KHCombe
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Everything posted by KHCombe
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Again, thanks for the review. It's lovely to hear my story is appreciated As for Dido's Lament - there's still enough story left to put it in, so just wait and see I've seen Dido and Aeneas been performed by the King's Consort actually, earlier this year. I'll never forget that, it was beautiful..
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Even at a distance of less than twenty meters, no one was to be seen at the place Ernest supposedly had went to. All the bags and clothes they’d left were still lying in an undisturbed circle. It wasn’t until Tristan had set another ten steps that he heard something rustling on top of the dune. Once he’d conquered the hill with a very sandy skin as a result, his premonition was confirmed; Ernest sat, still wearing just a pair of swim shorts, on top of the dune. His knees were pulled to his ches
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I'm a bit scared this is only the 'start', as this is the longest story I've written on...ever. To think everything has just started at chapter 6 is a bit frightening, but I'll just keep on writing, and you'll get to know everyone better
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Thanks Every chapter title, as you probably have noticed, is named after a dance from a suite. I try to match the moods of the dances with the mood of the chapter. And indeed, Tristan will have to start over again, somehow.
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On the ride back to the hotel, neither of them had spoken. The first tourists were hiking towards the beach at this moment; time hadn’t halted during the early event and it was half past eight now. The elderly couples, dressed like they were to climb Mount Everest, greeted the two cyclists on their way up. Both men looked like they needed some sleep. “Ernest! Good morning! Oh, hi Tristan. Everything okay?” Upon arrival they were greeted by Ids, one of the well-dressed lecturers in Dutch, who ap
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4SXsuZt_pj0 I have absolutely no clue why it says "Huckleberry Finn" in the corner, so just ignore that..
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It's my pleasure The fact you seem to like it, is more than enough! And about the pace: I just don't want to rush the story. I mean, real life isn't hurried, so why would this story be?
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Note: this relatively heavy chapter deals with depression. If you're sensitive to reading about such feelings, please be careful in your decision whether or not to read this. (from the previous chapter:) His speech was interrupted by a pair of slightly cracked lips kissing his. Fuck. - Tristan pulled his head away a bit too slow to have considered it a reflex. To hide his own insecurities he quickly stood up and took a few steps away from the bed. “What…Why… Why the hell did you do
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Happy birthday, Layla!
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“Rise.. rise.. rise, glory riiiiiiise! Pam-padam-pam!” Cold water sprayed from the showerhead, before trickling down a dark-haired head. It wasn’t that they didn’t have warm water or anything, but a cold shower after working in the garden all morning didn’t hurt. “Beat the drum, pam-pada-dam!” It hadn’t even been his idea to install a radio in the bathroom. Mara liked a bit of jazz while brushing her teeth, some Satie while taking a bath and even, once in a while, a sliver of baroque to go w
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It had been two months since Sigurd had left to Norway, leaving a vacancy and an empty space behind. Thirty-seven days ago, just a bit later than planned, the emptiness had been filled by Sara, or Saartje. The newborn girl was maybe somewhat young to teach physics, but as a daughter she got all the attention she deserved. The moment she’d arrived, Tristan had felt an overwhelming feeling of joy and pride, it was. Of course one could not expect otherwise, but the arrival of a baby remained one o
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Even though the previous evening had looked promising, this morning everything looked grey and wet. A thin film of water covered everything that hadn´t been able to hide from the rain. Bike seats were humid because of the heat they still contained and the morning newspaper felt damp. The black ink from the headlines was spreading around them, while the photographs slowly dissected intro a three-coloured palette. Now it just looked like autumn. It was still spring, though, and Tristan awoke to
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Ricky, I really, réally appreciate your comment (and welcome) a lot. Of course it was hard at first, but without him I'd probably never found this wonderful site ;-) I started writing now too, so I'm preparing to become completely addicted to hanging around in this community. Groetjes!
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Thanks for the review! It'll be my first 'longer' story with a slowly unfolding plot, so I'm experimenting a lot. I chose the subject of music to make sure I've got at least a little bit of inspiration at all times. And I will post again, ofcourse! Thanks again!
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“Come here, show me your drawing. What a beautiful car! Daddy’s not nearly as good as you are, love. And who’s sitting in the car? Mum and Sara in the front seats, okay. But isn’t Sara way too little to drive? Ah, mum’s driving, of course. And me and you in the back. That’s nice. And what are we doing then, when mum’s driving? We have to think of something… We can hide. For each other. Then you’ll find me first, before I find you. Nice plan. And then we’ll drink tea and hum silly songs, just lik
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Life's great and stable. Being married, having (almost) two children, a house, a job teaching English; Tristan ought to be happy. He is, well, most of the time. Things change with the arrival of a new colleague. A love of baroque music seems the first similarity between them; follow how a simple harpsichord suite expands to overlap life.
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Emotional and Psychological responses to Pornography
KHCombe replied to Sasha Distan's topic in The Lounge
I watched two videos in my life so far; one showing a straight couple and one showing two men. I'm a bit ashamed to admit the underlying reason; I couldn't believe that people could actually 'fit into each other' like that. Well, after watching, I definitely knew it was possible... Graphic porn doesn't appeal to me at all. Written scenes, however, can be very pleasant to read, even though I lack the skill to create mental images with it. So mostly, for me, it's about education.
