Tag Archives: my own works

Honey Clover

A dream of any good anthropologist. To play a village fool in era they are researching. This was what Noah came to do here and the only reason why he kept his sister’s whereabouts secret. It took him close to a year to convince others he wasn’t putting them in danger, that he’d only play his part and then leave, allowing them to use the excuses fit to their purpose to seal his disappearing.

That until his heart watched the child grow and place unseen chains around him. Blind little Ivy Walker had been mere toddler when they arrived, a simple child and thus knew nothing of his real age – none of the younger ones did. Twenty four candles instead of thirty six – who wouldn’t want to become a decade younger?

He made the mistake once, allowing her smoothing words caress his taunting mood and that was it. From that day forward he was dog to her, followed her around and kept keen watch over every move she made, only to pull back his own scary acting should she even whisper the word “Enough!”.

That seemed sufficient for a while, but then she bloomed like honey clover and seemed just as fragile in her ways, yet there was nothing timid about her. Blindness had given her strength and wisdom, prudence that would never allow her to choose jester over a knight.

Thinking so he knew his banter days were close to an end. He was old enough to know why his heart ached when he longed to be with her. She had always considered him a good friend and as the custom went – no fool had ever recovered from their illness before and he planned to be no exception.

The door flew open and he almost fell off his chair. He used the quiet room to hide and be himself, but now Ivy was standing on the door, eyes fixed on the distance.

“You are free to leave now, Noah Percy!”

He held his breath for a moment, but rose quickly. He thought of acting up and replying with his usual show, but instead fell quiet.

“Something matter?”

He shook his head, forgetting she couldn’t see.

“Then what is it?”

He took two steps to her and said without thinking: “Jam on your lip.”

Her eyes flew up and she frowned, trying to see through his mischief.

He knew he’d gone too far. It was too late to play it around, it had sounded just as normal as any other man on the village. He thought of capturing her and closing the door, demand she’d listen and force her silent, but he didn’t move a muscle.

“Noah?” Her breathing changed, echoing his low flow of air coming from his dry lips. “You sound so odd!”

He’d probably never have the chance, he decided then and sized for her middle before brushing his mouth gently over her cheek. She froze between his hands, but he knew better than to let her go and fall on her ragged feet. The woman had no proper experience with anyone yet and he knew already then he wasn’t taking advantage of it. He only wanted to seal a pack for silence, steal her first kiss, which he never wanted to give to her first and real suitor.

He felt her warming up, heat rousing aromas of lily soap she used to wash her neck every evening.

“What is this?” she demanded to know, “What are you playing?”

Oh, he had no plans for games tonight, he grinned, and instead of an answer he pushed another kiss against her skin, closer to the mouth. She didn’t insist him to stop, so he placed next one on her nose, before drifting down and biting down her flesh. She gasped, opening her mouth enough for him to make his move and he took every advantage of it.

Ivy’s hands sought place to rest. At first they tried to come between them, force him away, but that ceased the moment his lips took over hers. Now they stopped on his arms, grasping tightly around his slender muscles, but couldn’t find rest there and slid between his chest and arms on his back.

The chill that followed wasn’t unknown to his mind, but he couldn’t stop and went with it.

He gently pulled her to step away from the door and nudged the door close. It did with silent fizz and gave him enough time to push her against the wall.

She reached her hands out and searched out for his face. He immediately stopped.

“You shine like sun in my eyes. Why?”

He didn’t think the question was meant for him.

“Who are you?”

“Noah Percy.” He said quietly, not trying to play his part. She’d give him a slap should he even try.

“That’s what you say, but you’re not the Noah I know!”


“Who are you?”

 “I am Noah, I just…” He wet his lips. He’d feared the question in the past. How would he explain this without risking their cover?

“Play a fool?” she helped with the words. “For how long?”

“Few years.” It wasn’t really a lie.

“Why haven’t you said anything?” she insisted, “You could be treated differently!”

“I didn’t want to.” He confessed, doubting his own words. He wanted so much to be like others, so she’d choose the knight he believed himself to be over the jester he was playing.

“Noah Percy, you’re keeping secrets from me!” she started with her usual teasing tone, but the sweetness was nearly gone.

“I keep many secrets,” he replied quietly and looked down on his twitching hand. It tend to go over the edge whenever he felt nervous and right now he had every right to feel the stretch on his personal pet project.

“And what is your purpose on this one?”

He couldn’t decide if his mind was simply blank or he couldn’t decide between all the reasons he’d made up for such occasion. Instead he lowered his face to her level and nearly kissed her again, but he stopped only an inch away. He had to thrust his hand past her against the wall to stop himself and pushed away.

She frowned, like sensing his movement, but being agitated that he hadn’t finished. She thrust forward and forced him away from her path. She went straight for the door and nearly hitting it.

She came to a halt and turned, slowly reaching for the knob.

“Then I think you’ll need another hour here, Noah Percy, figure out what is your purpose deceiving me!” she said seriously and disappeared between the narrow doorway.

He sat down against the same wall where Ivy had just been, feeling the knots in his stomach tangle up. She hadn’t locked the door, but he had no intentions to leave. He had to think.

An hour later he left. It was late afternoon and he first headed home and put his jacket on. Then he went to search for her. She couldn’t be far; she never went for long walks or distant searches. Small hill was the most probable place and that’s where he took his first trip.

She was there, snapping pieces from a straw, deep in her thoughts.

He sneaked closer like he loved to do and sat next to her, being back to his crazy self.

He placed his head on her shoulder and whispered sheepishly the three little words and placed unnoticeably to anyone who’d walked pass, a kiss on her ear.

Her eyes didn’t move, but she smiled, just like before and he smiled too, shyly closing his.

He felt tired. Yes, one day someone else would claim her, but that didn’t stop his affection or their friendship.


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Browning, not Browner!

I was eight, when my father walked out on us. I can only remember the shape of his face and unshaved beard that touched my face when he kissed me in the middle of the night. Mom can’t remember even that. He never said good bye to her.

My friends know it and they pitied me. Their parents wanted them to be considerate, so they never asked, why my father wasn’t around, but I knew from their dirt grey eyes that they knew. That was the life in our town – no one was left untouched by the ratchets of gossip, even children, who got all they needed to know from their parents. But I was lucky and pretty, made friends easily and they stayed, because we had big TV and free cable television.

On that fateful September night we had just branched out in our fully lit living room and dug out our study books, when Maybre turned the TV on. She searched through the channel with her usual rushed movements until she stopped on the news.

I never watched the news. They were horrible mix of death and despair and as I child I only wanted happy memories. It wasn’t because I was touched by the horror, but I simply chose not to take part of it. I had my broken heart. I didn’t need to add to the burden that would rip the wound farther.

She turned the volume on and one by one we all looked at the TV.

“I can’t believe someone could do that to a woman!” Hallee whispered from the sofa.

The news anchor was describing a murderer, who used needle work on the victim. I wasn’t listening her, but I remember seeing the bright image in my head of a lady sitting on a chair, head sagged on the back. Her legs were tied together and pulled together like piece of meat ready to be pushed into the oven.

I shrugged the image off.

“How many victims does he already have?” Maybre asked no one particularly, but she did look straight at me.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “I haven’t watched this.”

“You should!”

I was speechless. Why?

“Until they get that bastard you and us – we’re all in danger!”

“Don’t be silly, May! The killings take place in Tolsveren!”

“This one didn’t!”

We weren’t convinced. She did like drama and add to her truths. Hallee rolled her bright smart eyes and turned back to her homework as did I.

Maybre looked so distraught I couldn’t help but ask: “Then where, May?”

“In Montfort!”

“That’s still far enough,” responded Hallee and we left her sulking, delving in our books.

“Just imagine he could be someone from our city!”

“May! Montfort is hundreds of miles away!”

“Still, imagine if he was my father or your father or…” She pointed to Hallee and then turned her finger at me, frozen on spot. “Or your father!”

I probably grew gray hair right there. They did look dull after that fall.

It was outrageous, but all I could do at that point was to stare at her. I couldn’t even manage a smile.

“Uu!” she wheeled suddenly and shook herself so hard all her brown hair flew around, reminding me of jelly fish in deep-sea. “I wouldn’t wanna know you then!”

My heart sank. “What?”

“You don’t know who your father is – you might be daughter of that serial killer!”

Hallee shouted her name, deafening me for a moment.

“Oh come on, Hal! The murders started after her father left and she did receive a birthday card from Tolsveren only weeks before the first victim was found!”

“I should be afraid how much you know about that killer!” Hallee murmured, amazed by her facts.

When on Earth did she already connect me with that monster?

“They did say that he loves to use hunting rifle!”

“And this relates with me, how?”

“Because your daddy was in Hunters Society with my dad and he told me he took it with him!”

“And you can give the mold num…” Hallee mused.

“Probably semiautomatic Browner!”

“I’ll be damned…” I started, but Hallee burst laughing.

“It’s Browning!” she corrected Maybre


“Browner does not exist, darling!”

“Yes it does!”

“In your dreams! Your dad may be master hunter, but he is obviously lousy on gun models!”


With this they continued on different route and I was forgotten with my probable ancestry. But I sat on, frozen on my chair and staring at the screen behind Maybre. The newswoman had already moved on to some petty political argument, but I couldn’t get May’s logic out of my head. As long fetched as it sounded – what if she was right?

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Life does its corrections.

I say – life intervenes like bad parent. The thing is I have only a month to finish my book and send it out. Thank heavens I don’t have actual datum fixed by any publishers, but I feel bad about it nevertheless. It’s just two little factors, three even if to count my phone, which also acted as my e-reader.

One – I still haven’t got my computer back. I miss it tremendously. Though I can use brother’s pc and work computer, it is still far less than what I accomplished if I had my own personal computer with 24/7 access. Brother said he wouldn’t mind, but as we pretty much have breaks from work at the same time, I am the one feeling poor for occupying it all the time. There is another pc at home, but that’s strictly for business. Also, it’s looking grim on finances, so it will take few more months before I get it fixed.

Two – school. Surprise! Actually, it’s to do with the fact that my teacher approved my writing plan for bachelor thesis and wants to meet up in the beginning of May for updates on research. I chose the subject well – there’s massive amount of information to work through and even more massive work to write down. Also, school has been so far on the back of my lists and it’s starting to show. I need to put anything else I’m doing away and work on that for now. Bad side of it is that every time I say that I end up scribbling down more ideas than in months.

Three – my phone finished working. Again. Third time already and it’s getting irritated. Last time I had it somewhat 4-5 days and right before it froze and shut down yesterday, I downloaded the last app that would turn the phone from being just a phone into useful tool for me. Managed to load the books up, too… The phone is right now the only place I have time to read fiction from while I travel. It was ideal. And now it must go back in repairs and they’ll try to do something with it again. Good luck, because my patience is wearing thin – I just paid my last payment for it and that little fact is even more irritating in the light of probability of loosing it. So right now I’m putting my writing on the shelf and try to get back on line with my schoolwork, financial state and time planning. I have about ¾ written, so it shouldn’t be big problem to get back on saddle when ever I manage to get a moment.


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Sleeves part 1

Agath didn’t know he had sleeve tattoos. Both arms. Now that she knew, it was hard to concentrate on the meeting – her mind was invaded by images of his patterned flesh under the clean cotton shirt. The smooth skin caressed by the rough fabric sent goose bumps all over her body and she nearly broke the pencil.

He had run past her yesterday, after the woman who so carelessly had pulled her documents on the floor. The blond woman hadn’t stopped, ran straight to the waiting taxi and drove away. Leon had run right after her, but missed her. The rain soaked his shirt and vest, gluing the fabric on his skin and revealing the hidden secret under his white cotton armor. The always-perfect boss had both his arms covered with tattoos! She knew better than to hide behind the bush, getting herself all wet – but she had no wish to betray herself with the umbrella. He had a bad temper and even worse when caught off guard. But fortunately, he had passed without a glance to her direction. She promised herself never again to leave late, especially when it was heavily raining – that proved especially harmful.

At least her brain had worked then, not like now, when she couldn’t even keep her pencil on place. She tried concentrating on her notes.

He hadn’t seen her two nights ago, but she betrayed herself with her changed attitude and lack of concentration, and it puzzled him. He made a note to himself to have a chat with her after the meeting, better yet, ask her what he was talking about in the meeting. This ought to bring her back to her senses. The room was the only one in use on this floor right now and others would be long gone before she finished with her bag and that he knew gave him the opportunity he needed.

Leon dismissed them and stood aside to let others leave. She was busy with the zip on her black huge handbag which wasn’t co-operating and it gave him time.

Not once did she look up. Usually she did, shyly searching around with her clever foxy eyes,  never be the last, but this time she avoided any uncanny glances and it interested him, why? She wasn’t herself today. Fallen in love? Agath? Woman, who fell asleep after her third cup of wine? She was gorgeously shaped, but with her tolerance of booze she was hardly conversational. Nobody would get her to have decent conversation after driving her home. Not from the bar then.

Leon knew she didn’t tolerate even glasses of wine because of what happened last Christmas. It took him quite an effort to get her back to her place, but her trusty ways made the task easy. He felt the anger over her mousey ways even now, realizing how easily it could have been someone who would take advantage of such a situation. Then why hadn’t he?

He felt irritated, and it made him less humane. The idea of someone playing with her for easy swing made his mind block everything related with business. He regretted letting her go on that Christmas, going home instead and spending it alone. No one should be alone on Holidays, neither sleeping through them duo three classes of red.

When she finally got her things together, pen and paper off the table and she started to leave, he just acted without thinking. He closed the door in front of her and placed the files he was holding back on the meeting table.

She looked up fast, unable to hide what she was thinking. He didn’t budge, noticing how from one second her eyes held his, they moved on right away, but not far enough to show humility. They stopped. On his right shoulder. Light came back in his jealous mind and he felt he still had some hope, but her look puzzled him.

“Considering your absent-mindedness on the meeting today,” he started with a frown. “I thought it would be best if you explained to me the main concept of the new perspective.”

He thought better to sit while she watched her groan like a child before a teacher. She had no idea, he knew it in advance, but she had to learn this lesson. No mindless showing ups again. Even if she had problems somewhere else in her life, she had to stay professional at all costs.

“I don’t have the concept.” She said quietly, but raised her eyes then to meet his. “You finished the meeting before getting to it.”

He frowned. “I got there. Two minutes ago and then I asked you all to think about it and said we’ll get back together in the end of the week. Remember?”

Her shyness was reviving again and his frown deepened. “You paid no attention today – what’s the matter with you? You know we are thinking on redundancies, if you show this side of yourself, we have no other way but to let you go.”

Her stomach must have acted up on such news, because she pulled it in visibly,  and her hand struck up to cover it.

“So better come clean. What’s bothering you?” He offered. He’d known her over four years now and though they never came down to chatting like friends, he knew he could consider her one.

There was this look again, again over his hands and it dawned. Somehow she knew about his tattoos.

He pushed himself up, way taller than her and watched as his movement brought light back in his otherwise gloomy stature. Her eyes were on the same level as his shoulders and they never moved from them, like she was helplessly trying to see them through the sleeves.

He never exposed his tattoos to anyone at work. It would have brought misunderstandings and he knew better than just let a rumor out when he could avoid it. Especially as they could have easily brought back the past he was desperate to leave where it belonged – in the closets of history.

Her breathing changed. Gently but unmistakably deeper than he thought necessary, but it occurred to him almost at the same time that his wasn’t getting much shallower either.

She was so close. He smelled her sweetness mixed with the sweet violets. Unusual for someone in economy, but suited with her violet jacket, under which her blooming breasts were hidden behind delicate pink fabric so gentle it would’ve easily torn had he just stretched his hand and touched it.

That notion brought him back to the situation in hand and he deliberately changed his breathing before the chemistry did its work.

“How do you know about my tattoos?” he demanded and saw her look change. She didn’t say anything, rightfully aware it would bring trouble. “How, Agath?”

“Your shirt got drained.” She said after humiliating silence.


“Yesterday. You know, if you want to keep it from everyone as you seem so inclined, I’d suggest wearing silicon clothing.” She pushed back, trying to turn the tables around, but it only angered him more.

He sat back down, wrapping his hands on his chest, creating surprisingly effective distraction to her. It would have been amusing hadn’t it been vital for him not to get the word around and he hoped to avoid it.

“Spying on me, missy?”

She frowned, oddly lost. “Hardly. I forgot my house keys to the office. Had to come back.”

“I didn’t see you yesterday.” He recalled, but the blush on her face already gave him the answer. She hid. Somewhere. He saw no point continuing this. It had been mere accident and his own wrong doing. “I don’t want this to go around, you hear?”

“I wasn’t planning a public announcement.” Her voice trembled with insult and she adjusted her handbag, hoping to buy some time. “Why are you so concerned if someone saw them anyway?” she asked suddenly. Shooting look right at him again with her typical peering eyes.

“I had them done when I was young and stupid.” He said, trying to avoid her question. He stood up and let his hands fall aside, glancing at her just in time to notice that longing look towards his arms again. “You must stop it,” he added quietly and picked up his papers.

“Stop what?”

“Your staring. If they notice, they will start rumors and that’s one thing you don’t want.”

“I just wished to see them.” She said.

He never thought those words could rise a storm inside him, but they did. His words were buried under the emotion that rushed through his body and he knew it pushed his button.

Suddenly she gasped, realized she’d said it loud and apologized.

“Perhaps some other time,” he said suddenly, unaware himself he’d let those words out, but he felt the need to say something before the moment passed. 

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