Recreating Gemma

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Recreating Gemma

Gemma

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Gemma wanted to be loved. More than anything, she wanted that. It seemed such a long time since she had felt wholly, genuinely loved. Time and again, dates came and went with no call and no second date. She perched on the couch with her teacup in hand, wondering why her love life was such a failed mission.

 

She flipped  through the pages of Ms. Magazine, O, and Modern Bride, lamenting to her, I’ve read and reread every self-help self-improvement article in existence. I’ve taken all the quizzes on what to do and what not to do. My friends tell me to change, to try something different, and to try everything from relocation to aromatherapy! What’s a woman to do?

 

Gemma had begun with Fung Shui in her apartment and ended with each date leaving her cold. Suddenly, it hit her. I never reinvented myself! I never recreated my battered, bloodied heart! I never mended me. I never became a welcoming, loving person. I let my last relationship define me! What an epiphany!

 

Finally, she took the time to treat herself well and learn to forgive again. With every step, her heart softened and healed. She had forgotten how forgiveness of others could bind and strengthen her own wounded soul. She hadn’t realized how bitter, hard, and cold she had become. Wow, she thought, even I didn’t like me.

 

Months passed in a blur though she etched every moment into memory. She took slow, methodical steps and had arrived back at her true self, with one suitor who meant the world to her. Gemma smiled, realizing, all I had to do was recreate myself.

 

By Wildfire8470

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Daily Post:  Recreate

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Divine Delicious Debauchery

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Divine Delicious Debauchery

 

Divine Delicious Debauchery

 

“Come join me in divine, delicious debauchery,” he said in a voice so enticingly seductive, Amy couldn’t believe he had said it to her.

 

She had lived a sheltered life, barely more than an existence really, and she checked the spaces beside and behind her to be sure he wasn’t addressing someone else.

 

Jesse stood with his hand out, piercing her with his grey eyes and holding her stare with his own. She took a step and started to reach, but withdrew. He didn’t falter. His arm stayed outstretched, with his rough hand extended, palm up, insistent and waiting.

 

Again Amy reached haltingly and this time he clasped her hand in his before she could change her mind. Nevertheless, he didn’t move. Jesse stood still, raking her with his eyes, and she realized it was a challenge. The decision to move any further would be hers.

 

Jesse cocked a brow, refusing to take his eyes off hers. She risked a full length glance and realized that he oozed sensuality. Every inch of his delicious body made her teeth sweat, but she wondered about the long term prospect thinking, he is delicious, and maybe we will be a divine union. Will we love deeply enough to make even debauchery divine in our perfection, or is he the epitome of walking sex with a few ten dollar words?

 

But she already knew half the answer. No one had ever aroused her interest the way he had in the space of five minutes. And I’m sick of my boring life. I’m sick of my world. I’m sick to death of nothing ever changing.

 

Amy clasped Jesse’s hand more tightly and took the first step.

 

Jesse grinned with wickedness shining in his eyes and licked his full lips.

 

Amy was hit by the enormity of making a sudden decision which she would never be able to turn back from. It was thrilling and terrifying. Amy wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh hysterically or lose her lunch.

 

 

By Wildfire8470

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©June 07, 2017 – 03:09 PM

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Between the Devil and the Deep 4

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Part 4

Test of Faith

dd4

 

Jake plumbed the murky sea, swimming deeper into the spot where he had seen Sirina go under. Nothing was visible in the storm-black seawater. He plumbed more deeply, extending arms blindly in every direction until his lungs threatened to burst.

He retreated and dove again with all of his senses coming alive. Jake hauled his body ever deeper seeing only blackness until his foot brushed against something which was not rock. He froze at the touch of fingertips to his ankle and falling away.

With a ludicrous mix of terror and relief propelling him, Jake pushed deeper with limbs stretched akimbo until he finally caught the feeble fingertips that attempted to alert him. He tightened his grip on a hand too weak to hold his own and hauled them both upward, drawing a great gasp of air upon surfacing. Sirina did not.

Jake caught sight of the cabin cruiser, and motivated by sheer panic, swam with fury, dragging Sirina’s limp body until he could fling himself into the dingy for leverage. Never letting go, he strengthen his hold, moving his hands to her wrist and arm. Jake braced himself and pulled mightily, hauling Sirina aboard.

On instinct, he threw himself over her tiny, lifeless form, shielding her from rain bulleting down amidst a storm which gave no quarter. Jake moved his face close to hers, listening for the sound of breath as he held his own. Nothing! Wait, Was that a shallow breath?!  Again he steeled himself, waiting and listening. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

He grabbed her shoulders shaking her, “Breathe, Sirina! Breathe!” Then he pressed his lips to hers covering her mouth to breathe life into her lungs, reciting silent instructions and shouting panic with every pause. Tilt head back. Pinch the nose. Deep breath and push into her lungs. “Breath, Sirina!” Head tilted. Pinch nose. Deep breath. Push it into her lungs. “Don’t you give up on me! Breath now, he commanded. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Following several more rounds, he paused to listen again. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Willing her to live, and filled with terror, he administered CPR pumping her chest frantically. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. “Again! Again! Again,” Jake instructed himself aloud and to any god that might listen. Once more, he paused to listen. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Wait! What was that?

Sirina’s diaphragm lurched and she coughed.

Jake lifted her head, rejoicing, as Sirina coughed up the ocean which had nearly killed her.

As the storm died and she had sputtered her last, Jake held her close, whispering, “Inhale the good air. Exhale the bad air,” more for his comfort than hers, stroking her hair all the while and feeling her tired body fill with life.

Finally, he lay Sirina back gently, instructing, “Don’t move a muscle,” as if she could.

Sirina managed an exhausted reply, “No problem.”

Jake had already clambered up the side ladder and turned to her, issuing, “Shhh, be still.”

Jake hurdled the side rail and bolted to the wheelhouse. He hit the button which hauled the dingy and its precious cargo to safety.

Sirina stared into the now calm skies knowing that Poseidon had tested and spared her – this time.
  

 

By Wildfire8470

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©December 03, 2015 – 11:21 PM – All Rights Reserved

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Read it from the beginning!
https://wildfire8470.wordpress.com/2015/07/14/between-the-devil-and-the-deep-1/

 

Tags:  Love and Lust, Fantasy, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Man and Mermaid, Romance, Mythology, Poseidon, WiP

Between the Devil and the Deep, Part 3

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Between the Devil and the Deep

Part 3

 

sirena-3

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The axe fell and Jake was extremely fortunate though suffering a good deal of survivor’s guilt. He saw three good friends let go along with many less tenured personnel at Carson & Rand, but he had been promoted to fill a new slot at the company.

 

It was no secret that two positions, now vacated, were conglomerated into one and retitled. One man to do two jobs would ease the burden on the company and would certainly make or break the man appointed to do it.

 

Carson knew Jake was the man for the job. Jake can do this with his eyes closed. He’s been covering for those slackers all year, he thought, recalling that he had hand-picked him from throngs of applicants two years ago.

 

In him, Carson saw a ‘mover and a shaker’, a younger replica of himself. Yes sir, he congratulated himself, Jake will fill the void at a lesser salary and it will still be a hefty raise to him.

 

Jake swallowed hard watching his friends empty their desks and clear out office spaces that he would soon occupy. They said civil goodbyes as he looked slightly past them unable to meet their eyes. He knew it could just as easily be him vacating the premises and he could barely breathe as they filed past him to the door. It was promotion served with a roundhouse punch, upward mobility delivered with complimentary uppercut. 

 

Emotionally and mentally Jake was beaten black and blue. Though relieved he had been spared, he was crestfallen knowing his promotion came at the expense of coworkers whom he liked and respected. My life is a roller-coaster from hell, he thought, scowling out the window.

 

Following grueling weeks of adjustment and weeks of long hours, Jake assuaged his guilt with the purchase of a shiny, new cabin cruiser which he named The Siren. When the load at work finally lightened he took three weeks of leave.

 

Every evening he sailed the sea headed for the same place; the place where she had appeared and everything had changed. He dropped anchor close enough to see the beach where he had met Sirena, or had a momentary breakdown, he reminded himself.

 

This time Jake stayed out all weekend telling himself he had earned a break after the office cutbacks and accompanying anxieties. But while at sea his eyes were constantly scanning, always searching for red hair sparking in the sunlight or anything resembling the mermaid he recalled. Sirena still filled his thoughts and he couldn’t let her go. He still felt unsettled in a way that would give him no peace.

 

Maybe I just need confirmation that she wasn’t real. Maybe that’s closure, he thought, but then tacked on, and maybe I’m fishing for the one that got away. He scratched his chin in consternation, continuing, either way I’ll have a tall fish-tale bigger than the rest, and scowled into the horizon knowing how unlikely it was that he would ever breathe a word of it.

 

Jake cruised several miles out into deeper water, noted dark clouds building in the evening sky, and took it as a personal challenge. He checked the portal weather station and turned the transistor radio on to hear reports of thunderheads and storms throughout the coming night. “Good,” he mumbled, “It suits my foul mood just fine.”

 

Sirena clung to large rocks which balanced precariously atop a sandbar. She could do nothing but hang on for her life and wait, while the driving rain pummeled and stung her flesh. Deafening thunder punctuated by blue-white lightning bolts split the ink-black sky around her. She had never seen her home from this perspective before. She’d never felt threatened by her own world until now.

 

She renewed her tentative grip on slippery rocks and vented her anger trying to best the thunder, she screamed, “I get it! You’re messing with me. Right?” Forgetting herself, she flung her fist into the air and went under again. Scrambling to surface, Sirena realized she could barely swim without her fishtail.

 

She fought to gain ground, pulling her shoulders and torso onto the rocks, angling for a safer position and yelling spitefully, “You’re punishing me for changing the natural order! Right? I thought we had a deal, Poseidon!” Another bolt plunged into murky depths as if in answer, while she watched another enormous wave building.

 

“Rhea should have kicked your ass to kingdom come the first time you ever threw a fit!” Sirena screamed her rage and terror into the driving wind and rain that battered her aching, exhausted body. With too little fight left she tightened her fists and filled her lungs for the next wave.

 

More torrents beat her down threatening to drown, but she wasn’t going to die without driving her point home. With a burst of energy born of anguished rage, she unleashed personal umbrage that matched her fiery hair illuminated in staccato, electric-blue flashes, “You traitor,” she wailed, unleashing hell’s fury, “I said I wanted to try being human! You call this a try? You’re a welcher and a traitor, Poseidon!”

 

Sirena hurled the insult into the torrential night with her voice breaking as rage gave way to throes of impotent sobs, “You make me human and drop me into certain death? That’s it? No warning? Why are you doing this to me,” she demanded, sputtering, coughing up seawater, and facing imminent death, yet raising her fist defiantly.

 

Again, the merciless night saw her hysteria, shrieking and weeping soul-wrenching tears, yet offered no reprieve. Now lost in the virulence of utter madness, Sirena didn’t see the last wave that tore her from the rocks, slammed her back into them and knocked her unconscious. She slipped below the surface, a tiny speck in the vast, violent ocean, knowing that she would die completely unnoticed; utterly alone.

 

Jake heard distinct cries of distress and knew her in an instant. He grabbed the torch in time to see her red hair flashing in white-hot, jagged electric, and shaking her tiny fist in determined resignation even as she went under, time and again. He ran to starboard and leapt astern, with his mind racing, I knew you were real! I knew it! Jake dropped the torch and dove overboard, yelling, “Hang on, Sirena! I’m coming!”

 

By Wildfire8470

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