Jump to content


Author: Author
  • Content Count

  • Joined

  • Last visited

Community Reputation

925 I Make This Look Easy


About MericCotton

  • Rank
    Cool Member

Profile Information

  • Age in Years

Recent Profile Visitors

The recent visitors block is disabled and is not being shown to other users.

  1. Thanks! It's good to be back, even if I'm not writing "full" chapters yet.
  2. “Boss, if you don’t sit still, I can’t get you ready.” Nelson struck at Enderson’s hand as the older man tried to mess with the tie in Nelson’s hands. “Then Let.Me.Have it,” Enderson replied, finally wresting the fabric from the driver. “I was tying these things before you were a spark in your father’s eyes.” He fought with the tie a few moments before his hands flew up in frustration. “These things must have been invented by women as torture for their men.” He looked up at his driver and bodyguard. “Don’t just stand there, Pike. Fix it.” “Yes sir,” the man replied as he stepped forward and began again to make a proper bow. He concentrated on his hands briefly until he had the bow tied and was adjusting it. “Might I ask why the formality tonight?” “I’m meeting my son tonight.” Enderson paused in thought. “That does sound a bit odd. And the thought that I’ll be convincing my eldest son to adopt my youngest son …” “Sounds like a typical Enderson Tate exchange to me,” Nelson quipped with a grin. Enderson glared at his driver/bodyguard, but his eyes gave away his humor. He checked in the mirror before him as Nelson finished the bow tie. “Thank you, Pike. Well done.” “Thank you sir.” Nelson bowed his head slightly before turning and walking out. “And now we start Phase Two,” the head of Tate Industries said to himself. He ran a hand through his thick greying hair then turned and rolled himself out of his room. Enderson was pouring his second glass of bourbon when the front door chime sounded. He put the glass down and turned his chair as Carlson opened the door and Dr. Kemp walked in. “Thank you, Carlson.” The doctor looked across the room. “Good evening, Mr. Tate. I have a package for you.” “Poor choice of words, Doctor,” came the reply. “Bring me my son.” Kemp carefully laid the infant in Enderson’s arms. At four months, the child was healthy and alert. The old man smiled as he looked at the child and his face took on the appearance of one very self-satisfied. “Remarkable,” was all he said before looking back to Dr. Kemp. “The mother has been taken care of?” “As you requested,” the doctor replied. “Good. Not a price I would typically want to pay, but under the circumstances, acceptable. That will be all.” “Yes sir.” “Enderson waited until the doctor had left before looking at the boy that lay on his lap. “Well, little one, welcome to your world. It will try to dominate you, crush you, but you are a Tate, and you shall overcome it. As I have done, you shall continue to do.” He smiled, silver glinting in his cold eyes. “The future awaits us, and we must be ready.” He glanced toward the front door as it opened and he heard Carlson greeting Michael and Byron. He glanced back to his new son and inhaled sharply. Did I see the spark in his eyes, so much like mine? Or was that a trick of the lighting? He didn’t have time to check anything as his older son walked in the room, looking more than a little apprehensive. “So … um … my brother?” was all Michael managed. “Brother to become son, hopefully,” Enderson answered. “Come on, Enderson won’t bite. Hold him.” Michael started to pick up the child then stopped short. “Enderson? You named him Enderson?” He took a step back and looked disbelieving at Enderson. His father arched a brow. “Is there a problem naming my son after myself?” Byron spoke up. “Well, sir, don’t you think we should name our son? Or Michael, at least?” “You want to name him Michael?” “Actually, Father, we were thinking, that if we adopt him, we might call him ‘Anderson Daniel Tate’. “Anderson. Not Enderson.” It was not a question. “That way we can call him Andy.” Byron replied, gushing. “Andy?” Enderson retorted in surprise. He paused for a breath then smiled. “Well, as your son you have that right.” The smile did not even approach his eyes. “If we adopt, Father,” Michael stated flatly. “That decision still hasn’t been made.” “I understand,” his father responded. He glanced around the room. “Carlson!” The child in his lap woke with a start and began to cry, bringing a frown to the elder Tate’s lips. “I had forgotten how easily babies can be startled.” To his son’s surprise, he lifted the child to his shoulder, patted his back lightly, and whispered gently to him until the butler stepped in the room. “Yes, Mr. Tate?” “Ask the nurse to come get young Ender… excuse me, Anderson.” Carlson barely lofted a brow. “Right away, sir.” Enderson turned to his son and son-in-law. “You will stay for dinner. I will hear what else is going on in your lives.” He stopped briefly. “Before we discuss why you think there’s still a question in your adopting your brother.” Michael and Byron passed knowing looks before the younger Tate answered. “Of course, Father.”
  3. Thanks. Hope Enderson doesn't get any harder to read ....
  4. MericCotton

    Eve of Forever

    Thanks. This one was tricky to get the way I wanted. There are still a couple rough passages, but I'm happy with it.
  5. LOL! I'm sure his blood is red, yes...
  6. By the time they reached the turn off for the house, Michael felt like he had gone eight rounds with the heavy-weight champion of the world. Enderson had read him the riot act about not being supportive, having betrayed his own father, what would his mother say, and the like. Michael had remained quiet with the exception of an occasional "yes sir" or "sorry sir". He understood his father too well to try to debate or speak against the man's tirade. The man had to get it out of his system, and that meant berating whomever he had handy. But it was always followed, eventually, by an apology. Sadly, however, it always felt there was more money involved with the apology than genuine remorse. Michael glanced out and smiled as the sedan slowed and stopped, waiting for the ornate gates to the property to finish opening. Enderson grew quiet as they pulled to the gates – his mind walking through distant memories. Michael was only eight when they were installed. He had climbed one of them and rode it as they tested operation. Enderson smiled at the memory. Michael's mother was not pleased with her son on the automated gates, but Enderson had insisted he was fine. Michael was lost in the same memories. He could see so far from hanging on the gate. He had been giggling, acting like a cowboy riding a bucking bronco… "Enderson, get him down from there. He's going to get hurt." "He's fine, Susan. Let him be a boy. Just look at the joy on his face." "Enderson, it's already past his bedtime and tomorrow is school." "All right. Michael, it's time to get down now. Michael – now son. Michael…" "Michael?" He blinked and looked around, snapping back to the present. "Oh, sorry Father. Was remembering." Enderson nodded. "Yes, I thought that's where you had gone." Michael wiped an eye. "Sometimes…" "I know, son. I miss her too." Nelson began the drive up to the house and both men moved to face each other directly. Enderson paused only a moment as the car slowly wove its way around the hairpin turns towards the mansion. "Have you thought lately about my request?" "Byron and I talk about it almost every day, Father." "I appreciate that. I just don't want to be caught unprepared when the child is born." "We're not that close, are we?" "Kemp says eight weeks, max." "So we have time yet. This isn't a business merger, Father. We're not going to miss the prime bank rate if we don't act now." Enderson chuckled. "I guess you have paid attention to at least some of what I've taught." "Thanks for noticing. But really, Father – we are taking this very seriously." "Could you at least tell me which way you're leaning?" "Looking for insider information?" "Michael." His father's tone made the young man flinch. His response was subdued – edged with frustration. "I can understand the baby being adopted so he's legally and fully a 'Tate'. I'm just not sure I'm up to the task. Byron, on the other hand, is excited about the idea of being a 'Dad'. I just don't know." Enderson contained his smile though his eyes glinted ice. "Thank you. It's good to know you haven't discounted the idea of having him officially in the family." "Him?" "The child. I suppose I'm getting the cart well before the horse … call it wishful thinking." "Ah. I thought maybe you had heard. Seems you say 'him' any time you speak of it." "The sex of the child? No. The mother hasn't offered and I don't suppose it's my place to impose. Son or daughter, the child is mine. And either term sounds better than 'it'." Michael leaned back in his seat, giving his father a long study. Enderson caught his son's gaze and arched a brow. "Something else on your mind?" "A little surprised at how evenly you seem to be taking this whole thing, I suppose. If I didn't know better, I'd say you planned it." The older man chuckled. "Trust me, Michael, being a father again at this stage of my life is not something I would choose, much less orchestrate." Michael nodded, his face still tattooed with doubt. "Maybe. Though it's a good way to get me to be a father earlier than I had planned." Enderson sighed. "I do not scheme to control your life, son. If I did…" He cut himself off. "I know – you'd have me married to a woman." "Once, perhaps," Enderson admitted, "but not now. I have accepted who you are and that it isn't a choice for you." The son visibly relaxed. "Thanks, Father. I know it hasn't been an easy thing for you to accept." He paused briefly. "For what it's worth, it wasn't easy for me at first." Enderson cocked his head to one side, observing his son. "No … I suppose it wasn't. Your mother was gone, and you had to deal with me as your father." "Accepting that I wasn't 'sick or perverted' was the first mountain. And, actually, telling you was easier than I had originally thought." "And why is that?" "You have never hidden your thoughts or beliefs. I knew whichever way you reacted, for or against, it would be strong – and there would be little to no chance of me changing it." "Am I that dictatorial? I try to hear all sides of an argument." "Yes … I suppose that's true. But it takes a lot to sway you." Enderson laughed softly. "In truth, I was ready to disown you." "What changed?" The older Tate looked out the window across from him, his eyes distant. "Susan. I thought about how she would have reacted. Even with her strong faith, I knew there was nothing that would make her love for you decrease one iota. Her faith would have to adjust." He turned to look his son in the eye. "I had to take both sides and weigh them out. You are my son. I could not do less than your precious Mother would do." Michael teared up and leaned across the car, giving his father a brief hug. When he moved back, he almost looked guilty for taking such freedom. Enderson smiled. "Thank you, Michael." He glanced out the front of the car. The son wiped his eyes. "Thank you, Father." Enderson sat more straight as the car pulled into the turn-around at the front door. One near disaster averted, he thought as Nelson opened his door. He stepped out, thanked his driver, and headed for the front door. Michael followed, once again studying the man before him. Where did you go, Father? It was like a hangar door slamming shut, closing you away from me
  7. 'Twas the Eve of Forever when first they did meet, To taste bitter conflict with misery so sweet it did darken the sun, And brighten the night. On the Eve of Forever when Fate first took flight. In forbearing forgiveness they sought out true love, Ignoring the warnings sent down from above, they moved towards each other, Their steps slow and sure. On the Eve of Forever – their hopes and dreams pure. While within their hearts, nestled, they harbored their fears, Alone and forsaken, through heartbreak and tears on the voyage they traveled, In search of their peace. On the Eve of Forever their souls sought release. Constrained to each other, yet enslaved to no man, Lost in the eternal they strode hand in hand to the edge of their longing, The tip of the blade. On the Eve of Forever their sorrow replayed. Their joy now forgotten and devotion long past, First not understanding, they found now at last the true fruit of their mission, A purpose most chilled. On the Eve of Forever all hope was soon stilled. How acrid the aroma of lives that were lost, Searching for meaning, regardless of cost the two put down their own value, Forgetting the heart. On the Eve of Forever their finish did start. Though they could not have known of the peril and shame, Chosen, selected, they alone bore the blame of the conflict so bitter, And sadness so sweet. On the Eve of Forever – when first they did meet.
  8. fingers slide over the keys as my soul listens listens ever so closely for a note just one note that touches for once a note is found a second is that much easier and a third fourth and from the depths of despair comes a symphony of hope and longing shadows fade and darkness quivers as the light breaks forth note by note
  9. MericCotton


    all i feel when i read it is how right the thing is
  10. MericCotton


  11. A brick fell out of the wall the other day and for the first time ever I didn't put it back. I have you to thank. You see, until now, I've never wanted to know what was over there on the other side of the wall. I just never realized there were nice people in the world. But now I'm wondering ... maybe I don't need the wall? - - - - - - - - - - - - Today I put all bricks back in their proper places There is much to be said for safety not so much mine but that of others
  12. "blue butterfly" ... somehow I believe in at least one person's heart you ARE a "blue butterfly" and not an ugly slug. even in my mind, you are much closer to butterfly than slug but then, what do I know?
  13. MericCotton

    a sister's love

    that's why the warning at the beginning ... and if you're scared - imagine being woken up at 3 am by that "vision"
  14. In silence she moves the air itself doesn’t betray her presence there is nothing to announce her arrival She walks slowly bulbous eyes locked on the floor where, in the center her prize awaits She approaches the ball slowly like a cat stalking it’s lunch so does she move Her eyes burning with the hunger of her crazed desires She reaches the boy strokes his hair her defensive hard shell strangely soft her touch deceitfully gentle He tightens against her presence but she murmers almost purrs as her eight legs begin to pry at him unfolding his frame until he lies before her, unable to move Her fangs drip with the venom of her lust and he closes his eyes, wishing himself gone as she bends down and begins her feast taking what she wishes leaving him filled with shame humiliation fear For a while he is gone . . . his body remains yet he is not present until she finishes allowing him once more to curl into a ball She hovers over him eight legs encircling him like bars of a cage She wraps him with her silk comforting in the warmth it brings though so surrounded he cannot move Being so bound to her by her he has no hope of freedom She hums to him as she slides through the darkness - her song of sisterly affection . . . securing the line to his cocoon within the shadows where he will wait until once again she wants to play
  15. MericCotton

    Eyes of Love

    "your faith in Him is all there is." therein lies the truth that gets me thru the darkest days and coldest nights. Thank you for sharing.
  • Create New...

Important Information

Our Privacy Policy can be found here. We have placed cookies on your device to help make this website better. You can adjust your cookie settings, otherwise we'll assume you're okay to continue..