Angelus's Vampire Journal

Angelus's Journal

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3 entries this month

← Apr 2012

Jun 2012 →

The Green Fight back
02:28 May 07 2012
Times Read: 805

The small star-fighter entered the atmosphere surrounding the small planetoid, it’s power lower, it’s body showing signs of the damage it had suffered in the battle, for minerals rights on the outer fringe; that the Tellux Corporation had fought it’s greatest rival McColl’s Exploration had fought with for over thirty years.

It’d become standard practice to be hooked up to life-support during a battle, so as to conserve the pilot’s suit power and now, with the starcraft’s canopy damaged it’s pilot had to find safety from the firefight, soon.

When she found the unnamed small green-blue planetoid, Cyan Lawder felt she was safe from the firefight.

With the small crafts power reserve as low as it was, the starfighters shield were low and, as Cyan began planetfall she looked at the read-out on her visor screen: Ten to twenty per cent less than she had now and, the hulls integrity would be lost.

With sweat dripping from her forehead, Cyan pulled back on the joystick, in an effort to pull hard on the joystick, in an effort to pull up the crafts nose, somewhat.

Yet, she was still entering the atmosphere fast, too fast. And, as the friction tore at the ships shielding Cyan drew and held her breath, her heart beating fast.

She had used the fore and aft stabilizers, to no avail and, with its trim lost; the small starfighter was in a powered freefall.

She grit her teeth, then holding the stick between her knees, Cyan drew the back of her left gauntlet into her field of view. The stim reserve was as low as the ships power; but a blast was needed. So, with the index finger of her right hand, she pressed a small red button inset the small console on the back of her left gauntlet; and, almost immediately the chemical cocktail boosted her system.

And, with iridescent blue-eyes, Cyan fought with the controls, to bring the small craft back under her control.

The effort was Herculean for the slightly built woman, but she was successful.

Then, as heat flared off the shields, Cyan lowered the landing gear. A skid beneath the nose and wings emerged and locked into place. And, just for a moment, Cyan allowed a smile to cross her face.

‘Here it is,’ she mused, ‘it’s instant death or survival. So - it’s fifty-fifty? I’ll go with those odds.’ Her chances of survival reduced though, as the mountain range appeared before the view-screen, with menacing twin-peaks before her.

She mouthed what she thought, muscles tightening on the joystick and, momentarily she wished the onboard computer still worked.

“Grant you,” she mused aloud, I like a challenge, but this is ridiculous…” Cyan mused aloud, quickly glancing at the readout that displayed the shields status:

‘Power at forty-five per cent…’ It wasn’t good and, realizing this, Cyan mumbled, “They say, any landing where you walk away uninjured is a good one. Well, I hope this is a good landing!”

But, even with the power to the engines at their lowest, the ship sped toward the mountain range and, the twin peaks and Cyan knew she had to act fast. And, with scant seconds to spare, she threw the nose shield outward, so that as the shaft hit ground, she might survive the impact.

Suddenly, between the peaks, Cyan saw green, some woodland and, a flat plain.

“That’s where I’m heading!” She exclaimed, killing the main engine and as the starfighter careened forward, she fired the forward jets, to slow it further.

She passed over the trees at first and then entered the upper branches of the woodland.

The crash tore at the shields, as the ship finally crashed into the ground, tearing a long scar into the surface, destroying bushes and trees in it’s wake.

And the earth itself seemed to scream, midst the sound of the destruction wrought.

But, finally the starfighter came to a rest, on the flat plain of green.

Immediately Cyan ran a quick systems check, then began to check her suit, for any ruptures; there were none.

Then she shut the engine down.

“Now, what was that I was saying about a safe landing…?” she muttered.

Cyan looked out of the left side of the cockpit, then the right and, she smiled.

“Well, it looks like I’ll walk from…” she began, and then caught the image in the rearview monitor and her mouthed open wide, in astonishment.

The scar in the earth had craft had left, was healing.

Cyan looked out of the left side of the cockpit, then the right and, closed her mouth.

“The green is rising!” She exclaimed.

Then, glancing at the altimeter, Cyan frowned: ‘Below ground level?’

It didn’t make sense. Then, it did.

“I’m sinking!” Cyan panicked, “Sinking!”

Heart beating fast, Cyan reached forward and pressed a button on the starfighters main console. The cockpit canopy flew off and, the ejector seat fired.

Then, as she approached the outer-atmosphere, Cyan looked down, as her starfighter was enveloped by the green…

Again Cyan scowled: “Goldarn it, whoever heard of a living-planet… that eats starfighters?”

COMMENTS

hannahrose
02:43 May 07 2012

AWESOME WRITING! YOU SHOULD GET YOUR WORK PUBLISHED! KEEP UP THE AWESOME WORK.

therealthing
07:09 May 07 2012

I agree, your stories are riveting

XD

TheUnknownObis
02:09 May 09 2012

A painter with words...

XbluesandX
14:16 May 09 2012

Enjoyed

To Hug, or not to Hug
00:22 May 05 2012
Times Read: 808

One young Lady made a friend FOR Life, with me, as she taught me it was okay to take hugs, again.

I have even given a few myself, Now.

But, last person I hugged with intent ended up with a brick wall on them.

I'd grown to like a young lady who visited the project. Against 'the rules', I used to hug her. One Thursday she didn't arrive. Turned out, before going into rehab, she and her fella were in an old garage and she was in the mechanics pit and had her last hit, as her boyfriend pushed a wall onto her...

I recognize it happened, as it was part of their chaotic lifestyle; but I'd grown close, I cared.

And Now, looking back, I guess thing’s like that are why people who do any form of ‘social-work’ have those barriers, the one’s I always had difficulty with, hence the fact I never became a social worker.

COMMENTS

Constrained by circumstance
13:35 May 01 2012
Times Read: 827

*Suggested for Older Readers

Constrained by circumstance.

She watched him walk down the driveway, open the gate, turn back and wave, then turn to the left and, the taxi, waiting curbside.

Marie tried not to cry as she watched the car pull away.

The deployment was for six months and that was six months without him. It was almost too much; yet she turned back and opened the front door, to re-enter the house and take up her filial duties.

Family and friends were still sitting round the dining table as she entered and all eyes had turned to her, as she entered.

“It’s alright,” she told everyone, with a smile painted onto her face, “He made his car alright…”

Marie’s mother-in-law, the indomitable Mrs. Keen patted her right hand as she tutted away, with a very patronizing smile, “My husband served. I saw him leave many, many times. It’ll be alright…” And, she patted her hand again, her bejeweled hand an irritant that she did not want to feel, not really.

“Don’t worry my love.” The Queen of the purple rinse brigade assured her, with a smile that a crocodile would be proud of, Marie mused.

“I know my son and, he’ll be alright…” She had added.

Thankfully, it was at that moment that Lee, her oldest friend called across the chatter, “So I guess you’re on for the weekend then?”

Conversation ceased, for a second, as everyone at the table awaited her response;

Staring glumly at her now empty plate, Marie muttered, “Guess I’ll be home doing the washing…”

Turning her head with a quick wink toward her friend Lee, she looked to the right and Mrs. Keen, then smiled, “Not!”

Mrs. Keen, the Queen of the blue-rinse brigade looked shocked, as around the table everyone laughed.

Marie stood, her arms outstretched, the fingertips spread on the table-top; as she looked around at her family, friends, then Mrs. Keen, “Lee and I are going to Yellowstone, this weekend… so I’m looking for a house-sitter. Any takers?”

Of course, she already had someone in mind, after all Dougal had to be looked after and, that scuffy brown and white long-haired hound had been with her for years.

Marie turned her head to look at her cousin Tammy, already in JobCorps and, bored beyond belief: “You don’t mind house-sitting for a long week-end, do you?”

From the look of rapture that spread on the blonde teen’s face, it was apparent that she had no problem with the chore, which caused Marie to grin.

After all, her Aunt was a bit of a ball-buster, which may have accounted for her being on her third husband and sixth convertible.

‘There,’ Marie thought, ‘everything sorted.’

Briefly she looked round the room: and she blushed.

‘Well, not everything’: she did have the washing to do and, there was a houseful.

Marie clapped her hands together, to get everyone’s attention.

“Okay folks, time to go…” she called out, to an ‘Awwwww….’ Of disappointment and, a scowl of disapproval from Mrs. Keen.

“I have a video-call for four in the morning and, I need to be rested before then. So…” Marie expressed, as she shooed her guests out, thanking Tammi and, giving Lee a hug last, telling her friend how much she looked forward to their weekend away.

Then finally alone, Marie smiled.

Marie locked the front-door, as she didn’t want to be disturbed, not when she was doing the washing, not today.

She made her way through the lounge, where she stopped to looked in the wall mirror that reflected her titian hair and sparkling blues eyes, which her young husband Michael found so appealing.

They had only been married a year and, now he was going to be shipped overseas: but she had a reminder of him. And, as she picked up his shorts from the bedroom floor earlier, that reminder had come into play.

It was only the farewell party that had left Marie feeling so constrained by circumstance.

Now, she could enjoy the instructions he had given her to follow, that had left her feeling so agitated, throughout the meal.

Having turned off the lights, she could no longer she the mess her guests had left: and though Marie knew that it would have to be attended to, it could wait, for now. Then once in the kitchen she dimmed the lights and loaded the machine, pouring herself a large glass of red wine, which she took to the round pine table.

She sat on one of the four oval backed chairs; then sat quietly, as the wash began, quietly smiling, as she sipped at her wine.

Finally, the machine’s cycle changed and the spin cycle began.

Marie stood, a little apprehensive at what she intended, but he had given her instructions before he left and, she did so want to see how it all worked out and…

“Enough justification,” Marie muttered, as she stepped over to the machine, of white.

She gripped the far left corner, nearest the sink and, the far right corner, nearest the door, pressing herself against the near left corner.

Just before Michael had left, he had taken her by hand and dragged her through the party and into the kitchen, to many ribald comments.

They had briefly kissed, with questing, dueling tongues; then he had turned her quickly round and placed her in this very position. He had lifted her long floral pattered linen skirt, running his hands up her left and right nylon-covered legs, to the flesh at the top of the self-support hose.

He had caressed her soft pert-buttocks and, then drawn her lilac tanga briefs down to the tops of her stockings, whispering in her left ear softly, “When wash day comes round, I want you to think of me…”

Michael her teased her buttocks apart, then slid the two well-lubed Ben-Wa balls into her liquid warmth. And, as he had drawn her brief’s back up over her flesh, Michael had kissed the back of her neck.

“You will think off me, won’t you?” He’d asked, allowing her dress to fall into place.

And now, as the spin-cycle near its full speed, she grips the corner harder, as the machine begins to judder and vibrate, against her clothing covered sex; and the vibrations reach the two metal balls…

“Think of me?” He’d asked and now as she washed, wearing the Ben-Wa as instructed, wave upon wave of pleasure swept through her… And, Marie closed her eyes, sighing: ‘How could she not think of him?’