CunningBastard
Moon
- Joined
- Sep 10, 2022
Just a journal for writing and art.
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A Bastard's Journal. (Comments Welcomed.)
- Thread starter CunningBastard
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OP
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CunningBastard
Moon
- Joined
- Sep 10, 2022
Those eyes. Those fierce hazel eyes. They watched in silent contemplation as Cecilia graced the ballroom floor with her presence. She moved with a poise he found indisputable. As much as he wished to turn away, he could not. She was simply too beautiful to ignore. He wanted her, needed her, and hungered for her. Hungered to press his frame against hers in the moonlight. To kiss her and to envelop her within his libido. His soul felt selfish in the face of such exquisite beauty. He took a long sip of vodka from the frosted glass pinched between his index and middle finger.
Devon was of average height, though his frame carried a musculature rarely seen in his sedentary occupation. He was short and stocky, a Pitbull of a man, in description and personality. He wondered what Cecilia thought of him. They were two opposites in life. One seemed to care only for his own success while the other gave as much of herself to others as possible. He wondered if she hated him, hated him for his money and the way he accumulated it and hoarded it for himself like an angry dragon in fantasy stories of yore.
Devon tried his best to hide his shameful appetite. To ignore the lust in his soul, but no matter how much he tried to repress his feelings he was unable to. With one last sip of his cocktail, he marched towards Cecilia as she greeted guests for her reception. This ballroom was rented by one of the many charities she worked for.”Hello, Madam. Are you here alone tonight?” He already knew the answer. She was far too busy helping the less fortunate to find a suitable date for the night’s festivities.
Devon was of average height, though his frame carried a musculature rarely seen in his sedentary occupation. He was short and stocky, a Pitbull of a man, in description and personality. He wondered what Cecilia thought of him. They were two opposites in life. One seemed to care only for his own success while the other gave as much of herself to others as possible. He wondered if she hated him, hated him for his money and the way he accumulated it and hoarded it for himself like an angry dragon in fantasy stories of yore.
Devon tried his best to hide his shameful appetite. To ignore the lust in his soul, but no matter how much he tried to repress his feelings he was unable to. With one last sip of his cocktail, he marched towards Cecilia as she greeted guests for her reception. This ballroom was rented by one of the many charities she worked for.”Hello, Madam. Are you here alone tonight?” He already knew the answer. She was far too busy helping the less fortunate to find a suitable date for the night’s festivities.
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OP
OP
CunningBastard
Moon
- Joined
- Sep 10, 2022
OP
OP
CunningBastard
Moon
- Joined
- Sep 10, 2022
A blue wool sweater with brown patches at the arms draped over his lithe frame. He was a tall man, though gaunt in build. Large black circles hung just beneath his sable irises. His smile was faint and inauthentic to anyone who cared to gaze at him long enough. His spindly fingers gripped the fountain pen with angst. Obviously, he considered this book signing beneath him, even though it helped put food on his table.
His eyes drifted through the line as he contemplated who enjoyed his works enough to meet him in person. They were mostly unobtrusive thirty-somethings who found his enchanted prose enlightening. His eyes grew though as caught the first glimpse of a small young woman about three people back in the line. She was different from the rest, she possessed an enigmatic energy that warmed Victor’s usually frigid soul. He wondered why a person at the apex of their life would read such a dour author as himself. Victor was intrigued by the woman and her machinations. He quickly jotted down a messy version of his signature to three people before her. “Hello, Ma’am. To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?”
His voice was low and more of a growl than a normal sentence. His words were curt and to the point something he had struggled with throughout his life. He was always awkward in front of girls he found attractive. His hands instinctively groped the silver watch around his wrist.
His eyes drifted through the line as he contemplated who enjoyed his works enough to meet him in person. They were mostly unobtrusive thirty-somethings who found his enchanted prose enlightening. His eyes grew though as caught the first glimpse of a small young woman about three people back in the line. She was different from the rest, she possessed an enigmatic energy that warmed Victor’s usually frigid soul. He wondered why a person at the apex of their life would read such a dour author as himself. Victor was intrigued by the woman and her machinations. He quickly jotted down a messy version of his signature to three people before her. “Hello, Ma’am. To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?”
His voice was low and more of a growl than a normal sentence. His words were curt and to the point something he had struggled with throughout his life. He was always awkward in front of girls he found attractive. His hands instinctively groped the silver watch around his wrist.
Last edited:
OP
OP
CunningBastard
Moon
- Joined
- Sep 10, 2022
