Crystal hated the holidays. Maybe it was the weird disconnect that Southern California had from “winter” ideals. She’d be lucky if it would be cold enough to wear a light coat by December 25. All the fake snow and scarves weren’t doing much for her when it was still in the mid-70s. Maybe it was just the endless loop of Christmas songs that set her teeth on edge. Maybe it was her recent 45 birthday.
Julia couldn’t believe she was alone in the Norwegian woods, wearing only her coat and boots. She felt a little ridiculous half dressed in the woods, but Bjorn insisted this was another important step in her training.
So she was alone, almost naked in nearly pitch black woods. “How can it be so dark?” Julia muttered. Tripping on another tree root, but this time she dropped the lantern. “Damn it,” she hissed when she heard the tinkle of breaking glass and the light went out.
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Many people don’t know this, but Thomas Alva Edison, the light bulb guy, also claimed to have been working on, what can only be colloquially called, a ghost telephone. Historians all seem to agree that no evidence that he did more than talk about the idea exist. There are no plans, no prototype has even been found, and no patent filed.
Samantha pulled her emerald cloak a little tighter around herself. She could hear the faint sound of the drums and see the orange glow of a fire in the trees. She made her way down the dark path, the drums beginning to beat in her blood. The autumn air held a chill that invigorated her. She followed the path and the crisp scent of wood fire toward the meeting.
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London lay alone in bed. She sipped her pina colada and waited. London didn’t like waiting, and she was already nervous about tonight. The drink, heavy on the rum, helped steady her frayed nerves.
I watched your last video almost breathless.
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Stephanie fumbled her keys into the lock, and tripping in the dark she made her way into her apartment. She was still a little tipsy from her night out. She dropped her jacket on the floor, letting her shirt follow in short order. A trail of clothes laid in her wake as she made her way to her bedroom.
Lady Charlotte’s maid entered the sitting room carrying a small bouquet of flowers. Lady Charlotte immediately laid aside her novel to receive the flowers.
“Flowers, my lady,” the maid said handing her the bouquet. There was no card, but the flowers themselves carried the message. She ran her fingers over the sprigs of rosemary, the herb’s scent crisp and almost astringent scent clinging to her fingers. So, this will be an assignation that I won’t forget. She mused, considering the herb’s meaning .
The heat broke with sunset. The air was still damp, but finally cool. The temperature kept dropping as it got darker.
I had the house to myself, and I was getting ready for bed. I stayed in shower letting the cool water pull the heat from my skin. I’d been sleeping nude, so I dried off but didn’t bother with clothes. I tied my hair up in a messy knot, wanting its damp weight off my back.
As I was locking up, the breeze flowing through the screen door was irresistible. The yard was dark, and I could see the mist rolling in. There wasn’t even much of a moon.