MericCotton
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Everything posted by MericCotton
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Thanks, my friend. I usually don't dig him up unless he's already been messing with my sleep.
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the sun rises and my head is hungover with remnants of the nightmares that plagued my sleep he is here he is always here head thrown back as his body shakes with raucous laughter at my expense I close my eyes only to see his face my body quakes with fear as I hold back screams of terror too much therapy yet the scene continues to play empty medicine bottles that held empty promises that the current one was the right one the sky dims early today and the air turn
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I love these - my fav has to be the heron - "hoping for hopping" These are great - I am LOUSY at haiku, so a little jealous. Thanks for sharing them!
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Don't shoot me - but that's a little planned
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Enderson is definitely amiable - when it is warranted. As for future events - the characters haven't let me in on what they have planned yet, so we'll find out together Thanks for reading and commenting!
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Good questions. I believe Enderson loves Michael. He may not understand "being gay" - but he accepts it for his son. But honestly, if the man is an enigma - that's a good thing...
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Enderson stood, a tight grip on his elbow crutches, while Carlson finished brushing off his suit coat and ensuring Mr. Tate was 'fully presentable'. When the butler stepped back, Enderson sat and handed the crutches to his butler. "Thank you, Carlson. I would be lost without your support." "Very good, Mr. Tate. Will there be anything else?" "No, I'm good. You should return downstairs at any rate; I imagine the boys will be here soon, followed shortly by their fawning entourage."
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I am so glad you've enjoyed this. Thank you for hanging with me! I've toyed with a "Nikolos" side of the story - not sure yet if I want to go there at least yet - I have another in process work that comes first (i think - i have this awful habit of working on more than one story at a time...)
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Stefano stood on the wet sand, wearing just his trousers. The waves lapped at his bare feet, threatening to bury them as each rush of water stirred the ground beneath him allowing him to slowly sink into the sand. He could feel the pain of Gerik’s extinguishing as clear as the dawn when it happened. Sorrow over the youth’s death had turned to anger as Stefano believed Gerik had purposely been caught by the sun. Anger consumes me, and I care not. He allowed himself to greet the sun. My chylde
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Roses Are Blue Violets Are Red
MericCotton commented on Black Paper's story chapter in Roses Are Blue Violets Are Red
Very nice beginning - you can feel the clumsiness and unease. I look forward to the next installment! -
Chapter 1 - the beginning of fear
MericCotton commented on albertnothlit's story chapter in Chapter 1 - the beginning of fear
Flashbacks and nightterrors - two of natures finest destructors. I found writing was very helpful - multiple journals now. I hope you find the same healing. It's never been "fast enough" - but looking back, I guess it has helped. Thank you for trusting enough to share. -
Thank you.
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Thanks for the comment!! This story has become a strange one to write.
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It was past midnight the following night before Gerik finally returned downstairs, dressed in riding attire. His face was haggard and drawn, his need for sustenance hung around him like a woolen cloak. As he looked around the room, he found Stefano and Viktor both standing at the bar, going over what he assumed was Keep business. He closed his eyes to calm himself, then slowly started across the room. Stefano had seen Gerik descend the stairs but purposely kept his attention on Viktor’s
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Most welcome.
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Someone who LIKES Enderson ... hmmmmmmmmmmm
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Thank you.
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Maybe there was a reason Byron was ok with the extra mulah ... we DO know Enderson had a reason to spend it
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Thanks. Every once in a while I get brave - normally poetry stays locked up tight. This one was clammering to get out - I blame my therapist, actually.
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It was a little bit past seven when I walked into his room. The lights were off, the drapes were pulled, It looked more like a tomb than the "home" of my beloved. But here is where he waited. What I could not understand is why he should be here And not at home at rest with me Where I could hold him near. But this is where he waited. Oh, they knew him at the hospice, At least, they knew his name. But I was his "compadrè", their love was not the same. Yet here is where he waited.
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poetry from the dark depths of my soul ... or somewhere
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"slimy" ... I'd say that's fair. as for his relationship with his son-in-law, that could be two-way. Dunno how much Byron has wanted it to be less formal. (at least we don't know yet?) thank you for the comments!!
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Ah - I'm SURE you'll just fall in love with him soon .... heh Good to hear!
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Michael stared aghast at his father. "You what?" "I think you heard me. A young lady carries my child." "I thought that was impossible. Are you certain?" "If you mean have I had the proper blood tests, that should go without saying. The child is most assuredly mine." "How did this happen?" Enderson arched a brow and laughed. "We had that discussion when you were seven, I believe." Byron giggled, drawing a slightly distraught glance from Michael. The younger Tate
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Could I let myself be stupid? For him I would be stupid; if he was my lover-man oh yeah - I understand that nicely done
