Separation One of my worst memories has always been the time when Dad came to visit us at Jonathan Street. I was about three, and my parents were about two years out of love. I mustn't have seen Dad in a while because I was scared, despite their encouragement, to cross from my position behind Mum's skirt over the neutral carpet to Dad's arms. I'm not even sure if I recognised him.Separation7 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
There are some photos from my birthday that year - just my parents, three family friends and a big cake - in which I can see so much sadness behind the smiles directed at me. I am, of course, oblivious. There are two breathing tubes going up Dad's nose that I don't remember seeing at all when I was young. I guess they didn't matter before I knew what they were.
Something I remember from before Mum and I left Corella Hill is building a fortress out of two wooden chairs in the lounge. I stalled the construction to stomp into the slate-floored
Daily Quickie #18: Camp Tie-UpsThis is a true story. Names have been changed for the sake of privacy. This story involves minors and light bondage, but no sexual content. If that is what you are looking for, you're in the wrong place. With that said, enjoy!Daily Quickie #18: Camp Tie-Ups23 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
In my job as a camp counselor, I have the express privilege of seeing some weird stuff. Every summer, I spend a week surrounded by about 120 boys between the ages of eleven and seventeen, with the wonderful smell of hormones in the air. And it was this last year that prompted one of the more interesting events I have ever seen there.
I had been reading a bunch of TUG stories all over DA and the like, and decided to try a little social experiment. I set up a knot-tying tutorial for any camper that wanted to take part, and got a fairly large turnout, much to my surprise. When I was a kid, those kind of things tended to generate groans. Apparently, this group was a lot more interested. I would soon discover why.
I spent about half an hour teaching them basic kno
Memoirs of Thiebault #18 - A storm approaches I would never have wanted to let that dear Pauline even imagine that I was not wholly devoted to her, that her will was not absolute to me; yet, with a commander-in-chief like General Masséna, who was very strict about the execution of his orders, it was not easy to reconcile love and military duty. I had thus trained two officers and four secretaries, and as soon as I left the commander-in-chief’s lodgings, I handed the signed letters to my secretaries, I handled the difficult replies and so on until lunch, at eleven. After lunch, I corrected the records kept by my officers, I sent back mine to the secretaries for revision, I read the new letters, then my officers and I analysed them and answered the most urgent ones. In that way, every afternoon, around one o’clock, I could come at Pauline’s, and I was no less punctual than with the commander-in-chief: whether we stayed at her house or left to run errands or pay visits, we only parted aMemoirs of Thiebault #18 - A storm approaches20 hours ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The Ink StopsI’m trying so desperately to forget you. Your memories are screaming in my head as a try to think of Plath and Beckett, and the reasons why I should be focused on this paper. Your face is acid on my mind, the aching in my throat, that precursor of the tears that try to slide from their respective homes into an unknown exit, like myself trying to run from my life and flee into the empty night. Rejection is never a friend; that foe reaches for your throat, chokes your dreams as you speak them, and laughs as you sputter out your laments.The Ink Stops21 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
You always thought my love of books was simply a love of words. It was always so much more. I fell in love with men and women, found a family in a single afternoon, and lost them that evening. I have felt the anguish of an orphaned child while still retaining my two wonderful parents. I have felt the passion of Mr. Darcy while lying in a chilled bed in a frigid room. I felt the desperation of Katniss as she tried to save the people she loved while I