K this gets a little wrong towards the end so yeah(three in one day i'm on a roll)
Its not brillent but its been a shit day.
Suvari.
She had run hard but they had followed her even through the forest two of them had dismounted and tracked her through he wind trees. But here was a dead end no escape so she turned to face them the first died as he rounded the corner an arrow through his heart.
The second raised his shield and ran on.
They’d been following the girl since the village, she’d caused them real problems they needed all witnesses dead so none could testify to the council what they’d done. The country had been in disarray since the duke’s assassination. The cavalry had been raiding the village for supplies but a few of the men had wanted more than food. They had heard the scream. Jahred had raped one of the women, the villages men went beserk the fight was quick and bloody, the lost one man and slaughtered the village, all save the pretty girls. This young girl had not been among them, she had attacked from the rear her arrows taking down another two men. Many of the men had given chase, but others had stayed to enjoy the pleasures of war.
She dropped her bow and unslung her shield his blow glanced from the polished metal. With her free hand she drew a short sword. He looked at her the flowing blonde hair, the tight bodice, every inch a warrior. Their swords met, she felt the strength in his arm, he was no mercenary like the other men she’d fought he was a soldier.
He parried her thrust with his shield, but didn’t send one of his own he wanted he alive, wanted that body. He sent a wild cut at her shield edge, she moved to slowly and it was torn form her grasp. Her return cut clanged on his helmet blurring his vision, but she was his. He swung out with his shield catching her under the chin, she was sent sprawling over the floor; he picked up the unconscious girl and slung her over his shoulder.
She came to on the back of a horse he hands were bound and some one had removed her armour and weapons. Her jaw hurt and her breasts were sore. She felt violated. She looked about her many of the young women and some girls from her village were in a similar situation to her. Matha from the tavern was clutching her torn dress weeping, trying to cover her naked flesh.
He saw her stir and sit up in the saddle he drew his horse up along side, she looked at him with disgust and fear. He grinned the defiance was leaving her he would break her soon have her begging for his touch.
The soldier who’d captured her left her side, he sickened her but her heart felt for him he had not raped her, yet at least, and she was still alive perhaps they were to be servants.
They stopped that evening. He went and helped her dismount, taking care to avert his eyes when the cotton jerkin she wore slipped revealing her breast. He treated her tenderly all that night and offered her his blanket. She accepted and he slept next to her but not to close.
She found herself warming to him she was still panicked from the chase and the fight and his gentleness set her at ease. During the night she felt a stirring, the blanket lifted from her for a second then the warmth of another body pressed against hers.
He whispered of the wonders of love in her ear his hands straying over her body ripping the thin material. He pleasured himself on her that night she did not resist even when his manhood pressed against the entrance to her virgin womb.
She cried when he had left at the beauty, the brutality and the pain of what had happened to her. Over the next few days he visited her every night, he made her feel wanted and beautiful during the day, being so gentle and nice but like a whore when night came.
He knew he had a good thing a warm bed every night and a companion in the day he slipped into her blanket arousal already gripping him. He felt for her breasts for the warm flesh but his hands closed on steel. He moved back fear replacing his carnal desires.
The knife plunged into him, his felt the hilt, his knife she had used his knife…
The blood coursed over her hands, the warm liquid giving her a sense of joy, but it was dull by the disgust she felt for her self because of him. She cried her self to sleep that night lying in a pool of blood.
The net morning the body was discovered, the soldiers dragged her from the main group and they all had her way with her, she sobbed and cried as they abused her.
The last, a large bald man beat her as he raped her, and as he satisfied him self with her slid a knife over her throat. She died in a clearing in the wood bruised and bleeding.
Yeah, two posts today. Not a lot to say those who speak Welsh have an advantage, as you know what the title means.Rhywiol Dymuno
(Dros Hi)
She stood in the hall, the candles casting shadows over her face. She was the only person not dancing, not enjoying her self; except the young man across the room, who had been watching her since she entered.
She was beautiful not in the conventional cliched way, used off hand by to many, but a celestial radiance all of her own, created by a god for his enjoyment, a creature or purity. But still no one danced with her.
It seemed fate had set her aside for him; he gazed at her, the breasts barely caged by the corset of her dress, which fell below her ankles the light material hugging her figure. Her skin was smooth, unflawed, she wore no powder like many other women in the hall whose faceÂ’s and breasts bore lines of sweat though their powdered coat.
He was puzzled, she was stunning, but it was as if the other men couldn't see her. She puzzled him, she intrigued and excited him.
He closed his eyes; he could almost feel her next to him. The touch of her hand on his skin, the feel of her lips on his...
He awoke next morning; he smiled at the memory of the night before, he pulled her closer to him. She snuggled into the warmth of his body. Her skin was as soft as he imagined, the kiss just as tender, the passion just as fierce. She was his now, and he was never letting go.TJFNW
Ok this is going to sound weak but my goal recently has been to try and pin down what love is and how it should make you feel. Then i came to realise that like greif its a completly unique emotion to each person. This realisation though wasn't enough. It didn't explain how you know when your in love, then i found this. I did not write this but i corrected spelling, editted it slightly and i think it's perfect. ARE YOU IN LOVE?
SOMETHING TO PONDER UPON......
Q:-Are your palms sweaty is your heart racing and is your voice caught within your chest?
A:-It isn't love, it's like.
Q:-You cant't keep your eyes or hands off them, am i right?
A:-It isn't love, it's lust.
Q:-Are you proud, and eager to show them off?
A:-It isn't love, it's luck.
Q:-Do you want them because you know they are there?
A:-It isn't love, it's loneliness.
Q:-Are you there because it's what everyone wants?
A:-It isn't love, it's low confidence.
Q:-Are you there because they kissed you or held your hand?
A:-It isn't is love, its love confidence.
Q:-Do you stay for their confessions of love, because you dont want to hurt them?
A:-It isn't love, its pity.
Q:-Do you belong to them because their sight makes your heart skip a beat?
A:-It isnt love, its infactuation.
Q:-Do you pardon their faults because you care about them?
A:-It isnt love, it's friendship.
Q:-Do you tell them every day they are the only one you think of?
A:-It isn't love, its a lie.
Q:-Are you willing to give all of your favourite things for their sake?
A:-It isn't love, it's charity.
Non of these? Try this....
Q:-Does your heart ache and break when they are sad?
A:-Then it's love
Q:-Do you cry for their pain even when they're strong?
A:-Then it's love.
Q:-Do their eyes see your true heart, and touch your soul so deeply that it hurts?
A:-Then its love.
Q:-Do you stay because a blinding, incomprehensible mix of pain and relation pulls you close and holds you there?
A:-Then its love.
Q:-Are you attracted to others, but stay with them faithfully without regret?
A:-Then its love.
Q:-Do you accept their faults becuse they 're a part of who they are?
A:-Then its love.
Q:-Would you allow them to leave you, not becuse they want to because they have to?
A:-Then its love.
Q:-Would you give them your heart , your life, your death?
A:-Then its love.
Now, if love is painful, and tortures us so.
Why do we love ?
Why is it all we search for in life ?
This pain, this agony ?
Why is it all we long for ?
This torture, this powerful death of self ?
Why?....
The answer is so simple because it's ......LOVE
The bar was quiet only a few regular drinkers, sat at the bar cigarette in hand oblivious to the glances being thrown her way, as soon as he saw her he wanted her. The luscious body the soft skin, the pouting lips and the pert breasts. He couldn't see her eyes they were hidden in the shadows beneath her hair. Her cocktail dress was just slightly to low cut the top of her breasts were visible, the sight of the bare flesh stirring his carnal urges.
She took a drag of her cigarette the smoke easing up past her face, the other hand twirling a book of matches.
He sat on a stool on the other side of the bar, he lent forward and rested his elbows on the counter. Her long legs spread as she went to stand up stretching the material of the dress, he lent to the side slightly and could see into the dark between her legs. She walked past him, on her way to the bathroom. Her sent was amazing, sexual and basic.
Presently she came back, she looked across the bar at him and sent a wink his way. Her long fingers began to play with the rim of the glass, teasing him feeding his urge.
He had to do something, the sight of the tight material hugging her body was driving him wild. He went over, they began the intricate dance or flirting and small talk, she played with her hair and twirled the matches, he made crude innuendos and told useless anecdotes.The night drew on and the wine flowed, he invited her back to his she said she shouldn't, he insisted told her with the innocence of child how it was only for coffee and no woman should be out in her state. she still declined.They found her next morning, in an alley near to a bar they say, tied and gagged a torn cocktail dress clinging to her body, her underwear inside out.
Stroy 2 in the short stories:The air was thick with the rotten egg smell of the spent gun power the siege was ended and the army spread through the breach.
He dropped his musket and ran into the city, heart racing; but two short hours ago he’d been at camp preparing to head out, the elation he felt was tangible.
Shouts came from within the city as the city’s inhabitants defended their homes. He stopped in the middle of a street and looked round him. The night glowed orange with the flames from the burning defences; a plain wooden door caught his eye.
He walked up to it and tried the latch, it was locked. He took a step back and kicked at the lock, the door gave way. The house was dark, but by the light from the fires outside he could see the occupants had left, taking their valuables with them.
He stepped back into the street moved to another door and tried the latch. This one was open.
The house beyond was lit by lanterns that flickered in the draught from the open door. He moved through the lower level carefully, opening occasional draws and taking the coins he found.
He went to the stairs and drew his pistol and began to ascend.
A shot cracked and missed his head by inches, a young man at the head of the stairs, musket aimed down, a girl of about seventeen cowered behind him. The young man handed the musket to the girl and ducked as the pistol flared. He stepped up the stairs and swung a punch at the young man, it hit him square in the jaw. He watched as the young man fell to the floor then aimed a kick at his head. The sound of the impact was sickening; the girl began to sob and tried to crawl away but the only escape, the stairs, was blocked. More kicks, more cracks of impact and a pool of blood filled the landing.
The girl had crawled into the bed room and was sobbing in the wardrobe. He opened the door and pulled her out. She scrabbled at his hand on her wrist. Kicking, biting, screaming, with his free hand he ripped her dress off, so he could see her body.
Arousal gripped him and he threw her on the bed and dropped his breaches, she tried to crawl away but he held her firm.
He used his weight to hold her down as he raped he, she screamed and yelled, but was one in a thousand women.
When he was done he redressed, she was left on the bed covering her nakedness with her arms. He went into the hall picked up his pistol and reloaded it.
He returned to the bed room levelled the pistol and fired.
Back in the street the fires had died down, but new ones had started and new screams filled the night.
