Weekly Free Write Scene

He stood in front of the mirror trying to lift his head, failing. He’d not seen his reflection in over forty years and never would again so why look somewhere that should hold it? His partner had been gracious when he came home with twin pin prick in the crook of his neck and blood trailing from his lips down to his chin. Tears had stained his cheeks from hours of horrified crying while hiding curled up in the backseat of his car waiting for the monster who grabbed him as he exited the office building to return.

He could hear the guy’s deep, curt voice as he said, “You stole what belonged to me. You will give it back in forty years.”

The meaning behind the threat wasn’t clear and haunted him each morning he woke up, that one more than any other. It’d been forty years since searing pain shot across his shoulder as his blood left his body and he became a useless form in the stranger’s arms, leaving him thirsty like he’d never been since his Mom birth him. Too bad it wasn’t for water. The stranger supplied what he longed for and would have killed for, even was kind enough to give him a number of whom to contact so he could get his own supply of . . . 

Blood. It’s what he’d been reduced to function off of daily. Who knew the rich, red elixir that ran through his veins when he was alive would be what kept him alive once he ceased to function as a typical human? And turned out that’s what had happened to him, but he’d not discovered that from the one who turned him. Nope. The contact for the blood was the only piece of information the bastard provided about his new life. He abandoned him to learn all about what he’d been turned into by himself. The one thankful thing about the night was, that he’d not been left to go home in a raving hungry state.

“Quit worrying, so much. It will be any other day, honey.” Saint’s warmth zeroed in around his back. “I have told you we would face whatever came today together.”

He didn’t want them to. He didn’t want Saint to be around him when the stranger reappeared. The guy didn’t need to get the idea in his head to strike out at him through his lover. It would rip him apart if the stranger harmed Saint. It’s why he’d broken his one promise to Saint and lied to him.

He’d swore to Saint they’d spend the entire day together while they waited for anything to arise, but he had plans of his own.

He tugged the tail of his shirt down, hoping he got any wrinkles out of it then gave Saint a kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to run out and get us some breakfast and coffee from Alvin’s.” Knew he’d be unable to resist Alvin’s they fixed his favorite Ice Chai Pumpkin Spice Latte.

“You are still after my heart after all these years.” He shot me his mega-watt smile, kissing me deeply before handing me the keys to his Jeep. “Take Betsy. It’ll be faster. I’ll call the order in.”

“Not necessary. I’ll ride the bike. Want the exercise.”

“Yeah right. You think you can sneak away from me. Won’t be happening, honey.” A hard slap against his shoulder reminded him of how long the two of them had lived together. “Remember, we were best friends way before we were partners, honey. I know how your mind works.” He wrapped his arms around him. “And I won’t give you up. For any reason. What happens to you, happens to me. We are in this for life. It’s what we promised each other and it’s what I will hold you to. Now, let’s go get me my coffee. You got me wanting it. We go together though.”

Weekly Free Written Scene

 

Free Write Scene

Jamie started at the cotton strewed spewing from the chairs and sofas, falling onto the glass-covered floors. Every picture in his house had been thrown from their shelves and yanked from the walls with vengefulness. The entire place held a perfume of sourness so thick it stole his breath worse than seeing five years' worth of his life lying in ruins.

“All I smell is their vengefulness.” Michael came up beside him. “Do you catch any hint of anyone?”

He didn’t need to to know who had done it. Only one man held so much disdain for him and he had no reason to do so. He was the one who destroyed their lives. Not him. He was the one that dipped his . . .

“No.”

“Any idea who would hate you this much?”

“You have to ask?” Jamie picked up a stack of stuffing, letting it fall between his fingers.

“You mean . . . Why would he?”

“He’s a bastard from Hell who can hide his scent from our kind.”

“How can he . . . Oh, right. Warlock. Forgot that.”

Warlocks and Witches were able to cast a Cloaking Spell to block their presence from all, right down to their odor. The only way anyone, Werewolf, Vampire, or other Supernatural would be able to pick them up was if they cast a spell while under the cloak. Darrel Jefferson the Fourth held to much sense to give himself away. He would be on his tenth strike with the SPD if he got caught and they knew his scent all too well. Not to mention his father threatened to disown and disinherit him if he brought more dishonorable light to their name.

“You want to call the SPD?” 

“Won’t do any good.”

He’d have to go about this in a more direct manner. A Werewolf to Warlock manner. Seemed like it’d be the only way Darrel would get the message. He’d have to be discrete about it, or he’d get himself in trouble.

Free Write Scene

 

Punch after punch a guy threw, sending vampires every which way as his knives sliced through the air with each kick he delivered, creating falling dust. He jumped and leapt out of the way, spinning this way and that way, dodging hits with such grace he looked like a preprogrammed robot. Otto never saw anything like it, nor had he ever been in a building that rained thick, hot blood before, which had him curling up like some coward in the corner of the large run-down dance room of an abandoned hotel room at some rave his ex-lover told him about.

What had he been thinking going somewhere Elias told him about? The man was so irresistible. Trouble with a capital T and could do nothing right. Why had he broken his six-month streak of remaining inside and away from people on the weekends?

Oh, right. He wanted companionship. He thought he might find someone. He’d found right the opposite. A world like nothing else.

“Sir, sir, are you okay?” A squeaky voice asked.

Otto looked up into the most dazzling pair of round, hazel eyes and lips that were beyond kissable. He bet they were soft and tender. He knew they had to be perfect to nipple on.

“Uh, thanks for the compliment. Can I take that as you are well enough to stand?”

“Oh shit! Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes, but I sort of like hearing my atractableness.” The mystery guy held his hand out. “Let me help you up. “What are you doing in a place like this?”

Free Write Scene

The water shimmered above him as he held his breath, counting to himself as fire consumed his chest. The people above him were taking too long. He was only able to hold his breath for twenty minutes whereas full-blooded Seamen held no restrictions. If only his father kept his dick in his pants when he was fifteen hundred years young.

“He has to be around here somewhere.” Ronnie, the one Java knew to be the ringleader of the Seamen Seek and Finders Group, said. “Did he get into that water?”

“Ronnie man, it’s not deep enough. It only goes up to my ankles.”

Good the guy didn’t know about the sinkhole in the middle of the washed-out area. What a break for him. Java didn’t get many of those, he’d take them when they came his way.

“There is nowhere else for him to be hiding around here.” Another person said.

How many had Ronnie brought with him? That was two different speakers, and Ronnie was known for traveling with at least five at all times, but did all of them follow him when he came after him? How did they even locate him? He’d stayed under the radar for the last sixty years and one hundred before then. He was talented at avoiding the Seaman Seek and Finders Group. A talent his father taught him. About the only thing he could thank the man for, besides giving him life. Then again, he wasn’t so sure he could go that far. His life sucked, majorly most of the time.

“Fine.” Ronnie’s wavering image faded out of sight from above him as the man stepped away from the semi-muddy puddle of water Java hid in. “Let’s go. We’ve lost him again. I swear to the Heavens Above, I will catch that piece of Seamen Fish Ass one day.”

Java would make sure his ass was dead and useless to him if he ever did. He wanted nothing to do with the cruelty the Seaman Seek and Finders delivered upon their captives. The rare few who survived their torture and found release were left a comatose shell of themselves. Those who escaped, which were even rarer, swore living a million and one days in the pits of Hell would be better than spending five seconds inside their walls. Java wanted nothing to do with what the Seaman Seek and Finders believed they were doing for society as a whole by capturing and studying the unusual species that walked out of the edge of the Florida coast two decades ago.

Bubbles began to flow from the corners of his lips, forcing Java to surface. It’d been quiet for several seconds. Java prayed Ronnie and his men were gone. As he surfaced, he felt the spear slam through his upper arm. His right hand flew up to the pole, yanking it free as he leapt from the water, floating over a short, choppy black-haired guy. He landed on the other side of him with his own knife pulled and held steady in front of him. A quick scan proved Ronnie only left one guy behind.

Free Write Scene

Happy Labor Day,

Hope all have had a great Summer and enjoy the last day of it. And for any of those college football fans, hope you've enjoyed the return of it. Now, it's time to take a small break and enjoy escaping into a short scene of creativity. 

Hope you enjoy and are able to let your imagination soar.

Julia

He couldn’t believe he just shifted into a wolf. How had it been possible? How long had it been possible? Why had no one told him he’d be able to do so?

“All stupid questions, Sal.” He said to himself as he hung his head, staring at the shredded pile of clothing laying at his feet. 

Simple answer to all the last one was he’d been dropped off at the rectory’s back door when he was two days old. As to the other two, he was sure no one around him thought such was possible. He sure hadn’t. Why would have his foster mother? Heck fire, she didn’t even have to let him remain with her after he turned eighteen and entered college last year. There is no way she’d do so if she knew he could shift into a wild animal. What was he going to do? How did he keep this a secret? Did he even have control over when he shifted? Lord haver mercy, there were so many questions forming and he had no one to answer them.

His hand flew to his chest. He leaned over, holding his stomach, taking in deep, short shallow breaths until he was dizzy and thought he’d pass out. The room began to fade into blackness when he felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Sal, I’m sorry I wasn’t here when it happened.”

“Rachael?”

“Yeah, sweetie. I’d planned to speak to you before it happened, but I didn’t think you’d have your First Shift for another month or so.”

“You knew.”