Crazy Eight? No Crazy Eth! [Xavior Scrapbook]

[Xavior Silhouette]

Hello, my name is Rot which is just a pen name. I'm glad I wasn't fortunate enough to acquire that name at birth. Anywho this is just a formal introduction as to who I am, what I do, etc. I am a Hawaiian born dude who moved from paradise to San Antonio Texas. We moved about five years back because it was time to go. We bought our original lot of land for about five thousand and sold it for a quarter of a mil. The move has been tough, however in order to cope I turned to writing. I began to seriously write at fifteen starting out with simple things that interested me. I've been writing ever since. I've found my niche writing in horror, suspense and bizarre. To be more specific though, I favor horror erotica. It is what I'm good at and I can't deny that I don't evny those who can write a story without some sort of implication of intercourse. My stay here in Mizahar has been rocky to say the least. I've been here since 2009 and have been off and on playing various characters. But between mizahar and real life, I've been published in small anthologies under various different names. I'm embarrassed to say which anthologies mostly because of how niche it is. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with this scrapbook, but what I'm thinking of doing is picking a writing prompt, a word, phrase, etc., and writing a short story that uses that prompt in some way. A new prompt will be posted up every Thurseday and a story will be posted within a week until the next Thurseday when it is due. As an example of what I mean I'm going to post an exercise I've done in the past and this Thurseday will be the official start. The prompt was: Memories I'm putting this in Spoiler because it contains adult situations. Secret : The Thought That Counts By: ROT "I still remember when you first tried to make my favorite kind of dessert. Cherry pie with a bit of vanilla ice cream. I love how it melts over the warm butter crust, ah! I'm making myself salivate. That is no way to present myself in front of you.” An older man, possibly in his 40s, dressed in a warm colored sweater, brought his hand to his mouth to clear the bit of drool that had formed. The scarf he wore around his neck lifted a bit, swept up by the brisk and cool wind that disturbed the brown and orange leaves. They crinkled and rolled across the green grass, some scrunched and crackled as our narrator leaned back and placed his hands on the cool, soft, ground. "I'm sure you remember that day. I got home from work and you presented to me this black and charred thing in a pan. Ha! I can almost smell it now.” He grimaced, “Good thing you bought enough supplies for at least eight more. You really weren't good at baking honey. But you got a lesson that day I'm sure you never forgot.” His head tilted to the sky and watched the fluffs of clouds as they rolled in thick and grey. All encompassing, the grey seemed to consume the light blue and begin to paint it black. “Perhaps there will be rain tonight, pity. It’ll cut into our time.” He muttered as his eyes slowly closed over the glossed and hazel irises. The wind gently whistled in his ear as he sat in silent thought, secluded from the city noise, buffered by a hill. He gasped, suddenly, as he felt a touch, then an arm wrap around his torso. A body pressed to his back made him shiver in subtle pleasure. He could feel her soft chest press against his shoulders as his body relaxed into the gently touch of the apparition. A soft hand stroked over the wool surface of the sweater and comforted him. A soft rumble vibrated under the soft, fair, palms. The hair on his neck, slightly greyed from age, bristled as the touch gave him goosebumps. "Why would I forget that day, it was the first day we had sex James...” A soft, sultry, voice whispered into an ear. James could almost catch the scent of her perfume before he felt that warm breath roll over his neck like a sea’s breeze. "Of course you would go straight to the sex wouldn't you? That day was even more important then just that, it was the day I proposed to you Grace.” A soft chuckle manifested behind him as his eyes remained closed. He enjoyed the sensations and wanted it to last, to keep his mind clear of the images of the world and during a rare moment see through feel. Grace’s hand continued to stroke the raspy fabric and continued to travel lower and lower until James gasped gently when it reached his groin, "Tell the rest of the story, what happened after I presented your gift?” "Are you sure you don’t want to do other things,” the sly grin formed across his face as he felt the the vibrations of a zipper. “Mmm, I taught you how to bake,” James paused as he let out a soft gasp, "I stood behind you...” James paused as he felt the hand play over the cotton fabric of his boxers. It groped and stirred life in the man. "Yes. Then what?” That sultry voice whispered in his ear. Grace's breath caressed James's neck as he spoke. James could feel it slowly grow deeper as he firmed up. "I held your hands in my own. Taught you how to measure the ingredients...” He trailed off. “Don’t forget how you ground against me,” Grace interjected. “Tsk, how could I forget the subtle waver of your hips against our shared love. I leaned close to you and kissed your neck--” “You nibbled it hungrily,” Grace once more interjected. “But of course, we were gonna have pie later! How couldn’t I have been hungry for a bit of teaser taste?” The wind shifted directions and carried his laughter into the cesspool of noise of the city. His legs shifted and opened wider as his head rested on her strong shoulders. He gasped as Grace found her object of desire. James began to breath deeper and faster, the eyes concealed by their lids glazed with pleasure. "I opened those tight fitted jeans, I could nearly smell your arousal over the freshly made crust. I slid them down over your curved hips, so sexy.” He flinched as Grace played with a special spot. "I took off my own jeans and wrapped my arms around you. You had the softest breasts you know that? I can still smell the perfume you wore. A flowery musk and distinctly your own, unforgettable. My body was filled with desire...like it is now. I wanted to fill you start a life with you, be with you forever.” Grace hummed against James’ back, "You did didn't you?” A slight nibble to the neck, "You fucked me hard that night.” "Yes,” he hissed as his hips jerked, "I leaned you over the counter and...Oh how you whimpered so needfully. I moaned right along with you. My hips moved on their own it felt like. My hands wrapped around your body and played with you. You were so smooth and easy. I remember the scent distinctly.” He gasped, “The scent of sex mixed with perfume and my cologne, unforgettable.” He gasped and felt his body freeze and relax, “Ugh, keep going honey. That smell, that smell I love more then the scent of cherry pie.” "You milked with need and made the cutest of sounds. It wasn't long before my heat began to spill into you. I could feel the entire process grow from my groin and envelop my entire body. Nnggh, I can feel it start now. This feeling never felt by my own hand, only you made me feel this way.” There was a brief moment of silence and heavy breaths as James sat against Grace in blissfull afterglow, “I remember feeling you clench rhythmically, ‘Promise you'll never leave me,’ you said. The shock of the question was enough to bring me from the brief lust driven euphoria and into a euphoria full of love. I whispered into your ear, ‘I'll never leave your side, ever.’ I still am by your side Grace.” James's eyes slowly opened as he looked down at his lap. A fresh patch of liquid watered the grass, some of it on his own hand. The warm body behind him had vanished almost instantly. One would have wondered if it was some sort of a trick. The experience James had felt was so, real. But now he sat against warm grass, alone. For a moment he followed the streaks he had left along the ground and found they had reached the smooth, marble slab in front of him. The gravestone sat idle within the secluded cemetery and appeared to be well taken care of compared to the other stones around it. James reached down and slid his boxer up then buttoned his jeans. "That was quite a day wasn't it love? It must have been very special since I'm still here with you.” James, leaned forward and crawled toward the tombstone. Then he turned and pressed his back against the cold marble memorial. "And to think, this all started with a homemade pie,” Jame's chuckled befor he tilted his head back onto the gravestone. He imagined that warm shoulder once more, but it wasn’t the same with his eyes open. The clouds had grown thicker as a wall of rain began to race over the shallow hills of grave sites. James watched as the wall of droplets consumed the field and soon himself. It had only been seconds before his clothes were soaked through. His car remained n the stone paved road, on as the emergency lights flashed. No one would be around, it was a shame that some bury their dead here and never return for a visit almost as if they had buried a dark secret. "But not me, I'm right by your side Grace, my love, forever.” A hard gust of wind blew and sent shivers up his spine. He stood and began to walk to his car. Some would find the state of sogginess to be miserable, but James in that moment was filled with happiness. He stopped near the car as the rain pelted the metal frame. The water dented and splashed small puddles along the pitted roof. Like himself, it had seen a lot in its days. Fleetingly he turned back around for one last good bye. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, or his over active imagination, but as he stared at the grave with a shocked expression an outline could be seen. The rain splashed on some invisible force shaped as a person. It stayed and seemed to walk closer toward James. The water that pooled on the ground and leaves separated as invisible feet walked through it. His heart raced as he watched. A firm gust of wind blew through the figure. A solo piece of paper glided like a kite through the rain and past through the invisible force and slapped itself against Jame’s chest. The figure seemed to dissolve into nothingness as the rain continued to fall uninterrupted. James peeled the bit of paper off his chest and read what was written on it. when he finished he simply grinned. Heart relaxed and a feeling of closure draped over his shoulders like a warm blanket. "I know you will never leave my side either. Thanks for the coupon for a free slice of cherry pie...”

[Xavior Silhouette]

So I had a thought, how would people feel if I open up Thursday prompts to everyone? How it would work is as follows. The prompt is posted in my Scrapbook, you take a week to write whatever form of literature, edited or not, and post it into your scrapbook. When Thursday rolls around again you post a link to what you wrote on this scrapbook for everyone to see...especially me because I enjoy reading other's fiction. Not only can other's refer to the "master list" of stories, but they can also be guided to give constructive criticism. Just a thought, if y'all like it I'd love to see a "here here," in my new scrapbook haha! On that note please enjoy a youtube song of the celtic sounding? If it isn't a celtic chant, I'd love to know what the heck I am listening to so i can educate myself and others haha!

[Xavior Silhouette]

Well Thurseday has come and gone and I haven't got a dang thing written lol. I'm horrible at that and really need to work on it. However, I do have a story to tell about the rare creatures in the north, but common pests close to Mexico. Those creatures name is Mexican Internationals. Okay, so I had a great first night being a server for Embassy Suites near the airport. However, I had my first run in with the dreaded international table. This table had three adults and five small kids. I greeted them and left a menu, I should of known they'd be a hard table while I was walking away, they stopped me and began to ask question after question. I didn't mind it at the time, but I had three other tables. Anyway got them situated and attended to my other tables. As I was on my way back to put in an order they stop me again. The mother, who was obviously manic because of the rowdy kids, asked if we had an apple. I said I'd see if I could find something. I came back and told them we only had bananas. I also brought their drinks, not just water, but the three milks and their sodas. Not a big deal. I asked if they were ready to order and they were. I had food in my hands that needed to be run out to another table when the mother stops me again. She says that the milk is too cold and if I can warm it up now. They also wanted to know if their kids chicken tenders are ready. Keep in mind it has been a grand total of two minutes after I took their food order. I said I'd be more than happy to warm the milk and left. I delivered the food and returned to their table to pick up the milk. Again they asked about the chicken tenders. I warmed the milk and asked the chef if he could push the tenders forward. I bring the milks back and the, I'm guessing, the husband arrives. I take his order and get him comfortable. He orders the soup and I say okay! Now I think they are doing well when I vanish in the back to check on my other food. When I come through the door with three plates I almost trip over one of these kids and their mother who had come out of their booths and stood right in my hallway. If I dropped those plates not only would I have been embarrassed, but I would of been so angry. They asked about the tenders and I promptly informed them, "...the kitchen is doing the best they can to accommodate their needs. Please have a seat at your table you're disrupting other guests." They did and I started to deliver my food. The other woman at the table informs me that the milk is still to cold...it burned my fingers when it spilled on me. They also asked if I could add chocolate. Internally, I wanted to murder these people so I turned on my killing with kindness smile. Long story short, I was exaggeratedly over nice to them. It was painfully obvious that I was just saying things to get them off my ass. I come back like a minute later and they all have vanished. The woman who asked about the chocolate asked if we could send it to room X. I said sure it would be right up. I get back to the kitchen and all of their food is ready. Keep in mind a period of only 15 minutes has past at this point. Since they left they'd have to wait another thirty minutes for their food. Room Service was packed! Long story short my manager takes the food up and sees a horror story in their hotel. Kids everywhere, the room destroyed and the adults looking so stressed it wasn't funny. See now I felt bad for them when he told me this and was about to buy a bottle of wine to be sent up to their room. They had asked about our house earlier. That is until he handed me the check book. He had a shit eating grin on his face, "here is your tip." I open it up and I got exactly one dollar. Needless to say I died a little. At the end of the night I put the dollar in an envelope and wrote a note that read, "I apologize if this has caused any inconvenience, however it appears you left your change in the check book. Here is the money returned to the rightful owner. Enjoy your stay." Fuck those people. I wish they stayed and pulled that shit in my face. While they leave I would of made a big show of it and said, "Excuse me, y'all forgot your change! No, it can't be mine oh it is? Then here take it as a complimentary gift of a one dollar soda from one of our various vending machines." I would add, "I'm not a slut. Next time pay the 20 percent before you dig your dick up my ass." Still got 27 dollars in tips, which is fine with me seeing as I had six tables the entire night on my very first night of serving. I feel better now, time for lunch then work again at four. I'm excited!