don’t you think? Let’s dance!” I drained my glass. “Sure,” I said and followed him on to the dance floor. Seeing the others eye-fucking him, while we’re making our way through sweaty, gyrating bodies, I knew I chose well. Sliding my hands around his waist, I pulled him against my chest. Feeling him pushing his bulge against mine, I knew dancing with Günther would be no chore. Looping my arms around his neck, I felt a brief vibration in my left pants pocket. “Fucking Tony.” “What? Who’s Tony?” “My ex.” I leaned into him, nipped at his ear, and whispered, “So, I live close by, five minutes by cab max. Shall we?” Günther laughs. “No beating around the bush, huh?” “Too forward? It’s why I came here tonight.” Without further ado, he grabs my hand and pulls me towards the entrance. A short wave to a broad grinning Sam, giving me the thumbs up, and we stand outside on the street. I look around for a cab, when my phone rings. I look on the screen and smile apologetically at Günther. “Sorry, I have to take this.” “The band is about to play.” “Shit!” I pull at Günther’s sleeve, when he stops a cab. “I totally forgot I’d promised to meet some people at a bar. One of our friends’ band has a gig tonight. Can we go there for a few minutes?” Günther isn’t happy. “Sure.” We jump into the car he was able to snatch. “To the Poetic Piano please.” The drive isn’t long. “That’s a funny name.” “The owners couldn’t decide what to focus on with the name. They’re doing poetry readings-slash poetry slams too.” I open the door of the bar, and who’s chatting amicably with the bartender? Fucking Tony! I look around for my friends and find them sitting at a small table right off the stage. After the first break, I ask Günther, “Do you mind getting out of here?” Tony is long gone, but I’ve lost any interest in listening to music. We say good-bye to my friends. Outside, Günther leans against my side. Nuzzling my throat he mumbles, “Fucking now?” I can’t restrain my giggle at his bluntness. “After I had a bite to eat. The sight of my ex for a second time this evening has my stomach eating itself. Food calms me.” I look at his falling face. Rubbing my body against his, I suck his earlobe into my mouth. “Please....” “Fine!” “I know a diner close by that serves a mean veggie burger.” Günther gapes incredulously at me. “Are you fucking serious? Veggie burger?” “Calm down, they have juicy and bloody burgers too.” Fucking carnivores. Günther opens the door to the diner... “Fucking Tony!” I storm towards the man sitting at one of the tables. “Your date just left.” I brace my hands against the railing of the balcony and watch the city’s twinkling lights. On my right side, a glass with red wine appears seemingly out of nowhere. “Happy anniversary, baby.” I leaned into his warm body. “To you, too.” “Do you ever regret forgiving me?” “Never.” We clink glasses. “Till next year, when we do it again.”
  10. Narrows eyes...#761 is prickly enough.
  11. There were some truly outstanding poems in that collection. Just saying.... Thank you, Gary! I loved your encouraging comments. A year ago, I didn't think I'd be able to write again, let alone poems.
  12. Poems with an accent I like to write. However, why attempt to write in a language other than the one I learned first. One reason: Over 130 Million people speak German (https://www.deutschland.de/en/topic/culture/the-german-language-surprising-facts-and-figures) More than 3 Billion people speak/understand English. Duh. I’ve come a long way from There is a cat. The cat is fat. The cat lies on a mat. to my first novel long story written in English. Red Running Shoes. Which I could only accomplish with the tremendous help of my first editor @Lisa. I could write a whole essay about how much she helped me. Anyway, it doesn’t matter how it sounds when I read a story to myself. When one reads it in their head, they hear no accent. At least not my horrible accent. Of course, I had to write poetry next. I blame @AC Benus and his poetry prompts. However, poetry is an entirely different matter than prose. There are those pesky things like meter, rhyme, and rhythm among other phonetic hurdles. Fear not, I won’t launch into an explanation of poetic devices now. There are people who are much more competent than I am. The point is: It is important how a poem sounds. I had this conversation with Irri about oregano of all things. In English it’s oregano. In German it’s oregano. Depending on which language you hear in your head it can screw with meter. Better not try poetry? Once started, I couldn’t stop. To me, a poem is a condensed moment. A poignant thought. A clarified feeling and many more. And always a song. Since @Valkyrie introduced me to the NaPoWriMo challenge, I learned how the perspective of my world could change for a month, an interesting, and addictive experience. I know my poems are not perfect. I grudgingly stopped aiming for perfection some while ago. It has to feel right. Therefore, I stubbornly continue writing poems with an accent.
  13. aditus

    Chapter 18 Wake Up!

    Even if you'd put it on a billboard those who need to read this wouldn't want to understand.
  14. aditus

    #759

    Thank you, Gary! @Timothy M. infected me with the alliteration virus.
  15. aditus

    #759

    Thank you!
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