This thread continues to amaze me.

Erica, Borneo, and Traci, I loved each of your recent contributions. You all rock. :snap:

I said two weeks from the OP, which makes it the 24th. Not hard and fast, of course.

I don't need to be the only idea person. When the topic runs out of steam you can post your idea, no problem. :)

Good - I have some time then...

I have enjoyed all of your contributions immensely. This is a most talented aggregate of writers, and a most excellent thread.

I think the Boss needs to post something!

And where the hell is Capt Jack?

an explosion of flame erupts in a relentless night
a thousand sparks fly away on the night breeze
like a fleet of ships setting sail for parts unknown
dancing about the night sky until their energies wane
leaving a spent and decaying remnant
of what once burned so bright and hot
as to deny the touch of mortal man

sent speeding to their yet unrevealed destiny
carried aloft by an uncaring and unknowing draft
their source left behind as a brightly burning memory
still lighting their way
not showing the fate that awaits

dark and cold now floating alone
all energy spent
no light beckons
no warmth comforts
no phoenix shall arise from these ashes

Megan snuggled into her pillow a bit deeper, one arm supporting the pillow, the other curled up under her chin. She briefly opened her eyes; saw the moonlight playing shadows about the room, while the cool night breeze embraced her bare leg.

“Why am I awake? What happened to the covers, and what time is it anyway?” Knowing better than to move more than a muscle she turned her eyes to the clock. 3:18 am. “Why am I awake?” she wondered again.

Megan listened to the sounds of the house; no cat was purring, no sounds of children, no wildlife sounds from the outside. Odd. She was never an early riser; something must have awakened her. Maybe it was an earthquake. She stretched her legs out gently, coming back into the fetal position she tended to favor at night. That’s when she felt it. That’s the reason she was awake.

He had woken her up. Rhythmically his hand went from her hip to her breast, and back, over and over again. Dammit. That stretch had cost her, he thought she was awake. “Now what?” A common enough question, one she in fact asked herself quite often. She’d tried to lie as still as she could, maybe in fact lull herself back to sleep. Just maybe, he’d think she stretched in her sleep.

She already knew how many knots were in the wood of the closet door, how many hangars were on her side of the closet, as well as how many of those hangars were plastic. There were thirty-two pleats in the lamp at her bedside, and if you looked at it just right, the teddy bear she’d had since college looked as if he were carrying a torch of flames.

She closed her eyes, slowed her breathing and prayed for sleep. “This cant be all there is. There has to be a day that isn’t met with silence and day dreams of other times and places they may never come.” Megan tried to convince herself that all she had to do was get herself back to sleep, to be anywhere but where she was.

It wasn’t going to work, not tonight. She felt him push up against her, grab onto her hip, and make sure she wasn’t going to move as he pressed into her back. “3:20 am, what a time to start the day”, was about all she could think.
He hadn’t spoken a word, nor would he in all likelihood, that just wasn’t his style. He’d never know if she was awake, but he’d assume she was, and that’s all that would matter.

“There’s an open coke on my desk at work. I could really stand to clean out that basket in the closet. I wonder what’s in it. There’s that box of fabric downstairs that I haven’t touched in five years, maybe I should donate it.” Her mind kept working through the problems of the day, of the week, and a great many things that weren’t problems at all. Anything to keep her mind somewhere else entirely.

As continued to press rhythmically against her back, Megan continued to drift further and further away. It was 3:30 now, at least the numbers on the clock were moving, even if time it self were standing still. It was only a matter of time and he’d have done what he needed to, then roll away and fall asleep.
What would it be like she wondered, to hear someone’s voice in your ear at those moments? What is it like to really know that smile is for you, and not just for show? What is it like to be who you are, and not hide away in your personal cave inside?

“I want to start over. I want to burn this life, and walk out of the flames unscathed and start again. Can I do that? Or would I show the scars of the fire? How does that bird do it? Isn’t there an oriental bird that rises from ashes? God, why can’t I remember that?”

Megan’s memory searched and searched for that answer, looking in places in her mind she hadn’t opened in years. Places she wouldn’t look again. She was turned over onto her back, one of his forearms crossed her windpipe and pressed down, the other arm held her hands above her head. By her calculation that meant two more minutes. She started counting…1…2….3….4…5…6…………………………………221…222……
He stopped. Placed his head on her stomach, rolled over and in moments, started to snore.

3:45. “Phoenix” she said aloud. The first word uttered in twenty seven minutes. “It’s a god damn Phoenix.”

Two more excellent posts.

A few more pages like this and we might as well publish it. :)

Great writing, Bornieo, Captain Jack and Ponine! :cheers::snap::cheers::snap:

The Crow's Tale - Part One
 

It wasn’t a week past Rey’s birthday when she told him she was in love with someone else. Of course it didn’t surprise him, things had been strange for awhile and now it all made sense, the longer hours at the office, the delays and excuses about picking up groceries on the way home. She probably strained to find the right moment to make this confession, and now with his birthday over, the last occasion had passed and she was left with no more excuses.
“It’s not that I don’t love you anymore it’s just that…”
“…you’ve fallen in love with someone else”
“Well, yes – I have. It’s not like I wanted it to happen. It just did.”
“But what about us?”
“Hun, I don’t know – but it can’t stay the same.”
“Well, you don’t have to act on it, you say you still love me, we can get counseling or something?”
“It’s too late for that.”
“Too Late? How can it be too late, you just told me – besides, what about Jacks wife?”
“He left her last week – Honestly we never wanted to hurt either of you – but, I have to look after myself now – and you need to do the same.”
“Were you suffering so much with me? You seemed pretty happy up until now”
“I was, but I was missing something – something I didn’t even realize wasn’t there until I met Jack. He makes me feel alive. Do you really want me here with you out of duty? I can’t do that to you.”

She left that night. Rey was surprised he never noticed that most of her clothes had already been packed and taken away, not that he ever spent much time in her closets. Later he bought himself a large bottle of bourbon and proceeded to finish it off. He was not ready to cry, or rage, rather he sat out in a patio puffing on a cigar left over from somebody’s bachelor party. He hated smoking, but took long deep puffs on this stale cigar, rinsing his mouth with more whiskey as he just asked himself why.

Weeks past, with days and nights spent in identical despair. The trash he took out was mostly empty liquor bottles and fast food wrappers. A month later after another late night of lonely drinking. He had a dream.

Rey dreamt he was being attacked by crows in some sort of cross between Alfred Hitchcock’s the Birds and Prometheus. Each crow would peck off a little bite of his flesh, an act more annoying than painful. He fought them off at first, and then just resigned himself to his eventual devouring.

It was then one of the crows stopped and sat next to him, cocked its head and looked him in the eye. The crow spoke, “You know, it doesn’t have to be this way.”
“What do you care, you and your friends will soon have me picked to the bone.”
“Me and my friends? – May I remind you that this is your dream.”
“Well then stop already – You’ve made your point.

Suddenly the other crows stopped their pecking and took flight vanishing into the peripheral fog of the dream.

“Who the heck are you anyway?”
The Crow let out a sigh that bristled his feathers for an instant
“You know, you only took a couple psychology classes in college and that puts us both at a disadvantage. So let me put it to you this way, in a sense I’m you – or rather your crow-like nature that perpetually picks away at your flesh leaving you a well-cleaned skeleton”
“Does this mean I’m schizophrenic?”
“Look, let me try again – your wife isn’t the only one who’s grown bored with you, you bore me too – that is to say, you bore yourself – and honestly, we the inhabitants of your subconscious are kind of tired wallowing around in your self pity – But heck, this is your life, your dream, so if you want to be chased by a murder of crows who eat out your liver every night, well that’s fine too. But admit it you’re done here aren’t you?”