I am unbelievably undecided between posting this series of stories as a weekly flash fiction installment OR saving my writing for a later full publication. Thoughts?
How can I balance giving interested readers a taste of my ongoing work without giving up too much for free online when I intend to pursue it as a private publication later down the road?
Well, regardless, here is D.R Breshears’ latest personal work. My past year of ideas between my Hector series, Sleepwalking series, and creepy short stories are slowly coming together into an exciting clusterfuck of an idea. Clearly, the title isn’t the most clever, but it’s a work in progress. Enjoy.
Black eyes peered out of the spot where Hector lay, his fingers moving rapidly underneath his sheets and what looked like a well-experienced typist speed.
‘Honey.’ She grimaced as his fingers stopped suddenly.
His movements were clearly agitated as he forced his hands to his side, his black eyes glistening up toward the popcorn-stained ceiling instead of meeting her own softly tired ones.
‘Yes’. It was not quite a response, more of a statement he made, very confidently.
Her eyes twitched from sleep deprivation as she moved her thoughts around to figure a way to put her words into the fragile room carefully. She always had a tendency to want to snatch them back after she said them, she did not want to do this with Hector in the same room.
‘You need to go to sleep, otherwise, we won’t have a good day at the doctor tomorrow’. Nervously, she paused. She waited for a response, watching the slight upturns and rounded curves of his lips as he looked to ponder a rebuttal.
His eyes changed from lackluster ceiling fixation to burn-a-hole-through-the-door-behind-her focus.
The color that shown through today was the same Coraline Button-Eyed-Black she had seen before. It was haunting, to say the least.
‘If I sleep, I will walk’. Very matter of factly he blinked away the next words he looked like he wanted to say.
Instead, he muttered quietly, and maybe even timidly this time, ‘You know what that’s like now, don’t you mom’.
She felt fuzzy around the edges.
Her eyes blurred. Her eyes were blurry.
Falling apart, she held it together.
Her life was complete, she had regret.
Okay friends, today is the last day of my beachy Visual Vacation, I hope you’ve enjoyed it!
This last bit of images show something I had never before experienced, something I will always remember, and something that truly makes you realize how small you are and how great the earth is.
Until next time, sweet waves!
Another shot from my week of visual vacation posts and a short piece I put together today. The image and the story do match each other, if you stretch your imagination a little further than it’s been stretched today, that is.
Stay curious, friends.
She felt cold. She felt cold and maybe a little damp.
Most definitely damp.
She began to open her eyes.
Do you know that awkwardly comforting feeling when you first wake up, when your eyelids are the heaviest not simply because of sleep, but also because of that fine layer of goop keeping your eyes pried together? She always liked that feeling, that almost disgusting sound of forcing your eyes open, yet today she didn’t feel it, they didn’t open.
She tried and she tried to will her eyes open, to exert any and all physical force into the act of fluttering even one eye open, yet all she saw was darkness.
Reasonably so, she was convinced she was dreaming. She was waiting for the movie to play on the screens of her eyelids, for something terrifying or silly or sexy to pop up out of her subconscious and spin a tale for her.
No. Just darkness.
This was unsettling. It was suffocatingly silent.
Words began forming on her lips, which is where they stayed, because yet again, her lips would not part.
Her mouth felt dry and her skin began to crawl.
She could feel the gentle, warm breaths of her lover beside her, so she reached out to grab him.
His skin was warm and smooth and unmoving, yet she could not see it and she could not speak to him to wake him. She realized her body was moving of its own accord just then, her arms caressing her lover like she would after a particularly drunken date night.
His thigh was warm, her hand fitting in the crook of his legs perfectly as she searched for more warmth. He was breathing heavier, and her hands were searching harder.
Then, as if it were the easiest thing to do, she sat bolt upright. Her eyes would still not pry open, her mouth still smoothly shut.
Her hands came back to her, she touched herself, her legs, her thighs, her stomach.
She felt to be all there. On the other hand, she felt to be not there at all.
Panic set in as her feet took her beyond the grasp of her bed frame, past the threshold to her bedroom, past the hallway she knew had to be pitch black at this time.
She didn’t run into anything, she wasn’t sure if she would stop even if she did.
The feeling of moving without seeing, without saying anything, was almost ghostly.
As if cued from another world the screen projector in her brain popped on and started playing a film on her eyelids, just as she was hoping for in bed.
When the image focused in it was a fond memory of an older house, her grandmother’s house. There was a young version of herself standing there, a child with her eyes closed. She was ripping away at something on the floor in front of her, she was in a rage.
The movements her younger body was making were rigid, too quick, frightening.
As she moved closer toward herself she felt her legs moving down the hall again. She bent down to help herself up, to see what had her so enraged, just to find the face was not her own.
The face was not anyone’s at all. There was nothing. A Coraline Button-Eyed-Black note fell upon the face she expected to be seeing as a mirror image, and she felt a fear stronger than ever before.
Her lips desperately worked to part, to let a scream escape, to beg for help from anyone, to do anything she herself wanted to do.
In a flutter of both denial and fear she began to run, both her younger legs and her older legs, and in what seemed like a second she was laying in her bed again, her lover’s arm draped around her with a warmth she thought she’d die without feeling again.
This may be a bit premature but I am feeling overwhelmingly blessed today so I thought I’d share the positivity.
I am a highly impatient person. I blame this on spending so much of my life watching and waiting. Throughout adolescence, I rarely made big moves, tried for challenging things or got out in life in general. I watched from the sideline, educated myself, and dreamed big.
Today I am a go getter. I find things I want and I work for them. I wanted a love time would stand still for, I found him. I wanted to travel the world. I’m working on it. I wanted to be a writer. I am. I want to be a more positive, helpful person in life. That’s coming, slowly.
This year has made me realize how lucky and how strong I am. It has been, by far, the best year of my life, and I want to thank any and all who have been a part of it.
From Chicago and Orlando to Gatlinburg and Puerto Morelos, to the shores of Thousand Hills where my best friend proposed to me, to my hometown where the two newest blessings in our lives were adopted by my father, 2016 is one for the books, and I couldn’t be any more pleased with it all. (holy run on sentence)
To keep up with my week of visual vacation posts for you all, here are the things I am missing the most….
Exotic food and WATER everywhere you look. I’ll take that 80-degree weather back too, please.
To support my photography please visit my page at here! 🙂
These photos were taken last week on our journey to la Isla De Mujeres, a gorgeous island right off the coast of Quintana Roo. In order to get there, we had to ride a catamaran about an hour and a half out, which was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. We snorkeled along the way, something I never thought I would like to do but ended up going with the guide alone through the 2 mile ‘underwater statue garden’ route. See more about that here: Underwater Museum.
Don’t count on this being my only post today, I’m itching to write something spectacular soon… I need more coffee and my Zephyr Song musings.