Showing posts with label flash fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flash fiction. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Safe?

Safe words. What's the safest word you know? Trust. That's a lie. Trust like Love is an action. You give trust, you feel trust and like love you hope the other person feels that same way too. 

So I was talking to someone about S&M a few months ago. Not that 50 shades shit. It wasn't that we were planning to or going to. (Or did I miss the point of that one? Kinky?!) It was how and why. Even perhaps where people go to get it. 

Needless to say I suggested the fellow check it out... With someone he felt safe with. You see you can't play a game without a safe word. And you have to trust that person will stop when you say it. Any who I once met a dom and she happily explained that it's not what you do that's the kink... It's what people ask you to do that's kink. And one more thing...

Honey you better remember that safe word because I won't stop until you give it to me. You shouldn't play games with people you don't trust. Tsk Tsk.

Enjoy the story and another photo that simply captures the sentiment.
Kisses, 
m.


Tyler Shields c/o Tyler Shields.com from the DSOG




Safe Word.

What’s the safe word? You better remember it. I’m not writing it down. You won’t get a hint later. And I’m not stopping until you give it to me.

Fools and smart men alike. They all want one thing. To be humiliated. Tied up. Torn down. Ripped to shreds. Spanked like a little baby. Called a worthless maggot. Whipped. Chained. Emasculated. This one’s licking my boots. Leather pants stretched to the point of extreme reveal an ever-growing prominence beneath his belt line. His tongue runs down the 6 inch stiletto heel of my thigh encompassing leather boots. You missed a spot baby! GET DOWN THERE AND FIX THAT! What can I say? I’m a stickler for getting things done the right way. Oooh! He got it. And here’s your reward. Crack the whip against his bare back and watch it arch. Body spasms send release and pleasure while I repeat. You fucker. DID I SAY YOU COULD ENJOY THAT?!

I know what you’re wondering. How did a nice girl get into some nasty business like that? My response, what’s so nasty about it? There’s nothing wrong with a little deviation now and again. You should try it sometime. That is if you never done it. How can you say you don’t like it, if you’ve never even tried? Nice needs a little bit of nasty to keep things straight. Get down on your knees and grovel! Sorry occupational habit. Must scold the unwilling. You know, don’t take it personal. I don’t. Unless you’d like to help me try out my new whip? Or I could work in my new boots on your back? It really does release the tensions.

Honestly I can’t say this was always my bag, as it really wasn’t. Had this boyfriend, Rubber Johnny, uh-huh like the song, and then some. You might say he sort of opened my eyes a bit. The trick was Johnny had some funny business about the bedroom. Mucking things up seem to work him into a bother quite a bit. You’d think we were taken off of the cover of a Tijuana Brass record. Sometimes it was food. Other times it was soaps, paints, bubbles, shoe polish, candle wax, dirt, and of course a few unsanitary unmentionables directly from the bathroom. Appropriate placed paraphernalia in the right places while in just… the right… position, could send that man screaming. And the dirty business was just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Needless to say it didn’t take much encouragement to go along for the ride. Occasionally things did escalate into unknown but I never forgot the safe word. Johnny said it was the most important part of the agreement. Whenever things got too close for comfort that simple little word was all that was needed to calm the situation. Exploration of the world of deviation became an instant fascination.

Into the nightly clubs of digressions I would wander looking for more and more forms of pleasure. On one of my frequent trips of exploration I was presented with the opportunity to cater to a specific clientele. Which later turned into an interesting job prospect. Oh the possibilities life can offer. Laced in leather. Arms tightly chained. Thigh high stiletto boots. Legs bound back. Blood red lipstick. Gagged with a ball. Whip in hand. Body on display. Lashing after lashing. Wondering if this asshole is hard from my outfit or from my abuse. Slightly addictive habit to reach. One must wonder what began from this. How did this man find himself coming to the conclusion that whipping equals happiness? Well you know that few seconds kind of happy that we all need regularly. The minds spins wildly with wonder. Eventually I found myself handling business night to night for a variety of men. Rich, poor, fat, thin, old and young alike. All wanting to be controlled, manipulated, teased, and completely dominated.

Dominated. I never get used to the word. It means something different for everyone. Now that my boots are cleaned I get to spend the rest of the evening wandering in an out of every corner of grown man’s body with a nice long stick that is tipped off by a searing hot cherry. Watching the skin flinch back. Take it you bastard! Pulling at the hair to force back his head with a snap so I can cook the fat of his neck a little. Fry piggy fry! This one squeals like a little pig too. OINK OINK! Dirty piggy needs to get a hot poke. Tears are streaming down his face as I prod his backside with the scorching rod of fire. Red skin covered in welts to the point of a bursting blood release. Mouth holds back the release of sound. CRY! SCREAM! GIVE IN! WEAK ANIMAL! Continues to restrain from the fulfillment. The funny thing is that he loves every minute of it. The torture. The submission. The abuse. Otherwise… he knows how to take back control. Until he’s ready, I can’t do anything but carry on. Do you remember the safe word?






Monday, November 4, 2013

ROCK THIS!

There's nothing quite like hearing a great rock n roll band for the first time and convincing yourself they are the best thing in the world. Then again there's nothing quite like your lying cheating boyfriend in a rock n roll band... because you thought he was the best thing in the world once too. Anyhoo... Here's an oldie but goodie with a photograph that always reminds me that sometimes your favorite things can kill you if you overdo them too much! Character was based off of a musician friend who once wished I wasn't inspired... my thoughts on the matter:  Maybe he shouldn't have mistreated his girlfriend. Even if she wasn't me. Just a thought. 

Enjoy!

Kisses, m. 


Rock n Roll Kills - Tyler Shields (From The Kills Series) 


How to Kill A Rock Star
(6-10-09)
“WHY WON’T YOU DIE?!” I shriek as I raise my head up out of pure frustration and release my grip around his neck. I just wasted the last 15 minutes trying to strangle this bastard with a handful of guitar strings to no such luck. The game is getting old now. I just want this bastard dead. There are tiny pieces of metal embedded in the gaping circular wound wrapped around his neck, which looks a lot more like a rug burn than a strangulation scar. “YOU FUCKER.” I kick the chair over, breaking as it falls and his limp body sprawls out onto the floor, still alive. At least he’s unconscious.

Photobucket

“I never did care for your music anyway,” was the last thing I said to this SOB before he passed out from the drugs I slipped in his whiskey. Out cold before I ever went to work. The look on his face was complete shock as he went down with a bang. If you’ve seen one, then you’ve seen ‘em all, rockers and their poison. Johnny Black was no exception. He took it like a pro too. Johnny Black. Black labeled - Just how he liked his whiskey. Black heart - How he liked to treat his women. Breaking hearts every show, every town. Parading around with his long line of women to establish his rock star legacy. Quite honestly he’s made a fool of me for the very last time. Filth. Trash. Scum. Methodically I look around the room. Guitar strings will do nicely, after I make him suffer a little.

Gently I rub his face as he comes to. “Johnny, honey, you can go ahead and scream if you want, but no one will hear you. That backup band of yours is having a ball out on stage right now.” The noise from the crowd and music seeps through the dressing room walls and fills the quiet spaces. He smiles and raises his head. I run my fingers through his dark tousled hair and pull, turning his eyes toward mine. He knows I’ve tied him up. He can’t struggle. I pull out my knife and smile. Wink at him one last time before I cut off a finger. He takes it. “Hard to play guitar without one of those?” I question. Silence and a smile.

Several fingers later, he’s far less cooperative. “Johnny, I’m gonna cut out your tongue.” I lean in and whisper in his ear. Oh and that’s it. He’s struggling now. His screams release into a sea of din for no one but me to enjoy. Such beautiful music his pain produces. I grab his hair and brace his head. I put my blade to his neck. He stops and gives me his full attention. I slice in and let some blood spill out this artificial wound. Calm. Good. Now the fun begins…
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Awake. Out of options, he lays before me on the floor, gagged and tied down where I control his fate. I bend down and straddle his torso as I stick him with my sharp dagger. It finds a home in his gut, sweetly ever so gently entering without the least resistance. Twisting and tugging my tool upward I make my way up his belly to the base of his rib cage and shove. He releases an agonizing scream of pain that spills out past the crimson gag. Damn! There’s a knock at the door. At this moment this bastard dying is the least of my problems. “Almost more trouble than this is worth,” are my thoughts as I wipe the blood clean from my dagger and slowly rise to attend to this visitor. Probably just another groupie. These girls never quit. “Fucker!” As I kick his struggling body before I walk towards the door. He grunts, but no words can escape. Tear open my blouse and show some skin in case it’s his manager interrupting.

Before I get to the door. “Johnny , you’re on again in five. Get it together,” barks the stage hand as he walks away. This is yet another stop in another seedy roadside bar. Tonight it’s Hot House, Louisiana, which is an insignificant blip so small they’d consider it a mistake and it’s most definitely off the maps. Considering which, nobody would notice if you disappeared out here in the middle of no where. He’s due out onstage at 11 pm. for the second show to close out the night. Step back to the scene of my crime. He watches me as I move closer. Tears roll down his cheek. He’s got five minutes left to live. No more games. This ends now. I pull out my revolver to finish the job.

Band strikes up the same old song as I leave out the back. Exit stage door left. Out into the dark night once again. Back to the heartbreak hotel to mend what’s left of my broken heart.


Monday, July 8, 2013

A little closer...

Sometimes having eyes for someone can be a little tricky! Do you have eyes for anyone? 

Anyway...

Here's a little fun fiction from a few years back! Enjoy if you've never read it! It's definitely one of my darker inventions! And I love the darkness! Kisses, m.




Closer
(1-15-2010)

Closer. Gently I pull his face towards mine. Both hands holding his jaw firmly. Arms tightly locked with intent. Closer. So very innocently I look up into those eyes. Both arms remain at his sides. Trusting. Closer. His breath hits my cheek in deep heavy blows. Closer. Finally my face is resting against his. The tip of my nose meets his cheek. He remains still and solemn allowing my gentle affections to progress. Carefully my lips find their way upwards. Lightly I push tiny little kisses against his skin. Lips flit over and around the eyes. Delicate little flutters. Hot breath escapes the warmth of my open mouth as I continue to address the situation. Never breaking the grip of his jaw I begin nursing my target with the tenderness of a skilled surgeon. Without indicating any warning I gently open to spread my lips further. Mouth continues massaging the socket while my tongue is allowed to caress the lid and tickle the lashes. I begin to add a slight pressure to my mouthful. Drawing back I tenderly engulf the entirety of his eye within my lips. Slowly intensifying as I apply more suction with every stroke of my tongue. Quietly his breath increases with excitement. Tighter I grip onto his jawbone making it harder to break free. The pressure of my mouth growing deeper with every second while I continue to nurture and press into the opening. Drawing back with simple pleasure I persist. Sucking. Lips surround and seal. Tongue softly pushes back the lid until there is no barrier. With no more than a gasp I dislodge the eye. Gateway to the soul nestled in my jaw. Gentle tongue movements finding their way along the cord. His body is fully aware of the situation as every quick breath crashes against my skin. Appearing to be in complete rapture his face never breaks free from my grasp. I continue to provide suction against the cavity. Pulling back with quickness I release myself. Teeth sink in severing the arterial connection with a snap. The excruciating pain brings him down to his knees. Spit. Discard the useless piece of sight with little remorse. Hands frantically grabbing the vacant bloody hole. Taste the blood on my tongue. Listen as he unleashes the most horrifying sounds of anguish. Spit. Watch his body writhe in pain before me. Wipe the blood from my mouth.


Image: Eye/Mouth c/o tylershields.com

Saturday, June 15, 2013

STOP WASTING TIME!

Stop Wasting Time. Tyler Shields c/o www.tylershields.com

Life is both long and short! It's easy and hard. It's opposing factors at every bend. What do you do? Create more. It's human nature to make things worse. But realize you do not have to make anything worse for yourself ever. So why are you making it worse for yourself? You waste your time looking at someone who doesn't look back at you. Why? Don't do it. It's a waste. They don't see your words or hear them. Her response is this: I'm going to keep doing what I want anyway no matter what you say or do. Yet you continue. It's fun to watch for everyone around you. Including the object of your love/torment. Yet she doesn't care as she keeps going. Realize that you can not make anyone do anything you want... Unless they want to already. I don't want to. And I won't do what you want. Accept it and love yourself more! SO with that said...

To my favorite magician... Your trick is wasted on me. Now, Some people don't care. I'm not some people. I care enough to tell you: stop wasting time by doing something that has no result. I adore and respect you as a person. Which is the highest complement I can give anyone because for the most part, I don't like most people. They never earn my respect. So darling, I'm telling you this as a person who cares but can not fall in love with you in any shape or form other than to love you as my brother in humanity: Please stop this behavior and love yourself more. It's really tacky. Kisses. 

For the rest of you... You are free everyday to continue living as you choose. You can elect to do something wasteful or you can do something fabulous with yourself. Just remember you do need to work for what you get in life. It's not always going to be handed to you. Free is fabulous but it doesn't always happen. Entitlement will not help you in the end. 

Here's an old story and soon there will be more stories... AGAIN! I have delightful news to share but I can not just yet. I do miss sharing writing with all of you lovelies. The stories have always been my favorite to produce but there has to be a better way. WHY? Because I enjoy you reading them for free and others feel strongly that I must charge. Who's right? I am. Of course! Don't you know anything yet!

Enjoy!
Kisses, m.


The Last Time
(February 1st, 2010)

The last time. Like the ghost of the mind sent to haunt, I can remember it like it happened yesterday. So very strange, I can’t tell you what she was like, or the books she read, but I can remember the last time I saw her.

In the dark shadow beneath the eave of the Eleventh Street Bridge, wrapped up in a light blue sweater with her brown hair gathered beneath a scarf, she was avoiding the rain. It was raining; a stormy afternoon under black and grey skies dropping a flood of water from the heavens. How do you like that? Somehow it’s always raining in the songs and movies. But this was real life rain. The drenching kind where you can’t seem to keep the clothes from sticking. Dripping through the cracks and falling to the ground in tiny rivers that run downward along the slanted street. There was no where safe from the wetness. My clothes cling in the most uncomfortable way as I move through the blanket of water. After crossing the wet pavement I reach her and she pulls me close for a kiss. A deep kiss, passionate enough to stop time for a single moment. This is goodbye. I have no choice as its death or this. Staying isn’t an option. There are unspeakable crimes in this world and I can’t begin to be sorry for mine as they will tear us apart.

She asks me, “You love me don’t you?” Not waiting for my answer, she pulls out a knife. The kind you’d use to skin flesh from an animal after killing it. The knife caresses my cheek and catches the stubble of my newly grown beard. Tearing into my skin she pushes her interrogation further. “I’ll be your mirror. Take me with you?” Pushing her away, I can’t take her. I understand this demand. She won’t stop trying to save me from this life. Trying to be the mirror that reflects light to my darkness. I can only mirror darkness back into her. My heart can’t bear the thought of destroying something so pure. Small hands continue to struggle for a grip. Succeeding. Holding me tighter in a deep embrace.  Angry sobs fall from her as she’s pressing against me. Pulling at my skin. Tearing at her skin, I make an attempt to break free. Screaming as her body wrenches back and recoils with pain. Retaliating she leaps forward and plunges the knife through the soft skin of my belly. Without regard, I remove the knife and thrust her away from me.

Grappling to reach out to me again, her body slips. Downward she tumbles onto the sharp bloody knife. Almost as quickly I’m down after her. Lifting her back into my arms. Too late. The red slit deepens and spreads across her sweater. As the color blue fades into the crimson expanse I watch the life fall away from her. Our blood pools together silently landing in the flowing river of water. Holding back the tears I push the hair from her face and kiss her forehead. Tiny lips tremble with fear while the darkness comes. Mirroring my own darkness when she should be reflecting light. My delicate angel of light; falling into my life accidentally and leaving just as suddenly. In life she couldn’t never be my mirror, in death I can see the darkness reflected.

The only thing I have of her is this memory of death. The last time we embraced death was consuming her. Remembering death is the most painful memento as it haunts more powerfully than the memory of her life.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Invited



An Invitation to the home of a Killer! Would you go? I know I would. Even if you might be on the menu? Especially if I was! Why disappoint! Ha! You never know what will REALLY happen until you take a chance and jump on it? Lovely idea! Perhaps even lovelier if you were the killer. Am I a killer? Moi? Blaspheme!?! Perhaps unless you know moi... I often wonder about such things before realizing it's a waste of time to wonder. But who can really say what has happened or will happen next. The future hasn't happened yet and you can not stop what will happen. You can try. Here's a very old story and it's very much near and dear to my heart. You can find it in my ebook Killing Changes you here! Enjoy!

Kisses, m.




Killing Changes You.
(4-1-09)

“I could get used to this!” was what I thought as I slit his throat with my sharp knife.

The precise blade slid ever so delicately through and through his skin without the slightest bit of hesitation. Blood spilled down his chest blanketing the white button-down shirt in a dark crimson red. I was feeling very much like Hannibal Lecter when I licked the blade clean of his blood. Slowly, as I continue to clean my blade, I watch his body melt into the pool of red liquid on the wooden floor before me. You know what they say, the first time is all it takes to become addicted.

Killing changes you. Once you’ve committed the unspeakable act there’s no turning back. Funny thing was, I knew from that moment on, I was hooked. Who would be my next victim? See after all, this wasn’t planned. It was an opportunity. I seized it! The thrill of taking a life had always been on the top of my “DO NOT SHARE” list. You know that list of dark sadistic things that you just don’t share. Everyone has one, but you don’t speak of it.

I had to wait, like a predator stalking my prey. Watching… waiting... wanting… until just the right… moment. Perhaps this is how Jack the Ripper felt as he chose his victims? And who would catch me? I would be leaving the country in a matter of days. No one would be shocked if I never returned. No one could blame me for walking away from my dead end job, my artistic failure. Again, they might miss him? Doubtful, I surprised him. He wasn’t scheduled to return from his trip for a few more days. You know the type, workaholic, and no next of kin. Only leaves the house for the office and returns back promptly each day. The cleaning lady was the only person who would find the body, and she wouldn’t be returning until Monday. But again, my darkness consumes me and the wheels start to spin.

How many ways can you dispose of a body? Too many! Too FUN! Just as I’m dreaming up new, sick and twisted ways to make a body disappear… BAM! “I guess he wasn’t dead after all,” are my thoughts as I’m falling quick, looking up at this bastard holding his throat with one hand and a large blunt object in the other. I’m Out.

I often wondered what it would be like to be tortured. Today I find out. I’m bound (hands & feet) and gagged. He’s sewn up his neck wound and licking the knife – there’s blood – while I have to watch. “See, I guess two can play this game,” he says. It’s my blood… apparently he’s cut me, ten places I can visibly see in my arms and legs. But from what I can feel there are several more than that.

“You should have made sure I was dead!” With a sick sadistic smile he edges closer to me. “Cause you’ll never leave here now.” He grabs my neck, kneels down and slides the blade down my left cheek. I can feel the blood spill out, downward, as it mixes with my tears. “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time,” he whispers in my ear.

Again no one would blame me if I never came back.

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Hold on

The World has much to offer and you should always reach for it while holding on to what's in front of you. There are things to let go of in life and things to keep reaching for. If you're lucky then you've found the one thing you'll never let go of while reaching for those dreams. Keep holding on to it... Love is grand & full of romance among other things that have nothing to do with being romantic... if you let it happen. You're only a hopeless romantic if you give up on yourself. Be a hopeful romantic! Find, be and stay in Love!

Anyhoo... Here's another bit of photo art that I was playing with a few weeks ago [it really wasn't supposed to see the light of day but some people can't seem to stay out of my photo library... *a little self control please] and a 400 which was a piece I had considered for my first e-book of short fiction Between The Sheets. You can buy my ebook here! Enjoy life, love and breathing.

PS: For those asking & emailing me about my return to posting fiction on the blog... Please think of Matisse for now. I will have an answer or rather something to share soon.

kisses, m.

golden gate vs the lovers 2013
 
 
Tighter.
(2-2-2011)

Through the low lights of approaching evening we are two that become one. Hand in hand walking, our arms locked into each other while our feet match the same stride. The graceful descent of the sun cascades a shadow of lavender across the horizon and a slight chill to the air. The houses seem quieter and less than inviting to our passing steps. Our movements manage to dance in unison through this empty street alone without notice.

The silence that surrounds us sends him into a whimsical mood. With a slip of a hand his arm wraps over and around me with a spin stopping our forward pace. Closer he turns me again and again before taking me in. Hugging gently, his sliding arms circle and lock around my torso. His fingers interlace behind my back. Each finger reaches inward as if to take me in whole. Tighter.

Attempting to match his embrace, my hands scramble. Both arms are struggling to return his hold. Dancing with his merging frame, tighter they squeeze and begin moving closer together. Carefully my probing hands find their way around his body until one ends where another begins. Locking in a grip that rests in the small of his back while my head finds its place upon his chest. Tighter.

The night becomes cooler in our surroundings. Light purple becomes a deeper violet and we’re wrapped around each other in a hold. Our arms are gripping each other securely and pulling without restraint until there is nothing between them. The crushing force of our weight against each other completes the circle. My face rests on his chest looking up into his eyes. His eyes look down into mine and he releases a heavy breath upon my face. I rest my lips upon his neck with a gentle kiss and squeeze. His arms return the constriction and his lips touch my forehead. Our breathing sounds deeper through the force of our embrace. Strained shallow breathes escape with a heaviness that’s familiar. Tighter.

Our bodies have no beginning and no end in the last light of the day. There are no sounds around us. No streets, no houses, and no one walking through the night. There’s only this feeling of security in our circle. In this moment we’re all alone. Alone in the world but we’re connected in our own moment. There’s nothing and no one anymore.

Friday, July 1, 2011

Let me

Juno Temple and Brittany Snow c/o tylershields.com



Let Me


Let me tell you one thing, I’m through with the games. I’m done.” It’s the same lie I tell myself every day except it’s realized itself into words that I’m telling the incomparable Missy LaRue. She’s spent the better part of three years following my song with a dance in this third rate club. Somewhere between the first and second act of the night I tell her about my new ex-love and how much of a revelation it’s brought upon me.

What if I told you that you were going to die? If I told you that you were going to die tomorrow would that change how you lived today?”  There’s not an answer in the house. It’s the one thing Missy likes to end her set with and tonight is different cause something happens when she asks it. It’s a hypothetical question meant to get the audience going ‘round in their heads. Never once does Missy ever expect a damn person pipe up with an answer. But tonight when she ended with that thought, somewhere off in the far right corner it came, a small voice that grew louder and louder until I heard what it was saying.

“It doesn’t matter.” The small man yells from the corner of the club before following it up with a colorful word or two between his rant. He’s telling her off. Telling her that she doesn’t know a damn thing after he calls her a self-righteous bitch before telling everyone that she’s a lying piece of work. Now Missy La Rue doesn’t jive with much of what other people think about her. Not one bit, but when you traipse across the advice she’s given others that gets her a bit worked up. Cause Missy don’t talk for vanity or personal gain. Missy wants to see people succeed and she knows like I know that most people won’t do a damn thing unless someone tells them to. That’s where her horse and pony show comes in.

Honey, quit lying to yourself!” Missy tells me before motioning to the powder puff by the mirror.
“I’m not lying. What?”
“Honey we all say enough with the game. 'I quit.' 'I toss in the towel.' And although you can’t quit the game of living, you'll still lie to yourself and say it. You know, the only thing you ought to be through with is thinking you can change people. That’s what you should think. Every time you drag another one of these third rate bastards back from this third rate club and tell yourself that it’s love, that’s the lie. That man wants one thing and it sure as hell ain’t love. But he’ll tell you that just the same to get it. ”
“Oh Missy, you’re being…”
“Honest. Darling, I’m being honest with you. Which is more than anyone else in this world or next will ever be with you and don’t you forget it. I’m honest with every person I meet and their behavior dictates whether they are friend or foe, not mine. My sharp tongue won’t harm you if you take the truth like it is a sword to the chest. A lie is the kind that stabs you from the back.”
“Missy then how will I ever…”
“True love waits. A man that wants to know you, all of you, he does so. It’s what he’s after and he’ll be glad to wait for much more. The ones that want ONLY will settle on that. Just that.”
“Missy, I love you. Thank you for…”
“Darling you don’t know love, but I get your sentiment anyway. You’re ok in my book.”

Now sugar, you’re entitled to your opinions about my show. I don’t think much about people who don’t have a lick of sense in their head. And fact be told, I love me a man with enough gumption to stand up for what he believes in. But first things first the name calling I can’t abide by and the second thing… the way you talk to someone you’ve never met speaks highly about the type of character you are. And you’re message is coming in loud and clear.”

Missy continues same as always. When she takes the path from side stage and walks down into the crowd she motions to Mike the stagehand to move the spot to follow her down into the crowd. The oohs and aahs of the crowd grow louder and louder until Missy is standing right next to the small man.

“Well sugar, what’s your name?  
“Jerod” the man breathes into the microphone while a thin blanket of sweat coats his face.
“Well, Jerry darling, what do have to say?”
“Um,” the small man swallows and says nothing.
“Come now, cat got your tongue?”
Silence emanates from the nervous small man.
“That’s what I thought, Sugar. Where was I? Yes, let us talk a little more. I don’t expect you or any of you to follow my word to the law. In fact that’s not at all what I’m about. I’m not a role model, I’m not a savior, and lord knows I’m not a saint. I’m simply here telling a little of what I know to those who may or may not know some of that already. And maybe it might help someone from making the same mistakes I've made. Oh yes! Jerry darling, are you ready to talk?”
“Ma’am, I don’t much agree with what you just said. I don’t like what game you’re running here. You’re trying to get people to do what you say and you’re a liar by that much.”
“Alright, that’s an opinion. No one is running a game any which way or how. And honey you shouldn’t make what I’m doing about you. Cause you don’t have to come here to listen to what I’m saying or watch what I’m doing. These people out here in the crowd, do you see them? Take a look. These fine people they get what I’m doing and what I’m REALLY about. And they do.”
With those words the audience roars with applause. Missy smiles and pats the small man on the back while the noise and laughter grows and when it rescinds she speaks her last words on the matter.
“So honey, I’m afraid your opinion… it doesn’t matter.”

And with those words, Missy let the man sit exactly where he was. Leaving him with his own words to ponder and the crowd with a show that they wouldn’t much forget when they wondered if tonight was truly their last one.


Let me tell you something… went to a show recently and saw the amazing and talented artist heckled. And the person turned the tables on the jerk. I thought that was pretty crafty and resilient of the artist. The man left and I stood still in awe of the artist for standing up for himself. I do love when people represent themselves. The experience reminded me of this story. Because to do what needs to be done as an artist, a writer, an actor, and person living from talent it is having a strength within to deflect the negativity. Ultimately as a fledgling writer I don't have the luxury of experiencing the exciting life or blows that come from the spotlight. And I can't say that it upsets me either. That form of negativity is something my life does not need. 


So let me tell you... Actually, why don’t you tell me? Come now, what do you have to say? You all have something even if you think otherwise. I promise you that much. Please realize that your words have power. All of our voices do. And you should speak for yourself. I love when people represent themselves confidently. Be proud of your voice. It’s amazing. We are all teachers in this life. Just remember you shouldn’t expect others to listen or follow your words as dogma. Likewise you should never follow anyone’s words as law. There is not one truth I can tell you that you will not discover for yourself.

So go forth, learn and teach. But you must understand your knowledge will be interpreted and spread by others. The message you choose to share can have significant effects. You can choose to attack others or be positive about what you’re saying. Remember, no one will think lesser of you for saying exactly what's on your mind as long as you do it in a manner that is respectful to others. You may not agree with what someone is doing in this life but that is not up to you. Furthermore you can’t disagree with a situation without being fully informed. And unless you bother to ask someone about their situation I doubt you’ll ever know the truth of what that is. Live, love and breathe with everything you’ve got. kisses, lovelies. m.