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Mirabel Pink and Barnabas Blue (2) (posted on: 14-04-14)
A little more of my fishy fairy tale, in which we learn about their early years I know this needs some editing down and all suggestions and comments will be gratefully received

Chapter 2 Three years had passed. Three years when the Lady Meliflua had kept Mirabel close, caring for her in the huge undersea cavern, but now things had changed. Mirabel had become an inquisitive toddler, wanting to do the things her parents did, to swim as they did...and she had a new baby brother. The lordling Imperatus was just two days old, pale blue, perfect, with impressive gills and fins, everything a Mermador baby should be. Lord Impetuous surveyed his infant son proudly. ''You know I love Mirabel, don't you Melly? But here we have our heir, the child the people needed. I don't know how we have kept Mirabel secret for so long – maybe because she is as she is – few of our people come into the caverns. They prefer the freedom of the wide oceans. Now it is time to show Imperatus to our people, and to find Mirabel the environment she needs.'' Meliflua nodded, a little sadly: ''I know you're right, Impy'' Lord Impetuous lifted an impressive eyebrow ''Impetuous, sweetness – you should not call me Impy you know, someone might hear you'' ''I'm sorry - Impetuous. We must find a nursemaid, a teacher for Mirabel. I have arranged to interview some people later today'' Three hours later, and they had reached the end of a large queue of fairy folk – all anxious to care for the tiny Mirabel and all so wrong. Some had felt unable to cope with the lively, squirming child, some had been rejected by her parents, and some rejected by Mirabel herself. Her tiny screwed up face, shouts of NO and loud bawling made it quite clear which ones she disliked. ''It's no use my Lord, we will never find the right person'' Then, suddenly, with a brief knock, and a puff of turquoise smoke, a skinny fairy appeared, young and not much more than 20 cms tall, bright green eyes shining with enthusiasm.                                                      ''Am I too late?'' he panted ''Nicodemus Green, at your service'' He executed a low bow and waited expectantly. As you probably know, Royals are trained never to show surprise....but sometimes this is very difficult. Meliflua raised a delicate dark blue eyebrow and surveyed the dishevelled fairy. ''But you're MALE...I am looking for a nursemaid companion for my small daughter'' Nicodemus' eyes opened wide ''Surely that isn't a problem, highness. I assure you, I can do the job very well. I am an excellent companion, ask any of my friends, and as for being a nursemaid – surely a nurse-man can do the job just as well'' He gave the Royal couple a most disarming smile, and his bright green eyes flashed with what just might have been amusement. It was the tiny girl who made the final choice. She made a noise, part way between a chuckle, a gurgle and a giggle, maybe a churgle, toddled over to the bony angular fairy and stretched up chubby pink arms. ''Up'' she crowed, and ''Yes'' as Nicodemus swung her into the air. The matter was decided. Not so far away, a tired and distressed ex-princess Estrella sat with her back against a tall tree and sighed. For the past two years she had lived in a tiny hut, at the edge of the forest where she had once held court. She and Barnabas had lived on what they could grow and find. They had a goat for milk, a few chickens for eggs and a vegetable patch for everything else they ate. They ate a lot of cabbages and some things called potsnips, which are a cross between potatoes and parsnips. They were very healthy on this good food, but sometimes Ella, as she was now known, in her own mind at least, got very bored and longed for chocolate cake. ''Three years today Barnabas – today is your birthday'' Barnabas looked at his mother from intelligent blue eyes and said not a word. He was a bright little chap, understood and obeyed everything his mother said to him, but so far, he hadn't said a single thing. Ella had longed for him to talk – even 'Mama' and 'aardvark' – which were most babies' first words, would have been something. A little company, the sound of another voice; since even her own mother was forbidden to talk to her....strict Prince Bohdi had decreed it must be so.... She looked around her little house with a sigh, at least she still had a house near her beloved forest. At first Bohdi had wanted to banish her, but for some strange reason he had changed his mind. He had now remarried and produced three daughters, twins within a year, and ten months later, another little girl. He curled his thin lips as he looked down at the children, Bohdana, Bohdina and Bohdetta, who were squabbling and squirming on a patch of soft grass. They had inherited from both parents – bad-tempered and quarrelsome like their father, and pretty and extremely stupid like their mother – too stupid to find their own feet inside their shoes it was rumoured. Their mother, Princess Honeybot - which should have been Honeypot, but the dwarf registrar was a bit deaf and inclined to write what he thought he heard - was incredibly pretty and also very, very stupid, that was one of the reasons Prince Bohdi liked her. All she said were things like ''yes Bohdi, you're right Bohdi, and, of course Prince Bohdi'' Sometimes she even forgot he was her husband and she could call him by his royal title. The main problem was that she kept having girls, and Bohdi wanted a son, a proper silver son, to inherit his crown, and make sure his kingdom was safe from the other local pixie clans. He just hoped that the baby they were expecting was a boy. If she kept on popping them out at this rate, they were bound to have a boy eventually! Weren't they? At least Honeybot produced proper silver babies.
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Sam's house - part 3 (posted on: 28-03-14)
a story of sex, destruction, aliens, horror and bunny rabbits OK, I lied about the bunny rabbits the next part of Sam's house contains some explicit language

He forced himself to walk over to the well and began to pull up the bucket, using their make-shift pulley mechanism. The bucket felt heavier than usual. I'm probably weak from shock, Sam thought, that's what it will be. The bucket bounced up, bumping against the walls of the well as it rose. Sam took the small cup, that hung from his utility belt, and dipped it into the bucket. That's odd, he thought, what the hell is in here. He looked down into the bucket, and collapsed to his knees. He saw what looked like the top of a head, and the remains of a crushed can. Suddenly, Sam woke up. He felt like shit. He pressed on the crushed Budweiser can in his hand and then pressed himself up off the floor to have a look around the room. It was still dark, but the morning sun had already started illuminating the sky outside. Lilly was fast asleep in his bed, where she'd be for most of the weekend nights for the past year. Someday he'd make an honest woman out of her. Just not this month. How he got on the floor he couldn't imagine. And where were his pants? Sam stood, and walked towards Lilly, sitting his bare bottom down not far from her pink, pouting mouth. He slid under the covers next to her naked body. It was at that precise moment the voice returned in his head. "Help me," a girl's voice said simply. Sam clenched his eyes closed tightly. He shook his head. The voice was inside him, and not something he was hearing with his ears. "Help me," the voice said again, causing Sam to try to communicate back. With his tongue sticking partially out of his mouth and his brow furrowed, Sam gave it a shot. "Where are you?" he thought hard. But there was no answer. He gave up after thinking a simple, "Hello?" The welcome statement failed to generate a response either. Of course, he didn't really expect it to. What did he know about communicating this way. Sam turned in the bed, trying to get the girl's voice out of his head, and in doing so, met some resistance in the silk sheets. Puzzled, he lifted the sheet up to discover two things … first, he had an incredible ejection and second, a small hand was wrapped around his cock, beginning to stroke it. And it wasn't Lilly's. Sam channelled his vision and tracked the hand to an arm that disappeared somehow into his mattress. What was going on? he thought. Sam's eyes rolled back into his head as the stroking was causing quite the sensation. I'll … I'll need to check into this … he thought as he placed his hands where he normally placed them when being yanked off … on Lilly's perfectly shaped breasts. Yes, he felt the expected pull in his groin, the pull that he only got in that intensity from Lilly, but something was different. Lilly was breathing softly, her perfect, round, pink-tipped breasts rising and falling gently, but she was sound asleep, almost comatose. The insistent fingers around his still-swelling member were working hard….and he was breathless, but his scientist's brain fought to maintain control. He moved the sheet a little more. Curled, almost hidden under Lilly's long, firm, beautiful thigh, nestling in the cluster of soft brown curls was a tiny creature. It looked almost like an embryo, but it had two perfect limbs. One, a slender arm with a small hand, was the source of his exquisite pleasure. The other was dipped in the pitcher of water that Lilly always had at her bedside, sucking at the dregs of last night's water, neither a hand nor a foot, he had no doubt that it sucked. As he watched, the creature changed. It began to look a little more human, but at the same time it reminded him of the fairies in the books his sister used to read. Tiny and incredibly beautiful, it was almost a replica of Lilly but with these two incongruous addenda. His thoughts lost focus as the hand's pressure increased in intensity and speed, working his foreskin with incredible skill, even better than he did it himself. At the same time the sounds in his head changed in pitch. The voice no longer called for help. 'She' had what she needed and the sound changed to a low, keening moan. It was the sound of a woman, his woman, approaching orgasm. A throaty whisper murmured his name, over and over, ''Sam, my Sam'' and then came the sound that always drove him crazy ''mmmmmmmmmmmm….'' On and on as he felt the swell, the jerk, the unbelievable sensation as he began to pump, out of control. Thick, stringy jets of semen spurted from the end of his penis and the tiny, beautiful creature gave a shrill cry of triumph. The extra limb moved with lightning speed from the pitcher to the end of his jerking cock and began to slurp violently. It greedily captured every drop and then somehow inserted itself into him. He could feel the suction, feel his balls flatten like empty purses. But still it sucked. He looked at the tiny face, which was bigger than before, the perfect little mouth stretched in a malevolent, triumphant grin, revealing a row of tiny teeth, serrated like those of a saw. ''Fuck,'' he hissed as he lost consciousness.
Archived comments for Sam's house - part 3
pdemitchell on 30-03-2014
Sams house - part 3
Intense alien/horror/erotic writing but it needs editing and proper paragraphing - difficult to do in this format. Not my cup of bromide but oodling potential nonetheless.

Author's Reply:
It's not my usual style either, but I love to experiment

Thank you so much for your comments


Die For Victory (posted on: 28-03-14)
This is the beginning of the novel from which my extract "Marianne's Story" comes Comments are very welcome

Chapter 1 ''Marianne Lucy Jones, get back in this car – right now'' Marianne squared her narrow shoulders, lifted her head and turned; ''No father, I'm doing this on my own'' It was one thing for her dad to meet her from the station and bring her over the bridge, but she was determined to arrive at her billet on her own two feet. I'm going to be a Land Girl, she thought to herself as she left the market square and turned towards the Georgian mansion that she could see in the distance, its high walls marking the route she had to walk. I can do this. I can take care of myself. I'll show them. Marianne was a city girl, used to the clatter of the electric tram cars that took people around the busy city streets and suburbs alike. The cheap, noisy transport which, was available to all but the very poorest.  One penny per trip, that was the usual cost, and trams had taken Marianne around her native City for as long as she could remember. Now she was a couple of hours, and a million miles from the dirt and smoke of Liverpool. A million miles from the scenes of devastation from the May Blitz, from gaps, like broken teeth in an ill-kept mouth, in so many of the streets around the city 'It will all be over by Christmas' The mantra people had been chanting since 1939, three Christmases come and gone, and still no ending in sight. We were winning, of course we were winning, anything else was unthinkable and, now those bloody Yanks had come in at last, maybe this Christmas it really would be over. Marianne approached the massive gateway of the mansion, pressed into service as a military hospital and a billet for 'Land Girls' who would be working on the many farms of Snowdonia and Anglesey, that achingly beautiful corner of North Wales, beloved by the bards of nearby Llangollen. Such a very spitty language, Welsh, Marianne thought to herself as she walked along the quiet road, wishing, not for the first time, that she had decided to take the charabanc from the station and not let her dad pick her up. One had been resurrected from somewhere to take the new intake of Land Girls, here to help with the forthcoming harvest. At least then she would have had a chance to meet the other girls. Not much social life round here she was betting, not much in the way of male company - maybe a few yokels and a few crocks, if she was lucky. But then she hadn't had much social life at home. She never met any boys, only Bill. She thought about the dance halls in Liverpool she had not been allowed to visit. Other 17 year olds might have sneaked in, but not Marianne Jones...her family was far too respectable. Never mind, her parents were miles away now. She had responsibility for herself for the first time. Marianne became aware of the sound of feet and heavy breathing just behind her.
Archived comments for Die For Victory
QBall on 29-03-2014
Die For Victory
A good start and you put in several clues as to time and place. Needs a clean up on punctuation and spaces between paragraphs.
I don't see the need for a semi-colon in your opening paragraph - a comma will do.
It would draw me into your tale, well done.


Author's Reply:

Mikeverdi on 31-03-2014
Die For Victory
I have enjoyed the other posts, this is a good start. I am always told to go back after a week and read it again; you can always improve and remove.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thank you Mike, your comments are always positive, and appreciated, and I have edited positively in other pieces. I will do the same with the latest two, although I'm not sure that erotic horror is my genre ๐Ÿ™‚

Ellie


Sam's House - part 2 (posted on: 28-02-14)
The next bit of my first attempt at Sci-fi

None of this told him where the girls were however. There was just one place he hadn't looked. Sam made his way along the border of the '50', grinning at the memory of how those panties got there, until he came to the bunker. Sure enough he saw the very tips of a pair of sandalled feet. Sam approached with caution. The sight of sandals let alone feet wearing sandals, visible from behind the bunker, was a little worrying to say the least Did his wife have a pair of shoes like that he tried to remember - did Lilly? Cresting the hill in front of the bunker, Sam could tell that the feet, let alone the sandals, belonged to neither his wife, nor his Lilly. There, he thought it, his Lilly. Why did he think that? It happened one time ... so long ago. Suddenly the strange creature in the bunker sat up. He thought 'strange creature' because it was just that. It looked like a dog ... a shaggy dog ... with a woman's legs and feet, currently wearing those sandals. The dog-like creature was also wearing glasses and a watch, and it angled its head slightly to check the time. Sam must have let out a gasp, because the dog woman spun around and looked directly at him. It stood up, stumbled, then returned to all fours. Its red eyes seemed to project a light at Sam, freezing him in his tracks as it began to run towards him. "What the f..", he thought as the dog creature smashed into him like a locomotive. His head spinning and the world darkening, Sam conjured images of the kids, his wife, Lilly, and this dog ... merging in shape ... in the black ... in his mind. He could feel the dog creature's teeth press into his stomach, tearing his flesh and pulling out his insides. Screaming in horror, and batting away at the animal, Sam felt his feet collapse underneath him. He slammed into the hard ground and blacked out. When he awoke, he was relieved to see his middle section was still intact and unchewed. His organs were clearly still in place. Sam's gaze moved lower and he noticed his shoes were gone, as was the creature. Even more bizarre was the fact that his toe nails were now painted - black. He also realised that his son was beside him. "Daddy?" Jimmie whispered, though he might as well have screamed it as it scared the shit out of him. "It's okay, son," Sam calmly replied. Turning to face the boy, Sam stopped. Jimmie was holding a body part of sorts ... it looked just like a shaggy dog's front left leg. Blood ran down Jimmie's arm. "Daddy?" Jimmie repeated, as he shuddered into shock. Sam wrapped his arms around the small boy, cradling him against his chest, stroking the silky blonde hair and making meaningless, comforting crooning noises; Odd, he thought, as he rocked and stroked his small son, Jimmie feels somehow heavier, his hair coarser. He opened his eyes and screamed, a raw, gut-wrenching scream as he pushed 'Jimmie' away from him. The thing he had held in his arms resembled a puppy from the dog woman, its tongue protruding as it panted, and gambolled around him. Dangling from the corner of its mouth was what looked hideously like a small child's hand, the fingernails painted a livid purple….. Sam staggered to his feet, put his hand against the wall and puked. Wave after wave of livid green projectile vomit shot from his open mouth and onto the dusty earth, close to where the puppy had dropped the hand and where it now looked up expectantly – obviously waiting for Sam to throw it. Sam clutched his stomach…I'm going mad, I'm going fucking mad…that's what it is. None of this is happening. I'll go back home and everything will be normal. Lilly will be there, the kids will be there, my wife will be there. Oddly enough the last bothered him less than it should.
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Sam's House (posted on: 21-02-14)
Things are not always as they seem.... The beginnings of a science fiction novel ..... still playing with different genres

The children played in the yard outside Sam's house. The white paint on the picket fence was singed and peeling from the recent nuclear blast many miles away, many months ago. They knew not to cross the boundary known as the "West 50" but it didn't stop them from coming tantalizingly close. Many playthings were on the wrong side of the 50, Jimmie's soccer ball, Nat's Barbie, even an old pair of Lilly's panties. No one in the family knew how that could have happened. And if they did, they weren't saying. Sam was 90 feet underground, checking the cellar. It wouldn't be too many more days before another offensive would be launched. The whole town knew it. What was left of it, that is. The anniversary was coming up. Of course, he also knew his wife held the key to world peace. He thought she knew it too, but if she did, Lilly wasn't saying. Sam opened the bomb shelter's food supply and instead of 1265 cans nearly stacked, as they had been each of the past 178 nights, tonight there was a can missing. "Lilly!" he yelled, but she didn't come running. "Lilly!" The footfalls on the floor above stopped as Jimmie and Nat poked their head through the archway to the shelter. "Dad, did you say something?" Jimmie hollered. Sam walked up the stairs briskly. "I was looking for Lilly. Have you seen her?" he asked. "Nah," Nat said. "But the car's still here too." Sam scratched his head. "Okay," he said slowly. "How about your mother? Have you seen her?" The twins looked at each other and then at their dad. They shook their head. "No. No we haven't." Sam ran towards the garage, and thrust open the door. Both cars. "Odd," he thought, a pang of guilt with a side of panic starting to overcome him. Had he done the right thing, bringing Lilly home….he thought back to the day they found her, curled up in that tiny bunker just this side of the '50'. She had been trembling and unable to remember a thing, or even to speak. Jimmie had found her first, and had bent over her talking in his high pitched kid's voice…''Hello, what are you doing here? Where is your mommy?'' When Sam and Lilly had panted up behind him a few seconds later, towing a grizzling Nat behind them, she had uncurled herself, and was repeating ''Mommy, mommy'' in a voice that sounded just like Jimmie's. At first they had thought she was a little boy, and she looked to be about 10 years old, and their first thought had been to look for her family – but there was nobody else, just the expanse of yellowed grass, with the occasional patch of darker, more singed earth. Of course, they had to take her home with them, feed her, take care of her. It was what you did in these times. You help where you can. At first she hadn't seemed to know anything at all, how to talk, how to walk, or how to keep herself clean. She attached herself firmly to Lilly, and in the days that followed she began to eat and drink – vast amounts of water it seemed – worrying amounts, since they didn't know quite how much their well would keep producing. As she drank, she almost seemed to grow before their eyes, and they wondered how they could ever have mistaken her for a little boy. It had been hard to talk to her at first, it was like she had no idea what they were saying, her large, almost luminous grey eyes held little understanding, but as the days went by she talked – a few words at a time. She had no idea of her name, she insisted on being called 'Lilly' wouldn't answer to anything else and it was easier just to go with it. She had grown really fast, and now she looked like a young woman. She looked just like his Lilly from the back – it was uncanny.
Archived comments for Sam's House
ruadh on 21-02-2014
Sams House
There's enough in this short piece to make me curious. Looking forward to seeing it unfold.


Author's Reply:
Thank you for that ruadh
It's different from the stuff I usually write, but I'm having fun with it
Ellie

e-griff on 24-02-2014
Sams House
Yes, good start! ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Thank you Griff - words of encouragement mean a lot

Mikeverdi on 24-02-2014
Sams House
Yes it's well worth the effort, I too would read more.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thank you so much, Mike - more forthcoming asap
Ellie


Marianne's Story (posted on: 31-01-14)
I've edited this a bit, cut out some meanderings. I hope it reads a bit better - still more to do. This is part of a novel I have been working on for a while. The year is 1942 It is the story of Marianne Jones, aged 19, a sheltered, middle-class girl from the city. She leaves home for the first time to join the 'Land girls' growing food to help the war effort. She meets Penny, a girl of the same age, from the same city, but from a very different background. They arrive at their billet, to find themselves faced with murder. The 'Bea' mentioned is Marianne's sister. This extract tells a bit about Marianne, and has some 'adult' content. I think it contrasts completely with my first submission. I apologise that it is a bit rough around the edges. All comments gratefully received

Marianne's Story Marianne sat alone in her tiny bedroom. Penny was off somewhere, rounding up people to help with costumes, eager to make up for the time she had lost while she was sick. Marianne was thinking about Bill. She had been doing that quite a lot lately. Dearest Bill, who had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember. . Bill and Marianne had gravitated towards each other from the time they first met, as small children. They had played ball and hopscotch, and fallen off their bikes together. Later, they had shared a first kiss, bumping noses and giggling. Just one year separated them, he was the same age as Bea, but it was always Bill and Marianne who played together. Bea joined in sometimes, but she much preferred her books. Bill's was the first, and so far the only penis Marianne had seen. Marianne smiled to herself, remembering when she first found out about 'it' one wet Friday, in the drying room at school. The room where wet P.E. Kits were put to dry, after the hockey lessons, that went on even if it rained. Her mum's idea of sex education had been to give her a packet of sanitary towels and an elastic belt with hooks just after her 13th birthday, explain a little about periods, and inform her that periods were what would make her 'a woman' and that one day, when she was married, she would lie down with her husband, something wonderful would happen, and she would, if she was lucky, she would have her own little baby. Marianne, who understood her scatty mother pretty well, realised by her mum's red face, that this was not a good time to ask more questions. The drying room was the place where the girls who smoked went for a sneaky cigarette went, while the girls who didn't, kept watch for prowling teachers. On this particular Friday, a group of girls in the year above Marianne were clustered around Megan Wilde. Wilde by name, Wilde by nature a lot of people said: '' 'ey, listen girls....I done it'' lots of ears pricked up, and the admiring group stared expectantly at Megan. Megan was a short, rather stout young lady, who was a natural leader. The sort of girl the others looked to for information of all kinds. ''What do you mean, Megs, done what?'' This question from Libby Graham, who was in Marianne's year ''You know....'it''' There were nods from some of the girls who liked to think they knew everything. ''I went to the Dutch Club on Princes Avenue. You're supposed to be 18, but my mate has a Dutch auntie, she took us in. Well, I met this Dutch sailor, and he asked us to dance, 25 'e was, called Wim an' dead fit. After we'd been dancing a while, he asked me to go outside with 'im. I knew what that meant'' A dozen pairs of wide, expectant eyes fixed on Megan. ''What do yer mean Megs, what did it mean?'' said her best mate, Sue Browning ''Well, he wanted to show me his thing'' A gasp went around the small, steamy, rather smelly drying room. Marianne felt herself blush, although she wasn't quite sure what a 'thing' was, and even less sure why it was a bit shocking. She only knew that it was. Beryl Wilde, Megan's cousin, asked what a few of the others daren't. "What's 'is 'thing'?" '' 'is dick, you lemon'' You could have heard a pin drop. ''What happened?'' asked Beryl ''Well, 'e unbuttoned 'is kecks, and took it out. All red and 'ard it was, and 'e made me touch it. Then he kissed me, and shoved 'is hand down me knickers. Marianne didn't follow any of this, but, in spite of herself, felt a slight shiver run down her spine. There was a chorus of: ''Bloody Hell, what did you do?'' ''Well, I rubbed it a bit, and 'e started to moan and grunt. Then 'e pulled me knickers down, and shoved it into me. Christ, it didn't half hurt. Then he started to move it in and out of me, shoving and grunting, and in a minute or two, his knees kind of buckled, and all this stuff came out of his dick. It ran down me legs an' all, and wrecked me best knickers." The other girls just looked in amazement. ''Aren't you scared you'll get up the duff?'' This from a wide-eyed Beryl. ''I am a bit'' admitted Megan... ''but everyone knows you can't, not the first time'' Nods of agreement went around the room. Marianne was still puzzled, but she knew who she could ask....Bill. He'd know what they were talking about, she was sure. Later that night, she and Bill went for a walk in Sefton Park. They often did this on fine evenings, taking a seat in the tennis pavilion if it was warm enough; sometimes having a little kiss and a cuddle. ''Bill, what's a boy's dick?'' Marianne looked questioningly at Bill. His face flamed, his pleasant features a little distorted. ''Who's been talking to you about dicks?'' ''Oh Megan Wilde in school, she was telling us about doing something with a Dutch sailor'' Bill stared at her in open-mouthed astonishment. ''I thought St Hilda's was a posh school, not full of that sort of talk'' ''Oh don't talk soft. What do you mean?'' ''If I tell you, you can't tell your mum...she'd go mad'' ''Of course I won't....just tell me'' ''Well, you know when you go for a wee? You know boys and girls are different, right?'' Marianne had no brothers, or male cousins, so she had no Idea what he was talking about, and told him in no uncertain terms. It wasn't anything she had given any thought to. ''How are they different Bill? Will you show me?'' Bill's face flamed again. ''I can't do that Mari, it wouldn't be right'' ''Why not, you daft thing? It's only me. Go on, show me.'' Marianne started to tickle Bill and he squirmed, uncomfortably. ''I'll just have to ask my mum or my dad then, if you're so mean'' ''Don't do that'' Bill looked shocked at the very idea. ''I'll have to, if you won't show me. I'll look like such a fool if the girls start to talk about it again'' ''Promise you won't scream, or laugh'' ''Why would I do that? I'm just curious'' Bill had looked down at his lap, and slowly started to unbutton his school trousers. In spite of her promise, Marianne couldn't help but gasp. This big, purplish thing sat, like an alien, in Bill's hand. ''What the heck is that? How can you walk with THAT in your pants?'' Bill looked even more uncomfortable ''It's not always this big. It's just talking to you about it. It made me kind of excited like'' ''What do you mean 'excited'? Patiently, for a young man in this embarrassing situation, Bill explained as best he could. All the time Marianne stared at this entity in Bill's hand. She wasn't quite sure why, but looking at her made her shiver. ''Can I touch it?'' Bill stared at her. ''Are you sure you want to?'' ''Oh yes'' Marianne stretched out a timid hand, using two unsteady fingers to touch this strange thing, which was a part, yet not quite a part of Bill. It was almost as if he had brought some strange, exotic pet for her approval. Like a pet would, it jerked slightly as she touched it. It was hot, incredibly smooth and yet really hard...and as she watched, it grew bigger and harder. She withdrew her hand rather quickly. ''Is it supposed to do that?'' Bill shoved the thing back in his pants, as though he were putting it back in its cage. ''That's enough Mari, I've done what you asked. Now let that be an end to it'' ''but Bill.....'' ''No buts, I said that's enough. A bloke can only take so much'' Marianne felt a little twinge of disappointment, but she knew Bill well enough to know when he meant what he said. Marianne smiled to herself, remembering how very na๏ve she had been. She had never seen a man like that since, but she now knew why she should never have asked. Now her thoughts were so firmly with Bill, they moved on a few months, to the start of the war. How he had tried to join up and been turned away, because he was too young. Liverpool being the major port that is was, he had done what seemed to him the natural thing. He joined the Merchant Navy. Marianne had been visiting Mrs Leggatt, Bill's mum, on that day, early in 1942, when the telegram came, saying that Bill's ship was missing, had cried with the tiny woman, and then agreed with her when she said she knew her boy wasn't dead...She would know if he was. All this was part of the reason that Marianne had decided to join the Land Girls, the need to get away from the reminders of Bill and perhaps to get away from Mrs Leggatt. Maybe it was a bit cowardly to run away from the tiny woman, but her grief was palpable – too painful to bear. Saturday night was bath night for Penny and Marianne. Water shortages meant that they could only have one bath a week and even then, they were only allowed 5 inches of water. Somebody had painted a line on the bath to show exactly how much they were allowed to have. How little would be more accurate, 5 inches is a pitiable depth of water. A rather smudgy dotted line, in a horrible sludgy-brown paint, had been painted along part of the back of the bath. Woe betide anyone who was thought to have exceeded their share. The twenty girls billeted at the house had drawn lots to see who got which night, and the two friends had been lucky to get the same night, along with Sally and they were now sitting waiting to be told that she had finished, while sitting on Penny's bed in semi-companionable silence. Only semi, mind you, because Marianne was obviously buzzing about something; ''Pen'' Marianne stretched the word so that it became two syllables and a question at the same time. Penny stiffened slightly and became just a bit wary. Mari didn't often go into probing mode, but when she did....look out world. You just never knew what was coming..... ''You had boyfriends, back at home, didn't you?'' ''Yeees, I s'pose so, why'' ''Did you ever.......do IT'' ''What do yer mean Mari?'' ''You know, IT...I mean do you know much about s..e..x?'' ''It depends what you mean'' ''Well, did you ever see a boy naked?'' ''Mari, I've got four brothers, of course I've seen a boy naked'' ''Oh Pen, you know what I mean – with his 'thing' all stiff and purple'' Penny glanced down into her lap.... ''Well, that's back to my eldest brother then'' Marianne recoiled as though Penny had struck her... ''You don't mean...........?'' ''When I was 12 and he was 15...he'd been out to the pub for the first time. He'd waited outside while some older lads brought him out a few jars. He was a bit drunk, and thought he was cock of the walk. I was 'andy, and he decided 'e'd like to give it a try. You'd be surprised 'ow common it is in the tennies. Some girls I know 'ave 'ad babbies to their dad's and their brothers. Sometimes it's six to a bed round there. They aren't always that fussy where they stick it'' Penny's matter-of-fact tone was contradicted by her crimson face. ''Oh Pen, I'm so sorry, what happened?'' Me dad came home, a bit drunk 'imself, grabbed Tony by the scruff of 'is neck, dragged 'im off me, beat 'im near senseless. The next morning, dad took 'im to the landing stage and got 'im on a merchant ship...I don't know 'ow. I've not clapped eyes on 'im since, and we never talk about 'im'' There was an embarrassed silence, neither girl knowing quite what to say. There was a sudden sharp knock on the door, and Sally's shrill soprano yelled through the door ''OK girls, I'm done...next'' You go next Pen'' ''No luv, you go next, I'll just sit for a bit, take as long as you like'' Marianne grabbed her sponge bag and rushed thankfully out of the room. She had intended to ask Penny about the strange feelings she had been having when she was near to Austin, but she knew that now was not the time to ask. She walked into the bathroom, which was damp and steamy, condensation running down the green and cream painted walls. As usual, Sally hadn't cleaned the bath properly and a greasy scum clung to the sides of the bath in patches, where she had been in too much hurry. That was Sal, full of good intentions, but a bit slap-dash. As she shook scouring powder onto the cloth, and rubbed the pitted surface of the bath, Marianne felt a strange curiosity about her own body, something she never remembered feeling before. She'd washed and cleaned it, fed it, put ointment on sores – but never really looked at it, or even thought about it, since the day just before she was 14, when her periods had started and her breasts had really started to blossom. Before that, they had been more-or-less flat, with a ring of harder tissue around her tiny pink nipples. Once they had started to develop, she thought they might forget to stop. Bouncy orbs, tipped with rather long, pink nipples, like miniature hat pegs Bea had said, when they compared shape and size. Just lately though, it had produced the most odd sensations. Not painful, like the muscle aches she'd had when she first started working on the farm. No, not painful – rather pleasant in fact. A tingle in her nipples, which seemed to flow to her most personal parts. She ran her regulation five inches of water, just touching the bottom of the uneven lines, shook in a few of the rose-scented bath crystals that Bea had given her for Christmas, and lowered herself into the water, lying back and enjoying the sensation of the warm, perfumed water on her skin. Tentatively she touched her right breast, surprised at how good it felt. She ran the tip of her finger around her nipple, which stood to attention as she stroked. The feeling once more transferred itself to what her granny used to call her 'lady parts'. Marianne looked down at her body, at her long, smooth torso, with its surprisingly large breasts, down her flat stomach to the little cluster of brown curls at the base of her belly. The crown to the parts that tingled when she stroked her breast – or when she stood close to Austin. Feeling almost guilty, she wasn't sure why, she touched the lips of her labia, parting her knees as far as the bath tub allowed. She almost gasped aloud as a small electric charge shook her, astonishing her with its intensity. Something she hadn't even known she possessed rose slightly from the pink, folded lips. A small, round nub, which felt exquisite when she touched it. Slowly she started to rub it, almost instinctively, while still caressing her own breast. Oh my goodness, she thought. Was this normal? Did everybody have one of these, and if they did, why had nobody told her? She rubbed a little faster, feeling waves of pure pleasure explode through her body. After a few moments, she began to tremble, she was sure that, if she didn't stop, she was going to faint. Reluctantly, she stopped.
Archived comments for Marianne's Story
Mikeverdi on 04-02-2014
Mariannes Story
Your right, this is a bit different. I would say it's fine and I would read more. All writing is better after editing and I would guess this is no exception. It's difficult to see where this one is going at this stage. I would go back and see if you can take out any superfluous words etc. or you will take too long to reach a climax ๐Ÿ™‚ if you will excuse the pun. Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks for that Mike. This is part of a full length novel, and is background, telling about the characters, rather than moving the story along. I'm sure, as I go back to edit, some of it will go.

I'm very grateful for help from more experienced writers

Buschell on 08-02-2014
Mariannes Story
I'm trying to write a novel Ellie. I find that at times I am overwriting some bits and there is just too much fluff. That perhaps at the back of my mind I am thinking, "This is a novel, I need to write 80,000 words for it to qualify". You will edit a few times and lots of that is simply losing large swathes of unecessary words. Also don't get too attached to what you think is nice prose. I do, did and cost me time and readability in the end. Most of all have fun Ellie, not easy sometimes but very important. Dazza.

Author's Reply:
Thank you for that Dazza, it's really good to get comments from people who are facing the same struggles, sometimes uphill, for me anyway.
I love to write, trying different genres, but sometimes it's like butting a brick wall and hard to know what is good, what is mediocre, and what just plain stinks.
Good luck with your writing too
Ellie

I cut off few bits - it's a start...
Ellie

Buschell on 08-02-2014
Mariannes Story
I'm trying to write a novel Ellie. I find that at times I am overwriting some bits and there is just too much fluff. That perhaps at the back of my mind I am thinking, "This is a novel, I need to write 80,000 words for it to qualify". You will edit a few times and lots of that is simply losing large swathes of unecessary words. Also don't get too attached to what you think is nice prose. I do, did and cost me time and readability in the end. Most of all have fun Ellie, not easy sometimes but very important. Dazza.

Author's Reply:


Mirabel Pink and Barnabas Blue (posted on: 27-01-14)
A tale of fantasy, on land and sea. A first attempt

                                                         Mirabel Pink and Barnabas Blue It was mid-summer's day, one of the most special, magical days of the year. In the depths of the ocean, in a deep cavern which was part of his watery kingdom, Lord Impetuous Ajoor scratched his pale blue gill and sighed: he was undisputed ruler of the Mermador people, but today was not turning out to be as good as he had hoped. He floated gracefully in the water, looking fondly at his wife, who rested on a deep shelf in the cavern side. ''It was bound to happen sometime I suppose. If only grandfather had not fallen in love with that blasted ELF'' ''Language Impy'' This last comment comment came from a dainty, Mermador lady, lying on a bed made from a large scallop shell, which was padded with the finest, softest seaweed. This was the Lady Meliflua Ajoor, wife to Lord Impetuous, and the only one who would dare to call him Impy – and even that only in absolute private. ''You have to admit, she's very pretty'' Meliflua looked down fondly at her newly-born daughter, plump, pink and dimpled and resting in her mother's delicate arms. ''Pretty, maybe – but not like one of us. Our first child, and she's pink! To make things worse, she has no fins to speak of, and only the tiniest gills. She can't live as we do. She would die in a couple of hours if she tried to live under the sea'' Meliflua hugged her tiny daughter close to her delicate blue chest and sighed. For those of you who have never heard of the Mermador people, and I suppose there must be some, let me tell you a little about them. Maybe half way between humans and merpeople they are an ancient and noble race. They live under the sea, but they do not have tails. They have long, feathery fins along the outside each leg, and swim like merfolk, with their legs together. With feathery fins moving in the water, they not only look beautiful, they are very fast – darting and twisting almost faster than a human eye can see. Their faces are like humans, except that they have large gills in their neck, to allow them to breathe in their watery home. They also have small, under-developed lungs, so they can breathe air and live outside the water for a short time. Oh yes – and they are a pretty, shimmery, pale blue colour. The problem baby twisted in her mother's arms and gurgled, waving chubby pink arms in the air. A short distance away, as the cormarow flies, another baby was making his appearance in the world, and another father was less than impressed. ''Blue, Estrella, he's BLUE'' The speaker was Prince Bohdi Argent, leader of the local pixie clan. Now if you thought that pixies are sweet, tiny little things, let me tell you about Prince Bohdi's clan. Forest dwellers, they are tall                                                      for pixies – some of them as much as half a metre tall. They look a lot like other pixie folk, pointed ears, sharp darting eyes, which are slightly up-turned at the corner and a lot of the adult males like to sport a rakish little pointed beard. They are pretty proud of their facial hair- apart from dwarves, who can hardly be counted, they are the only fairy folk who have it. Oh and they are silver! Yes silver: have you ever seen mercury? Their skin looks a bit like that! Not bright silver, but darker and with a shimmery sheen. It can be quite unnerving I can tell you, especially when there are a few of them together. Prince Bohdi looked at his son, and then at his wife: ''I thought you were pure-bred!'' Estrella trembled, and, in a tiny voice, replied: ''There was a story in our family that my ever so many times great grandmother married a … Mirmador. I thought it was just a story'' ''You THOUGHT, YOU THOUGHT'' Bohdi's voice shimmered with rage: ''Look at him.....he's BLUE, and what are those things behind his ears? Are they GILLS?'' Estrella looked at her beautiful, tiny son and nodded. He was perfect, pointed ears, tip-tilted eyes, very pale blue, with tiny, but unmistakeable gills. Bohdi drew himself up to his full, magnificent height of 52.2 cm (the point two was very important to him) and roared ''Take yourself and that thing, and take him from my sight – I won't see either of you again'' Back in the cavern Impetuous and Meliflua examined their tiny daughter, perfect and beautiful with her wide blue-green eyes and her dimpled body. A sparse row of fins down each leg and her webbed toes, her tiny gills, all revealed her Mermador origins, but her curling pale pink hair and her pink skin, with a slight silvery sheen were oh so wrong. ''She can't inherit you know Melly, the people would not allow it, and she can't live here with us. We must build a house, close to the shore, protected by invisibility charms to keep her safe. We must get her a nursemaid, maybe a young elf, to protect her and care for her. We can visit her, and she can visit us, but we can never live together – it wouldn't work for any of us'' They looked at their tiny daughter. ''She must have a name, and since she cannot be called Ajoor – that name is reserved for the royal line – you must name her Melly'' Meliflua looked down and smiled ''I know just the name for her – we will call her Mirabel Pink Impetuous nodded his approval. In the forest Estrella looked at her husband – her ex-husband now, she supposed ''He must have a name Bohdi'' Prince Bohdi curled his lip, causing his little moustache to twitch ''He has nothing to do with me – call him what you like'' Estrella looked down and smiled at her sleeping son ''I shall call him Barnabas Blue''
Archived comments for Mirabel Pink and Barnabas Blue
Mikeverdi on 27-01-2014
Mirabel Pink and Barnabas Blue
Well that was different! I liked the story, I assume its just a part of a longer one, and presume for a younger audience than my 67 years ๐Ÿ™‚ It was well laid out, and thank you for posting a manageable section. I would change the word 'which' for 'that' in the first section ...but its just me ๐Ÿ™‚ I'm sure you will post more of this,and look forwards to seeing where it goes. Welcome to UKA. Mike

Author's Reply:
Thank you for that Mike, yes, it's part of my first attempt at a book for children, and there is a lot more of it.
It's good to get some feedback - and you're never too old or too young for a story ๐Ÿ™‚

By the way, I chose 'which' because it's a non-restrictive clause, but I value your comment ๐Ÿ˜›

Andrea on 28-01-2014
Mirabel Pink and Barnabas Blue
Sorry to disagree with Mike, but I think 'which' is absolutely correct ๐Ÿ™‚

Mirabel Pink - lovely! Nicely laid-out for easy reading, too.

Much enjoyed your tale and welcome to UKA.

Author's Reply:
Thank you so much for that Andrea, it's so good to get feedback. I'm really glad I found UKA, it's helpful to read other people's work too.

A splendid site.