“Wow.”
The voice broke her thoughts. She froze, hands hovering over the keys comically. She released her held breath, and attempted to appear nonchalant as she moved the mouse, clicked the minimize tab, and watched the document slip into the tool bar. “Don’t let me stop you,” Logan appeared at her side, leaning on the desk and watching her face, no doubt flushed at this point. She didn’t meet his gaze, her body still and her teeth ravishing her bottom lip. The silence so loud she thought she’d go deaf. She cleared her throat. “I was, um… experimenting with a scene… for an easy word count,” she was surprised at how calm her voice was, but when he leaned over her, casting his shadow over the keyboard, she felt her heart jump in her throat. He grabbed the mouse, his chest against the back of her neck, as he clicked the document. It bounced up, her words filling the screen. He hummed in thought while she held her head down, feeling the heat burn her cheeks like never before. Like she was naked in front of him. She felt his body heat rain down on her, making her feel like she was about to break out in a cold sweat. “When you said you wrote books, I didn’t know you meant this,” he mused. He sounded, unimpressed? She tried to stop her heart from thumping up her throat, to give herself a chance to speak. “It’s not even a first draft,” she said quickly. “It’s a-a vomit draft, just mindless ramblings… I-I never write this type of stuff,” she stumbled. “I can tell,” he interrupted, his voice bored. She stiffened as he scrolled up the document, to the previous scenes. She wanted to smack his hand off the mouse, push him away, and tell him to forget everything he saw…but she couldn’t bring herself to actually do it… because even though it was embarrassing, and heart wrenchingly painful… someone was actually looking at her work for once. And this time, she wasn’t asking them to. “It’s cute,” he stated, and she felt her nausea ease. “But, it’s not really realistic.” Her embarrassment lifted off her shoulders, just as she turned in her seat. “It’s fantasy,” she didn’t mean to snap. “It’s not supposed to be realistic,” she rolled her eyes defensively. “I don’t mean the mythical creatures, or even the shape shifting,” he leaned over her , placing his hands on each side of her chair. Suddenly the large, empty library felt as small as a closet. Logan took up most of her view, his hazel eyes bright between the locks of brunette hair. Her breath hitched for a moment, distracted by the invader of her personal space. His lips twitched at the corners, giving a lop-sided smile. “I meant the romance part,” he teased. “Have you ever made out with someone before?” She felt her eyebrows nearly jump off her forehead in shock. Was her descriptions really that juvenile? She snorted quickly, pushing him away, but his hands gripped firm to the arm rests. She stiffened, feeling trapped in a cage that was Logan’s stare, Logan’s scent, Logan’s body. She swallowed thickly, looking to the side and knowing that not just her face, but her ears and even her neck was flushed red. “Is that a no?” Logan’s voice was smooth. “It’s none of your business,” She felt how weak her words sounded. “I can help, ya’ know, for research… if you’d like,” he pressed his forehead against hers. His breath smelled of hot cinnamon gum. She felt her muscles shake, in anxiety or excitement, she didn’t know, and before she could complain, his lips were on her left cheek, trailing toward her mouth. She felt her skin almost blister where he touched, feeling her body suddenly tingly and strung. Her fingers twitched, as if she wanted to grab a hold of something…of him. She felt her mouth part slightly, a little gasp when his lips left the very edge of hers. He smiled less than a inch from her. “You mentally listing all the things I’m doing to your body?” His voice was rushed, his eyes wild, like he was winning a game. She wouldn’t let him win. “For research,” she challenged. He was on her in a second, his lips pressed into hers, his jaw working to open her mouth. She was taken back by it, not ready and slightly alarmed that his tongue already brushed against hers. The cinnamon taste burned. She closed her eyes tightly, hearing only her heart slamming against her ears. She tried to follow, failing as her tongue wasn’t nearly as experienced as his, and her mouth seemed to gap and flop around his that danced effortlessly. She twisted her hoodie sleeves in her fists, knowing she was hopelessly loosing. She hadn’t known that his hands left the arm rests until they were on her hips. She was suddenly terrified, her mouth going still as she thought he’d pin her there, but a moment later his bare hands slipped under her shirt on both sides and his fingers slithered up her sides. She unintentionally yelped against his mouth. He stopped, pulling away from her as she gasped for breath. The room swam around her, empty of everything that was Logan before. She crossed her arms, feeling small under his gaze, but so energized she felt she could run a marathon. He didn’t say anything until her breathing was normal, and she finally looked up at him. “I can’t believe you actually let me do that,” he didn’t sound playful anymore, his face twisted in confused pity. She almost glared at him, but she didn’t have enough time. A fist flashed into the corner of her vision, sinking into Logan’s cheek with a thud. He stumbled side ways, holding his head and giving a light groan. “Yeah,” Jessie sneered. “I can’t believe you did that either.” He sneered as he shook out his hand, "fuck man... your head is hard." Hips thin lips brushed his knuckles and then his wrist, before he turned to her, "what was that all about?" She didn't look up at his intense blue eyes, but instead found herself catching a glimpse at Logan as he nursed his jaw and stared defeated at the library carpet...
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I was cleaning up my files and found this little snippet from 2013... and realized, (as the character looks up at the night sky in story), that this was the ORIGINAL beginning of Pulled Under, which was my Camp NaNo Story from July 2016. This story has been playing with my head for so long, but I had no idea, HA! The fact that I was returning to a place I should call home was mind numbing. I could remember sitting in the back seat as a child while my mother drove down the highway, and I was staring up at the vast mountains like they were little volcanoes about to erupt. Constantly, the car would be up and down the rolling hills, giving me butterflies in my belly that I’d giggle over. My mother said it was my stomaching dropping out of my bottom and onto the road. Then we’d sway through the endless forests that shielded the sun and kept the summers cool. There were no rivers that I could remember, but I could recall the babbling brooks, some not a foot wide, that cracked the landscape and filled the Lake that was the center of our little town.
Town? Maybe that was not the best word… a village maybe? No that wasn’t right either. There was land, and water, people and homes…but I couldn’t remember much else, if at all anything of the place I came from. One moment the memories were clear, the next, cloudy with a chance of doubt. The gas nozzle clicked, breaking the night’s silence and me from my star-gazed thoughts as I hung it back up on the pump. The wind howled, forcing the cold fumes into my lungs so hard I had to cough, gaging on the taste of petrol. The scent alone burned my nose hairs and scratched the back of my throat. Quickly, I held what was left of my breath and hopped back into my green tracker, slamming the door before releasing my breath. The smell of gasoline wasn’t as bad inside my vehicle as it was outside of it. I checked my mirrors, a good habit, despite that fact that no one else was at this particular gas station at three thirty in the morning. Why would they be? I caught my reflection in the mirror, noting the dark circles under my tired brown eyes and the way my wavy brown hair was staring to get greasy pulled back in its clip. I shuffled in my spot; getting ready and comfortable for the end of my sixteen hour long drive. I pulled my seatbelt and clicked it in place. The crinkle of paper in my back pocket reminded me that it wasn’t in the best place it should be, especially because it was so important. Leaning to the side, I fished for the official document in the back of my jeans and pulled out the letter. A letter apparently from my great aunt’s attorney. An insignificant piece of paper, with the utmost important message, that had changed my modest life as a college graduate barely making it at a studio apartment, to a young woman who just inherited her dead great aunt’s estate and small fortune. Without looking at the letter, I stuffed it in the glove box. With a turn of my key, the only one I had, my tracker affectionately known as Misty rumbled to life. We eased out of the quiet gas station, and pulled away, as if we were never even there. I had an idea what the house looked like from a part of my childhood, but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure the house I was picturing was the one that was now mine. Where I was from, I couldn’t picture a building that wasn’t a house someone lived in; not a gas station, not a school, not a grocery store…maybe I came from a large private or gated community? But the letter didn’t say anything about a community. I was about the find out. “I know you can hear me…” “Quiet!” My father shouted, slamming the closet door closed. We stood in the darkness, my father, my mother, and I among the dusty coats and worn out shoes we never used. He locked the door. I clutched my stuffed dragon tightly. “But,” my mother held me close. “We didn’t say anything sweet heart,” she spoke softly. She was worried, as was I. She couldn’t hear the voice that pestered daddy all the time, making him pace and shout at the walls for hours on end. But the stranger couldn’t hear daddy. It could only hear Uncle Mark… at least, when Uncle Mark was alive. Daddy listened, Uncle Mark talked. Mommy and I stayed out of it. I didn’t like the voice either, so I always kept quiet. It never spoke to me anyway. “I bet you wish I could hear you…” the voice persisted. “To have a Whisp tell me what you have to say, my little Listener…” it sounded playful. “I bet you have a lot to tell me…” My father’s breath was ragged. Today was a bad day. The voice hadn’t let up since breakfast. Now it was past my bed time. “Do you know I’m in your house right now?” The floor creaked, as if to confirm the voice’s presence. “That I finally found you…” “Leave my home! You’re not welcomed!” My father’s voice was hoarse. If I could see his face in the dark, I knew he’d look panicked. I could only see the shadow of him, outlined by the sliver of light between the cracks of the door. He was a tall and broad shouldered man. I used to believe nothing could scare him… “Daddy…” I reached out for his shirt, grabbing it. “I’m afraid…” I could feel mother hold me tighter in support. She didn’t believe in the voice father protected us from. I heard them argue about it late at night when I was in bed. They thought I was asleep that night. It was one of too many. “Lawrence, please…” she begged. “Enough of this,” mother pushed me aside and my father’s shirt slipped from my grasp. I pressed my dragon to my chest. “Let us out of this closet-” “Come on out, Lawrence… I want to play.” “I CAN’T!” My father yelled, at the voice or my mother, I wasn’t sure. I felt my face get hot, the tears slipping over my cheeks. They were going to fight… I was sure of it. I couldn’t hold back my whine. I started to cry and pull on my dragon’s soft tail. “I’ve had enough of this, you’re scaring our daughter!” My mother barked. She used to be patient, but not anymore. “Get me out of this closet,” I heard her shuffle over the pile of shoes. “She’ll be good enough for me…” the voice chuckled. Something blocked the light from the cracks in the door. The voice was right outside! It was going to get mommy! We couldn’t let her out! “Mommy!” I cried hard, trying to get her attention. “No, Margaret-” my father blocked my mother from the door. “It’s not safe!” “This is ridiculous, Lawrence!” My eyes had adjusted to the dark as best they could. I saw the shadow of my mother shove my father. “I am tired of this, I can’t stand it anymore! Up all night and day shouting at the voices in your head, it’s exhausting!” “Come out, come out, I want to play…” “Margaret please, it’s not in my head, I swear it!” My father pleaded, but this was something he had said to her before. It wouldn’t change her mind now. “Don’t go out there!” “Mommy please,” I grabbed what I thought was her hand, and instead got her waist. I felt her grab my wrist in response, but her shadow didn’t turn to me. She pulled me towards her, and I almost tripped over my old winter boots. “I’m done Lawrence,” her voice was so final. “I’ve done what the doctors said, I’ve been supportive, but I’m done. I’m taking our daughter and going to my mothers.” The words fell like rocks in my gut. I didn’t want to go to grandma’s house… I didn’t want to leave daddy here alone with the voice again. I didn’t want our family to break a part. My father was only protecting us, and it wasn’t fair! The voice was separating us, and I didn’t want that to happen. We had only just gotten back together! “GO AWAY!” I screamed as loud as I could and hit the door with my dragon. “Lucy!” I felt my mother jump. She pulled my arm, “don’t scream like that-” “YOU’RE A BAD VOICE AND I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! LEAVE MY FAMILY ALONE!” Silence… if only for a moment. “Lucy…” my father breathed. “You… can hear…” “And she can speak,” the voice said with wonder. “A Listener and a Whisperer…” All was quiet, until something slammed against the door. “NO!” My father shouted. It felt like the whole house shook, and I fell to the ground from the force. Again, something was thrown at the door, so hard I could’ve sworn the whole house had shifted. My mother’s familiar hands found me and suddenly she too was on the ground, holding me, crying with me, as father braced his body against the closet door. “I can hear you little Listener…” another slam, and I hid behind my plush dragon. “I hear you Whisper, and I’m coming for you.” Ya'll don't know this, but I collect deer, like crazy! I don't know if this will work, (going to try and make my deer collection a public album on my Facebook), but here is a link to my collection.
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Welcome to my Blog Hey, I'm Maryah Stevens, a 25 year old, self-published, college graduate, married, 1st time mom! Phew! Archives
January 2018
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