Monday, October 27, 2008

Writer's block???

To all the wonderful readers of this blog:

I really haven't had any inspiration to continue on with this blog. However, I'm not ready to give up quite yet. Whenever I do write fiction it's so liberating and I love it. Unfortunately, my stories come in random blurbs.

I am willing to take suggestions. If anyone wants to give me a fresh story idea, scenario or topic, I will try my best to accommodate it. Thanks again for reading.


Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Cat and Mouse

Tasha set her glass back down on the coffee table and glanced up at the clock above the front door. It was already 9:00 and she was starting to get restless. She got up and went to the mirror in the hallway to give herself yet another once over. Her curly brown hair was wild, but still in its place. Her red lipstick matched her jewelry. Her stilettos made her already seemingly tall 5’8” frame compete with that of a supermodel. The black cocktail dress she wore accentuated every curve and playfully showed off her healthy breasts.

Finally she heard a tap on her front door, then the doorbell. Since she already knew who it was and didn’t want to seem anxious, she walked back over to the coffee table to retrieve her almost empty glass of vodka cranberry.

“Coming,” she said, as she downed the last of her drink, sucking the sour tang from the lime on the rim, before going to unbolt the door.

As she pulled back the door, there he stood, almost tropical in his tan khaki pants and loose cream button up shirt. His dreadlocks, more tame than her curly ringlets, were slightly pulled back in a loose ponytail. He smiled, sending shivers up her spine. It had been a long time since she had seen Dameon.

“Come here you,” she breathed, pulling him close. She could feel the vodka starting to make her feel good already.

“I see you got started without me,” he said.

“You want a drink?” she asked. “I can make you one.”

“No,” he said. “Let’s go, we’re going to be late.”

Dameon held the door open for her as she slid into his Charger. They had late night dinner plans with a few of his friends, whom she had never met. On the way over to the restaurant the HD satellite playing some reggae music mostly made up their conversation.

“You look nice,” he said staring straight ahead.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she commented back, smiling, but Dameon seemed to be focused on the road.

Tasha looked over at Dameon, he seemed so familiar yet so distant. She didn’t ask any questions, she figured there would be time for that later.

When they walked into the restaurant, a light-skinned woman with bone straight hair and a really tight pencil skirt, motioned for the two of them to join the table. Sitting at the table was, what seemed like two other couples.

“Hi, I’m Joyce,” said the light-skinned girl, sizing up Tasha. “This is Marv, Vicki and John she said, pointing to each person around the table introducing them to Tasha.

Tasha smiled, but felt out of place. These people seemed out of her league and Dameon’s. She wondered why he had brought her here. When the waiter came around she ordered a glass of wine and hoped this would be a quick meal, because she wanted to let loose and enjoy herself tonight.

The two couples were in the middle of talking business when she and Dameon sat down. They didn’t feel the need to switch up the conversation on her behalf and Dameon seemed to jump right in, so she sat there, sipping her wine in silence. She noticed Joyce had a huge rock on her finger, which indicated Marv might be her husband. But when she looked over at Marv, his hand was empty. After about 30 minutes of pointless observations and conversation, the couples still had not ordered anything. They all sat around sipping, when Joyce turned to her and said, “So, how do you know our Dameon here?”

“Our?” she thought to herself.

“Oh we go way back,” she said, forcing a smile. She set her glass back down on the table and gave Dameon a look like, “let’s get the f*ck out of her!”

He smiled back at her meekly.

“Excuse me,” she said, turning to Dameon. “Can I talk to you in private for a second?”

She snatched his arm, practically dragging him from the table.

“What is it?” he said, sounding just as irritated as she felt.

“When you called me and asked if I wanted to “get together”, she said. “This is not what I had in mind.”

“Maybe you should slow down on those cocktails,” he said in response.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said. “Even before we got here you were sucking them down.”

She stuck her arm out to swing at him, but missed and he grabbed her arm, pulling her close. Then for the first time, in a long time, they caught each other’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know why I brought you here. Let’s go.”

They walked back towards the table and Joyce got up from her chair, “is everything alright?” she asked.

“Yes, we’re fine, but I think we’re gonna take off,” he told her.

Back in the car, again, the only conversation was coming from the HD satellite radio. When he pulled up to her apartment complex Tasha hesitated in getting out.

“I’ve missed you,” she said softly.

“Get out,” he said. “This was a mistake.”

“Then why did you call me,” she asked, feelings of anger making her body begin to tremble. “Why did you tell me you wanted to see me?! Why did you have me get all dressed up so I could sit there and look stupid in front of your “friends”, she screamed as she made fake quotation marks in the air.

“You know what, forget it!” Tasha swung the car door open hastily slamming it shut behind her. Tears were streaming down her face. She was so confused. When she started looking for her purse to get her keys out she realized she'd left her purse in the car.

“Damn it!”

She turned around and there was Dameon, standing right in her path. He always seemed to be in her way. Never moving. Always just there taking up space never giving her answers, never making her feel any better about any situation. Usually when she broke it off with an ex, that was it, there was no turning back. With Dameon things were somehow different. He was strong, motivated, yet such a man, which she believed always made it harder for him to express himself. And therefore she had a tendency to excuse his behavior and continue to love him no matter what.

“What?!” she said, her voice cracking.

He handed Tasha her purse. Then he leaned in and wiped the mess of tears from her face, kissing her chin, then her cheek, and then her forehead. Tasha pulled back shaking her head “no” turning towards her front door. As she started walking, from behind her she could hear Dameon call out, “I’ve missed you too.”

It was the same routine. The games he played would never change. She sighed heavily turning her key in the door.

“Come on,” she said. “I’ll make you a drink”…

Friday, January 25, 2008


Birds sing their song
Cascading waters flow
A breeze whistles among treetops
Night falls.

Is the mid-night
Reflection of the moon
That glistens soundly upon me

Soft petals fall
Rippling wonders of
Dreams untouched by curious

Friday, December 14, 2007

Mixed Drinks

It was the summer of Tatiana’s 21st birthday. She was caught up in a whirlwind of partying, drinking and making mistakes she wouldn’t allow herself to regret. She couldn’t risk not living her life to the fullest.

It was then on a Saturday night when she and some of her girls headed down to their favorite spot in hopes of having some fun. They were all so innocent, ordering Long Islands and vodka cranberries. Life was a party and they were invited.

Somehow towards the end of the night Tatiana was separated from her friends. She was drunk, and at first didn’t notice him leaning into the bar, peering over at her. He licked his big juicy lips and smiled over at her, like he was up to something. She didn’t catch on, because she was too busy slurping the last drop of vodka cranberry from its rocks glass.

Tatiana set the glass back on the bar trying to signal the bartender, when he scooted closer to her. He laid his eyes on her empty glass and asked her what she was drinking. She managed to communicate a jumbled, vodka cranberry. He placed a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and told the bartender to add a Hennessy to her vodka order. The bartender moved quickly and soon she was once again sipping red liquid through a straw.

She looked over at her mystery man, intrigued now by his smoothness. At 21, a man buying her a drink was like receiving a brand new Cadillac. She flashed him her, “I’m too cute smile,” and stuck out her hand, sloppily introducing herself. For a while, after that, he did all the talking. Asking her basic questions like, “how old was she,” “where was she from” and “if she had a man.”

The DJ made the conversation strenuous, but in between songs she was able to yell out her number for him to punch into his phone. After they finished their drinks, he lead her onto the dance floor so he could get better acquainted with her body. Standing next to him in her stilettos, she still didn’t reach his 6’2 frame.

After a few songs, he stooped down to give her a hug, while whispering, “it was nice meeting you,” in her ear, before walking away. She watched him until he became lost in a crowd of party people. For a moment, in the middle of the crowded dance floor Tatiana was alone. Her thoughts were blurry and her mind wandered. Unable to focus she stumbled in the opposite direction searching for her friends.

She found them all outside on the patio, gossiping about the night. But for the first time she wasn't interested. She told them she needed to go home, because she didn't feel right. She needed to lye down. The girls headed back into the club, but made it no further than the dance floor, when a couple of shots broke out. In unison a blood cry escaped the lips of every woman in the club and the crowd either ducked for cover or started to bail for the front entrance.

The club became a mayhem of people scattering everywhere, fighting for survival. Then through her drunken state, Tatiana spotted the victim. In the middle of the dance floor lay a man, no younger than her. His right cheek was blown away and there was a trickle of blood, like an arrow, leading to her feet.

Suddenly a firm hand grabbed her arm and yanked her in the direction of the front entrance. It was the man she met at the bar. He was covered in blood and pushed through the crowd with a great force dragging her along with him. She was too drunk and confused to fight him. She had no idea where her friends were at this point, they got separated with the rush of the crowd. The man lead her to the back of the parking lot and dis alarmed a truck, telling her to get in...

I know y'all gonna hate me but to be cont...

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Fighting With Tyrell

Toni's eyes popped open and her ears rang as a loud echoing noise pounded in her head. She searched the room trying to recall where she was and what had just happened. The steam from the tub mixed with the orange liquid she had sucked down, had easily put her to sleep. Good thing she had propped her head up on a towel when she first sat down. The alcohol was really taking a toll on her as she began to realize the loud noise was coming from right outside of apartment 2B, her door. Oh shit, she thought leaping out of the tub, stumbling on a trail of clothes that lead to the bedroom. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her.

On her way to the front door she used the white walls of the hallway to guide her, knocking down a couple of picture frames in the process. Toni peeped through the tiny hole in the front door. Two big brown angry eyes stared back. Tyrell never looked so mad. His hands were clenched into two strong fists, and she watched as he paced back and forth like a fire breathing dragon.

Now what? She thought to herself. She hadn't gotten this far in her plans of revenge and the loud noise wasn't helping the alcohol in her system. It was now or never. Through the door Toni boldly belted, "What nigga!?"

"Bitch! You had better open up this door,” Tyrell replied without pause or any hesitation.

Bitch? I know that nigga did not just call me out of my name she thought to herself, helping to further her decision as to whether or not to open the door.

"Fuck you!" she hollered back turning on her heal towards the bedroom. She then heard the slight jingle of keys, and listened as the lock began to be tampered with. Just then it dawned on her that he knew where she hid the spare key, but it was too late to escape into the bedroom.Tyrell barreled heavily through the door nearly knocking her over, slamming the door behind him. He stomped towards her, his footsteps heavy with anticipation, backing her into a corner. His clenched fists were still at his sides.

It was way to late for words or adult conversation. Especially after drinking all that Gin and throwing his clothes out the window. Toni looked into his eyes and her memory flashed back to the last time he had been mad at her, which had been too often lately. These fights had become routine, but she was officially fed up.

In fact just the other night she had caught him on the phone in the other room whispering to some heffa. When she called him on it, he had blown up in her face asking her "why she was always ridin' him on some shit." His eyes had squinted up creating the same crease his face always scrunched into when he was angry. No sooner had the image of his heavy eyes burning holes into her escaped her head than one of his firmly clenched fists landed directly into her right eye.

"Now look what you made me do,” he said.

Toni reached up and covered her eye with the palm of her hand. She knew it was in the process of swelling, but at the same time she went numb and blacked out. Two seconds later Toni found herself naked on the floor. The fall had knocked her towel across the room. Tyrell stood over her and showed no mercy as he began to kick her in the back. Toni’s head spun, and pain started to creep through her body.

"I told you not to fuck with me bitch,” he yelled.

Tyrell grabbed her roughly by both wrists dragging her down the hallway over the pictures that had fallen, dirty clothes and shoes. The aggression Tyrell had as he tossed her on the bed was nothing she had ever experienced before from any man. He found the leftover liquor bottle on the nightstand and took a long hard swig. Only slightly conscious and still tipsy Toni was beginning to fear for her life. She tried to sit up but it was impossible.

“Tyrell,” she mumbled, “What are you going to do to me?”

He smiled and then spat on her carpet as he set the bottle back down. He looked a mess, unshaven his clothes wrinkled like they were a few weeks old in wearing. He strutted over to the radio, turning it to the local hip-hop station and began to nod his head to the beat. Turning it up he began to undress, first his shirt then his jeans fell to the floor in a heap. In her head Toni knew what was going to happen next, but Tyrell had left her pretty fucked up and she lay there helpless, a single tear rolled out of the corner of her eye into the rumpled white sheets. Tyrell smiled and danced over to her.

“Yeah that's right, I came over here to get some of this good pussy,” he said. “This pussy is mine bitch, don't you forget that shit. I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

As he entered Toni she breathed in deep, in pain, before she blacked out again…

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Our Eyes

There is an interest in his eyes
Deep inside those brown pools of wonder
Inviting my attention
I smile

Deep inside those brown pools of wonder
I find comfort
I smile
My imagination runs wild

I find comfort
Lost without intuition
My imagination runs wild
Those eyes take me places

He gazes at me intently
Inviting my attention
He smiles
There is an interest in my eyes.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

I'll Talk to You Later

I rolled off of Jerome, still sweaty and slightly out of breathe. I sat up and looked over at him lying on his back. He was so sexy with his long hair and toned body. His facial expression, however, was looking the exact way I was feeling about the relationship we didn't have.

I began to search through the clothes on the floor. Unable to find anything casual enough to throw on, I headed for the patio in the nude. On my way I grabbed a mixed CD and popped it into the stereo. The music was the only thing to fill the awkward after sex silence, which Jerome and I often shared.

Once outside I lit a cigarette, and thought, “hey at least the sex is good”. I smiled to myself and begin to chuckle as I replayed moments in my head from when we had first started having this affair.

“What’s so funny?” said a deep voice from behind me.

I turned around to find Jerome’s tall dark frame completely clothed in a white dress shirt, dark slacks and a tie that draped open around his neck.

“Nothing,” I replied.

He stood in the doorway leading to the patio staring past me, his eyes focused on the view of the city. I turned back around to face the other way, maybe to see what he was looking at, but I’m sure we saw things differently. Jerome grabbed my hands in his and pulled me close. It felt so good to be in his arms. He lifted me up gently so that we were eye level and I gave him a soft good-bye kiss.

"I'll talk to you later," he said.

He was smiling, but his eyes showed something else, someone distant. Jerome set my bare feet back down on the patio before disappearing back into my bedroom. The only thing I could hear in the background was the front door shut, and the music softly playing.

Jerome and I have been sexing each other up for a few months now, and so when he tells me, "he'll talk to me later", I know that means, the next time he wants to get laid.

“At least he isn't married”, I think to my self and sigh heavily into my cigarette. I let the smoke linger, expressing a feeling of relaxation after having mind blowing sex. I put my cigarette out. Later tonight I would be having dinner with Marcus and Thursday night I had plans with J.J.

My emotions for Jerome would at this moment have to be put on hold…