See Me Now?

Sophie woke up late, although as this was the normal time she had woken up for months one could make the argument that Sophie woke up at the usual time.

For that extra thirty minutes of sleep she was required to sacrifice a more relaxed morning routine. She would still do all the things that she would normally do, just a lot quicker.

On waking up Sophie would slowly pad to her kitchen to make her first coffee of the morning. It was the most important cup of coffee of the entire day. When she had contemplated eliminating parts of her morning routine for more time in bed this first coffee would not even be in consideration for elimination; it was an immovable necessity.

As she waited impatiently for the kettle to boil she would distract herself by opening her Twitter app. Normally there would only be a handful of notifications for Sophie to navigate but last night she did something rather impulsively silly. She posted a selfie.

Her motivation for doing so was because she felt good. She was happy and rather than describe her happiness in 280 characters or less she thought it would just be easier to post a picture of her smiling. Look… there’s me… happy.

Her closest followers all reacted with likes and compliments which increased Sophie’s elated mood. Yet that quickly diminished as she read some of the other comments which had taken a rather different approach to being complimentary.

She had ignored the more leering responses but in doing so this had been taken by the unknown contributor as painful rejection who now eloquently dissected Sophie’s entire character by calling her a “thirsty teasing bitch”.

Reading the word ‘thirsty’ caused Sophie to stare at her kettle that was still obstinately boiling. She tutted at the kettle, quickly realising the futility of showing disapproval to an inanimate object in the ridiculous hope that this criticism would make it want to work quicker next time.

Returning to her phone she noted that she had quite a few Direct Messages. Amongst those inexplicably just wanting to say ‘Hi’ there were some more colourful contributions.

Some had seen Sophie’s fully clothed selfie as the perfect opportunity to become some low budget DH Lawrence and seduce Sophie with well trodden erotica.

“Why’s your cock angry, dude?”

Others, however, despite being allured by Sophie’s smiley face felt it was simply necessary to get to the point. “I want to fuck you” stated one response. Concerned that Sophie may have further questions there was a follow up message that read “With this?” Should Sophie also have the slightest curiosity what ‘this’ was he sent a picture of his penis, helpfully next to a drinks can should Sophie need a size comparison.

It wasn’t really the thing she needed to be seeing first thing in the morning, especially on an empty stomach.

It prompted Sophie to briefly ponder what he was hoping to achieve by sending a picture of his penis. Should the sight of some flaccid meat laying mournfully across an aluminium can have aroused burning feelings of lust inside her? Was he hoping his penis was the passport not only to her heart but to between her legs? That she would respond with;

“Well I did have a busy day planned at work but seeing that your cock almost reaches halfway to a monster energy drink can I have called in sick and want you round here now big boy”

With her coffee finally made and despite only just having got out of bed Sophie sat down and turned on the TV. The morning news show she watched was only there for background noise, Sophie got her news by scrolling Twitter and reading people reacting to the news, that way she could know what the most important topics of the day were.

As her TV fizzed to life she caught the end of the local news bulletin. There had been another attack near the local park where Sophie lived. A young woman out jogging was the latest victim. However, this topic was not the focus of everyone’s attention this morning. Something else had happened. Someone had painted the words “See Me Now?” on Churchill’s statue and people were angry.

The dark pink hue of the tv presenter seemed to be a visual embodiment of the anger that was spreading on social media over this incident. For a full five minutes he spat out his condemnation of such an atrocity before interviewing another man who was equally as angry.

Sophie recognised this man. She thought he might be a politician but had never seen him in the House of Commons, yet he held very strong opinions on a lot of subjects. Whilst he ranted about Britain’s heritage being destroyed and history being erased Sophie searched Twitter to see if there was any update over the woman who was attacked.

With her coffee drunk she took a shower, brushing her teeth at the same time. Hurriedly she got dressed and was then clip clopping her way to the tube station. She slowed down as she walked past the park where the attack had happened the. Apart from a few extra police officers around everything was as it usually was.

Sophie grabbed a copy of the Metro as she walked through the entrance of the tube station. She knew she would not have the opportunity to read it as it would be too busy; she’d barely have enough room to breathe let alone turn the pages. She quickly glanced at the front page which led with the story of the defacing of Churchill’s statue (later in her mid morning coffee break she would read a small column on page 4 about the woman being attacked).

There had been an earlier signal failure on the Northern Line and so the platform was heaving with already weary commuters. She only had a few stops to travel and was well used to being crammed into a metal box with what seemed to be most of London.

Unsurprisingly all the seats were taken and she managed to find herself a small pocket where she stood clinging onto the pole. As the train stopped at different stations more people clambered on, jostling for whatever position they could find. Within a few stops Sophie found herself sandwiched between the pole and a tall man.

The man’s groin rhythmically rubbed up against Sophie’s behind as the carriage gently rocked to its next destination.

Maybe the gentleman felt as awkward as she did. Perhaps he was just as uncomfortable but whilst Sophie tried to move he seemed to be in no rush to adjust his stance, leaving Sophie just to hope that was his phone rubbing up against her.

She would soon be at her stop and tried not to give it any thought but she did muse on what perhaps he might be thinking. Was he frozen in awkwardness, his mind reminding him that he is rubbing his cock up against a woman he doesn’t know yet offering no solution to stop that from happening.

Or was he getting a thrill out of it? Was his brain fantasising that he was in some sordid club. The pole that Sophie clung to morphing into one of those dancing poles for her to twerk and gyrate against. She was no longer a stranger just travelling to work but a dancer that was happy to dry hump him to orgasm. She supposed she’d know the answer to that if she found £20 slid in between the waistband of her skirt.

Eventually Sophie arrived at her destination and was relieved to be away from her claustrophobic surroundings and into the spacious air of outdoors. It was a brief walk to where she worked and she passed a number of coffee shops.

As part of her ‘extra time in bed’ routine she had swopped breakfast at home to popping in to the shop nearest to her office to grab something quickly to eat at her desk.

The building next to it was having some renovations and scaffolding adorned the Victorian exterior.

“Way-Hey! Love. You’re alright”

Sophie instinctively looked up stupidly thinking it might have been someone she knew. There she saw a man she didn’t know in a hard hat and hi-vis jacket looking down at her.

“You fancy a real man, sweetheart” he said before turning to his colleagues and laughing.

Whilst Sophie was old enough to realise fairy tales do not exist and romance as depicted in movies were unrealistic she was also experienced enough to know this was not the most seductive of pick up lines.

Once again she found herself confused as to her expected response. Did he think she would say “Well I was going to just get a bagel but hey throw down a ladder and I’ll come up and ride you”

The workman was now joined by his colleagues who chipped in with comments about Sophie’s appearance making it clear to express how that made them feel. She simply put her head down and went into the shop.

Having avoided any further amorous advances from workmen Sophie was able to sit peacefully at her desk. She finished the final remnants of her bagel while flicking through the pages of a report she had compiled in readiness for the Strategy Meeting today.

Sophie had spent the evening reviewing it and had purposely not started to watch that show on Netflix everyone was talking about. Had she done so her desire to binge watch as many episodes as she could would have meant she was ill prepared for the meeting. This was an important meeting and she wanted to ensure that she was fully ready.

The meeting room was large with a glass oval desk prominent in the centre. Random Art Deco paintings made the walls seem less sparse and at the far end was a large LCD screen.

All Heads of Division were attending this meeting, in total seven people made themselves comfortable around the table. Sophie, the only female in this group, took the available seat furthest from where her Boss stood at the screen.

He introduced the meeting trying to say as many random letters as he could with enough confidence that those present in the meeting would nod along like they understood – “KPI, GDPR etc”.

His talk, accompanied by a 100 slide PowerPoint presentation, was littered with talking points for the rest of the ensemble to muse over. Every time Sophie went to offer a comment someone else would interject and begin making the point she was about to say. The meeting lasted for two hours and within that time Sophie reckoned she had spoke for about two minutes of it.

The rest of the work day went quickly and soon it was time for her to leave and go home. Sophie planned on getting a take away, open a bottle of wine and binge watch that Netflix show.

As she was putting on her coat her phone chimed. It was a message from her friend seeing if she wanted to go for a quick drink. Sophie pondered this request. She had sold herself on the idea of a relaxing evening but then imagined the crush of the tube as everyone also rushed back for their few hours of downtime. She could do without being rubbed up against twice in a day.

It was settled. She would have a quick drink with her friend and get the tube home when it was little less busy and still have time to settle down and watch that show.

Sophie enjoyed the company of her friend and they shared a bottle of wine as the gossiped and laughed. They even got a bite to eat which meant Sophie would not require that takeaway after all. Just Netflix and wine it will be.

The bar was quite busy as was usual but everyone kept themselves to themselves. A few men looked over but none chose to insert themselves into the spare seats next to Sophie and her friend. They were just allowed to have fun chatting in their own little bubble.

Such was their enjoyment they could have easily made an evening of it but it was mid week and Sophie did not want to be getting the late tube home. So after a few hours in the company of her friend they kissed each other goodbye. Sophie watched her friend walk off in the opposite direction before she turned to walk to the tube station.

“Oi luv… show us your tits” said a man who must have been in his twenties sitting on a table outside smoking a cigarette; he laughed and high fived his friend in celebration.

Sophie ignored him and carried on walking to the station. She mused upon the curiosity of the question. We live in a digital age where if you feel the urge to look at breasts you can. In fact there are so many different types of breasts you could feast your eyes on.

Pictures of breasts, videos of breasts, gifs of breasts, even animated breasts. Never in the entirety of human history has being able to look at breasts been so accessible. So what was so special about Sophie’s breasts that demanded such immediate attention?

She didn’t think they were that special, they were just your normal breasts. Men had seen them before and whilst they seemed excited at the sight had never complimented her on them being ‘The Greatest Breasts Ever”. Sophie stopped thinking about this as she made her way inside the station and down on to the platform.

There was only a handful of people in the carriage. It was that midway point of the evening where either people had already gone home or were still out for the night. Sophie sat down in an empty row of seats.

After one stop a man got on and despite the availability of other seats sat directly opposite Sophie. He leaned back, spread his legs and just stared at her. Sophie looked away but curious as to whether he was still looking led her to glance back. Each time she did she was met by his piercing stare. Although it was only for a few seconds each time made her feel more uncomfortable.

She scanned the carriage to see who would be around to help her if this guy suddenly pounced. She spied a couple making out and an old lady concentrating on crocheting what looked liked a deformed panda. Whilst Sophie didn’t think they would be much use their presence still brought a slight wave of comfort that she was not alone.

She contemplated getting off at the next stop and changing carriages but this unexpected fear that had grown in her seemed to glue her to the seat. Besides she did not know if there were more weird staring men in the other carriages.

Sophie spent the rest of the journey with her eyes down staring at her lap, inwardly flinching when the carriage lurched or rocked. Normally the journey home would go quite quickly but each station seemed to take an age to reach as if the driver was going as slow as he possibly could.

Finally she saw the welcoming sign of her home station. Sophie waited until the doors opened before she left her seat and exited just in case the man wanted to follow her. She paused on the platform, looking back at the carriage to see if he emerged.

The relief that he hadn’t was quickly replaced by the realisation that she was the only one on the platform. Walking to the exit her heels echoed off the tiled floor. A feeling of dread followed her and often Sophie looked around to make sure that was the only thing that was following her.

Eventually she emerged into the nighttime air only a mile away from her home. Away from the the hustle of Central London the streets were quieter and Sophie’s experience on the tube alerted to the eerie quietness of the night. It was dark but the row of street lights provided ample illumination.

She began her normal walk home but was alerted by the scuffing of footsteps behind her. She put her hand her pocket and made a fist round her keys as she tried to up the pace. But the footsteps became louder and closer.

Could she run? She was about half a mile away from home and doubted she would get so far. Her legs felt heavy. Was it that man? Had he followed her? She looked everywhere but behind her hoping that some glimmer of salvation would appear but she was alone. The streets were empty. Just her and whoever it was approaching behind her.

She instinctively stopped. Fear not allowing her to take one more step. Should she scream? Her throat was dry , her legs felt like they were going to give away. The street silent, not even a passing car just the footsteps that moved upon her and….

Went straight past her. She took a deep breath and waited for a man in a long coat to disappear up the road. She cursed herself for being silly but that did nothing to dispel the feeling of dread that still surrounded her. She just wanted to get home, open the wine and watch Netflix.

Sophie noticed that she had stopped just by the entrance to the park which is where the recent attack had taken place. The relevance of her geographical position did nothing to calm her mood.

“ ‘ere darlin’ you gotta light”

Sophie hadn’t heard the car pull up along side her. A young man of know more than 19 years old dressed in a hoodie leaned out of the passenger window.

“No sorry. I don’t smoke” Sophie replied as politely as possible

“We’re going to a party. Wanna come?” the young man persisted.

“No… thank you” Sophie replied as she began walking but the car slowly followed her.

“Where’d ya live? We can drop you home?”

“It’s literally just up there. Thanks”

Sophie could feel her heart pounding. It was literally not up there and she had at least 10 minutes more to go before she could finally get home and relax. The car continued to slowly follow her route.

She thought about her options and concluded the only thing she could do is cut through the park. They would not be able to follow and there was a small gate just on the right hand side that she could go through. Normally she wouldn’t go through the park at night but equally she could not have these guys escort her home.

Just as she was about to turn and walk back to entrance to the park the young man shouted “Oh fuck you. You cold bitch” and the car wheel spinned off and out of sight.

Sophie’s heart was beating even faster now. With her hand shaking she pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. She selected her sister’s number and pressed dial.

She had been meaning to call her sister who was due to give birth shortly and a baby shower had been planned for this weekend. Sophie would welcome the sound of her sister’s voice to accompany her the rest of the way home.

She put in her earphones and listened to the sound of the ringtone as she turned the corner.

****

Trevor woke up late but that was by design. It was his day off. He reached for the remote control and turned the small TV on his bedroom.

The news bulletin reported another attack near the park but he didn’t care about that. There was a far more important issue to be discussed.

Some woman historian had been trashing statues and he was looking forward to his favourite morning TV presenter absolutely tearing her and her woke views apart.

He grabbed his phone, there was bound to be some silly leftie already supporting her on Twitter and he wanted to get in quick with a reply.

Opening the app there was slight disappointment that none on the women he had messaged last night had responded. No worries, he’ll try again later.

Trevor peeked under his bedsheet to look at what he had woken up with and was impressed. He thought about taken a quick pic but a rudimentary look around the room he noted there was no drinks can so chose not to bother.

Shame that one definitely would have got a response.

He turned his attention back to the TV screen where a reporter was still discussing the latest attack.

“Who cares!” shouted Trevor “Get to the bit about the statues”.

MetaWrite 6000 : I Meta Girl at the Gates of Hell : Part One

PREVIOUS LOG

“Wake up Selina”

Roused from her impromptu slumber Selina J opened her eyes and stared wearily at her smeared reflection in the grubby mirror opposite.

“What the?!” she exclaimed, leaning further towards the mirror whilst muttering such existential questions as ‘Who am I?’ followed by ‘What am I?’

The ‘who’ was clearly established in the very first sentence of this story – she is Selina J. Her second question however was not derived from any willingness to deeper understand her place in the universe, after all who does that the moment they wake up? Normally, the only meaningful question to be asked at that time is ‘Where is the coffee?’

Indeed, if there were to be any aspect of spirituality in her demand to know ‘who she was’ it would be for the very simple reason that as she stared into the mirror it became immediately apparent that she was dressed as a Nun.

Such a revelation led Selina to follow up with a less than philosophical statement when she declared ‘I’m a fucking Nun!’

That expletive laden observation should in itself be sufficient to indicate that Selina was far from Nun material. Indeed, very little about the way she had led her life would indicate she was destined for a higher calling. But as Selina was about to find out appearances can be deceiving and things are not always what they immediately seem.

Selina studied the mirror, its frame was constructed of cheap wood that was chipped and stained. A number of light-bulbs adorned the top, all haphazardly attached by wire stapled into the frame. The bulbs were of a variety of colours albeit some no longer performed the task they had been design for, instead they dangled forlornly like a pathetic Christmas decoration. Other lights refused to go the same way as their neighbours and flickered defiantly, prepared to see out the dying moments of illumination with at least some usefulness.

The mirror itself was dingy, a sheet of dust coated the reflective material. No attempt had been made to clean the mirror, instead someone had simply drawn the crude outline of a heart through the grime. The bottom corner was cracked which framed a lipstick mark still prominent below the gloom of the dust.

The desk upon which the mirror stood was equally of poor quality and rocked due to an uneven leg. It would have rocked more violently but a stack of what seemed to be 1980s porn magazines kept some semblance of balance.

A variety of cosmetics lay strewn across the desk; lipstick, mascara and perfume all jostled for position upon the surface. The chair upon which Selina sat was worn. The imitation leather was ripped to reveal the foam interior. As she looked around the rest of the room, which was nothing more than bare walls, Selina was certain she was not in a place of worship.

Indeed, if the dubious stains on the floor were anything to go by should people get on their knees in here it certainly wasn’t with the intention of praying.

“Selina hurry up will ya! They’re waiting”

She turned to see a rather rotund man leaning against the doorway. He wore a white short sleeved shirt unbuttoned to reveal a mass of tight curly grey hair interspersed with more darker strands.

His face was large and unkind; the full flabbiness of his skin slightly disguised by a beard. The hair on his head matched that on his chest, which clung damply to his forehead with sweat.

A lit cigarette rested between his yellowing teeth, although the smell of nicotine did little to disguise the stench of body odour that emanated from this stout gentleman. Patches of sweat were visible under his armpits.

“Waiting for what?” Selina asked, still searching for the answer to who she was, despite the clear number of clues in the preceding paragraphs.

The fat man laughed “They are waiting for you to read the Gospel of Luke to them” He took a long drag on his cigarette and blew smoke in her direction “What do you think they are fucking waiting for? Now get up and get out there!”

Selina stood up and glanced once more towards the mirror. What reflected back at her would provide the unambiguous answer as to who she was.

She was not wearing a long tunic that one would expect a Nun to wear for hers was a lot shorter. It was so short that one could quite clearly see the lacy black panties she wore. Her legs were not bare but instead decorated with glossy black stockings, the tops of which were clearly visible. Her attire was completed by a pair of high chunky black heels.

“I’m a fucking stripper!” she exclaimed.

The fat man smiled displaying all his yellow teeth “Yeh you are and you’re my best girl so get out there”

He playfully spanked her behind as he ushered her onto the stage. It was dark but Selina could hear the mutterings of anticipation from the assembled crowd.

Disguised by the darkness of the stage she instinctively knelt down and clasped her hands together. Despite her initial confusion as to who she was an internal narrative now compelled her. She knew who she was and what she had to do.

The spotlight switched on illuminating her for the crowd to see, they expressed their pleasure by loud cheers. Then the music started, some cheesy 1980s electro-pop as Selina gracefully rose to her feet and begun shimmying and shaking along to the beat.

The ensemble of eager men whooped and applauded as she made her way across the stage ensuring all at the front row got a decent look. These patrons were the important ones, they were in the ‘tipping seats’.

It was a relatively low turn out and a few of the ‘tipping seats’ were empty. It was a Wednesday afternoon and later that night ought to be busier with a lot of drunk and horny guys clambering for the front row.

Selina allowed the guys clutching the most money in their fist to get the best view; writhing and crawling on the stage to entice that money away from them. A number of them eagerly obliged and soon the money clip that was securely attached to her garter started to fill up with notes.

The guys cheered with delight as Selina threw off her Nun’s habit revealing her breasts, the nipples teasingly encased in tassels. She spun them around near the face of one patron who hypnotically parted with more of his money.

Selina looked out towards the back of the room where the bar was situated , a number of men stood ogling her while they supped on overpriced watered down beer.

Get to the front and pay you cheap bastards.

To the left in the shadows of the booths, where the lapdances were normally performed, she saw a guy who appeared desperately to be trying to avoid looking at her. It was odd behaviour for someone at a strip club…..you come to watch! But her concern was not with those who had no intention of tipping her and her attention returned to the front row as she performed a number of tantalising squats and thrusts, much to the howls of approval from those who watched.

She glanced down at her money clip, the tips had been good but not great. For the right price she would tear the tassels off along with her panties and give them a real show; that’s what made her such an attraction at the club. But not today, she may be many things but she certainly wasn’t cheap.

Sorry boys! Just tease. No show.

Selina did one final circuit of the tipping seats to remove the patrons from the last of their notes. However, they had become wise to the fact that they were not going to experience one of Selina’s Special Shows and clung onto their money for another time.

Her act concluded with a unenthusiastic if not athletic turn on the pole before finishing back on her knees just as the tinny pop beats finished. With the stage once again shrouded in darkness she made her way off.

The fat man grabbed her arm as she went past “Hey not to so fast. You’ve got a lap dance to perform”

Selina looked up at his sweaty face, she was not really in the mood and just wanted to return to the grubby sanctuary of her room “Can’t someone else do it?”

“They have asked specifically for you and paid for the full works!” the fat man replied

“But I’m not feeling that good to be honest” she pleaded.

The fat man tightened his grip on her arm and pulled her in closer. Selina could smell his rank odour. His chubby fingers ran down her leg towards the money clip, he purposely took his time. Selina felt bile form in the back of her throat as he clumsily pawed at her.

He ripped the clip off and begun counting the money “That’s your rent….That’s my commission” he said as he tucked the notes away into the pocket of his damp shirt “So I’m guessing if you want to be eating tonight you oughta go give that guy the full works”

She hated him. There was nothing more she’d rather do then choke him to death by shoving the money she earned down his fat throat. But she had no back up plan, there was nowhere else to go and so her only option was to follow his command.

“Fine” she sighed “Who is it?”

The fat man jerked a thick finger in the direction of the booths. It pointed at the strange guy who avoided looking at her during the show. Perhaps that was why he chose to look away, he knew he would be getting a private show all to himself and didn’t want to over excite himself before the main event.

She walked towards the booth ignoring the cries of some other patrons requesting she marry them. She reached the booth with the strange guy and introduced herself.

“Hey honey I hear you are after the full works” she said.

The guy did not respond nor did he attempt to make any eye contact but Selina persisted, her dinner depended on it.

“Awww don’t be shy sweetie let me help you relax a little” she said whilst straddling him. She hovered just above his groin as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“Pppplease stop” he whimpered.

“Sweetie relax” said Selina as she began to caress her breasts “You like?”

“No. No I don’t. Please stop.” came the unexpected response.

Selina persisted no-one had resisted her full works lap dance and this weird guy was not going to be the first “What’s your name, sugar?”

“Kevin and you really need to get off me and go” came the rather blunt response.

Selina shot a look towards the stage and saw the fat man peering out. She was expected to give this well paying patron a show and so she must. Otherwise she would not be indulging on Den’s Special Chicken Nuggets at the Diner across from the club.

She begun to grind a little harder. Normally such a move would be for a little later, if at all, but it seemed in everyone’s best interests if she got this over quickly.

“Please you have to stop!” pleaded the guy, becoming more and more agitated.

Feeling uncomfortable about the situation Selina leant in and asked “Why? Why do you want me to stop?”

During her illustrious career at the club Selina had been told many things by patrons. These ranged from how much they love their wife to apologies for the unexpected ejaculation. In all her years she thought she had seen and heard everything. Every comment and utterance of arousal made her more and more impervious to being shocked.

“If you do not stop then the Gates of Hell will open and we will all die”

Yep. She’d never heard that one before.

The Unerotica Of Selina IX : A Song Of Tyler & Bryce – Part Nine

“Why are you surprised?”

The final Snoflakian dove reached the D’Annimos. Strangely, they were not expecting such an invitation which was surprising given they are all about prophecy.

Nevertheless,with all the invitations sent, thoughts inevitably turned to the peace summit itself.

How would the families all react to the suggestion of peace? This ideal of living together in harmony, to work together for the prosperity of all inhabitants of Earthykinda. To create a world not defined by war and suffering but of understanding and respect.

Well, from what Bryce could work out they were all planning to use the Peace Summit to kill one another.

The Toonidunzas had a very straightforward plan – have sex with them, kill them, eat them and not necessarily always in that order.

The D’Annimos were just going to poison everyone and given that they are all prophetic they probably had an idea whether their plan was going to work or not.

The Bursteads were a little more devious and planned to rule the kingdoms not by obvious force but by stealth.

Their intention was to suggest that the families are united by marriage. With everyone effectively related there would be peace.

Bryce was unsure if this was a master stroke of diplomacy or if this was more to do with their preference for suitors. If everyone is technically related maybe nobody will care what the brother and sister got up to.

In any event, once married the intention was to kill everyone else anyway.

Despite calling for the Peace Summit the Snoflakians had a similar plan, although it was a little more subtle.

Like the Bursteads they wanted the families united by marriage but such a union would not immediately end in death.

The Snoflakians would use the weaknesses of their enemies to manipulate their strengths. They wanted peace but it had to be on their terms.

If the others refused to be compliant then that is when they would die. It was quite clear that even peace loving Snoflakians could be like a cunning Burstead when they had to.

Clearly, everyone had an ulterior motive for wishing to attend the peace summit.

Bryce left the world of Earthykinda to concentrate on some developments in her own life. She too was dealing with an unexpected invitation.

“Why are you surprised? You are my girlfriend after all”

Bryce blushed and lowered her head. She loved hearing Tyler refer to her as ‘his girlfriend’.

They had been dating for sometime but this invitation to the wedding would be the first time he would introduce her to his family and close friends…..and she’d be introduced as his girlfriend!

“It’s in a Hotel, so I thought we can stay there the evening. You know, so we could both have a drink”

“Separate rooms?” Bryce enquired.

“Well a lot of guests are staying” Tyler replied, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck “So….I could only get one room”

Bryce just nodded. It was understandable that it would be difficult as well as expensive to get two rooms. It was a long drive to the Hotel and neither of them would want to make that trip home late at night.

Yet in the back of her mind something troubled Bryce. Was Tyler expecting sex? That the potent cocktail of wedding romance and alcohol would be enough for Bryce to willingly give up her virginity?

Maybe Bryce would be happy to do so. That seeing how proudly he introduced her to his family would be confirmation that he is her one true love.

But what if she didn’t feel that way? Should she just agree to any sexual request, if nothing more out of gratitude for a lovely evening?

Of course Tyler may not be expecting that at all. His reasons may be genuine and honourable; he most likely would offer to sleep on the floor.

Bryce cursed herself for even thinking that Tyler may have less than gentlemanly intentions.

After all, not all invitations have an ulterior motive.

The Needy Mule Presents: Excerpts From – The Battle Of The Scribes : A Tale of the Variants

We don’t talk about The Time Of The Scribes anymore.

They are now simply a footnote in our chaotic history; that is if we were allowed to write footnotes or indeed write anything. After the War the written word became virtually obsolete in these lands.

In the beginning there was just one Scribe who would every week produce parchments for the town folk to enjoy. Scriptures to amuse, to educate, to thrill. The people loved the offering from The Scribe.

Soon, there would be more Scribes and now the people of the town had a choice. Inevitably, such a choice would lead to division and subsequently it would end…..Well you know what happened next.

These Scribes became revered, worshipped. Everyone wanted to own those sacred parchments; they became the very symbol of status.

Yet there never were enough to go round. Despite the number of Scribes the demand for these sought after parchments were too great.

Every week on an oak table the offerings of The Scribes were laid out and the huge crowd that had gathered would rush to ensure they were able to get one. Invariably, a large number of the town would leave empty handed.

It hadn’t always been that way. When the First Scribe produced the original parchment it was seen as something of a curiosity. The people were happy to share and enjoy these texts together.

No one knows how these parchments became to be held in such high regard but when that happened, everything changed.

It begun in the local tavern where many folk would discuss the virtue of the latest offering from The Scribes.

Some would be quite vocal in preferring one Scribe over the other. Others would talk for hours about how one particular parchment is the most sacred of them all.

Night after night these heated discussions would occur upsetting the once harmonious balance of the town.

The conversations that took place in the tavern would spread across the town and soon people were on the hunt for the special, prized parchment.

Some would protect their prized parchment by encasing it in impenetrable material. Despite the cries of protest that no one will ever again be able to enjoy the sacred text ever again more and more people began to do it.

Others took a different approach. There were those in the town who did not care too much for The Scribes’ parchments. They would use the status that came with owning one to become rich.

It started with the odd sale at the Tavern but soon this market to buy pre owned parchments grew. Therefore, each week on the day after The Scribes had left their parchments, the people would make their way down to The Bay.

At The Bay, food and other precious commodities were exchanged for ownership of a precious parchment. The people of the town desperate to outbid each other in an attempt to increase their own status.

Whilst some would sell their prized parchment because they were poor and needed to feed their family others were more nefarious.

After The Scribes had been, those wishing to sell their parchment at the highest price possible would go to the Tavern and spread rumours that this week’s offering were the most sacred there had been.

As word spread large crowds would gather at The Bay desperate to own it. This would guarantee the owner a high return.

Indeed, such was the reward that people would scoop up as many parchments as they could to sell at The Bay.

Some argued that they just wanted to read the parchments, like everyone had done in the beginning, but their voices could not be heard over those who clambered to own a parchment with the sole intention of selling it at the highest price possible.

Others aware of the demand for these parchments would horde them away at their home; sometimes waiting for the right price or for that inevitable rainy day.

Attempts were made to resolve this problem. A kindly old gentleman would copy the parchments so that those who missed out could enjoy the text.

Initially, they were seen as a lesser parchment but soon those who now controlled The Bay were suggesting that even those reproductions had value due to being even more scarce. Soon no one could read them without paying a high price.

This continued for many years and every week more people would be unable to read the Scribes’ sacred parchments as initially intended. All the while, those who controlled The Bay got more powerful.

And then The Scribes stopped delivering parchments……….