Day Late and …Well a few dollars short

So I totally did it again! (Not sure why that sounds so flippant, but I do type how I talk. It’s not ditzy sounding out loud. Promise.)

Ahem. Anywho.
So yeah. I had to blow dust off of this and then I spaced writing a Halloween blog. I wasn’t sure what to write about because I don’t feel like this needs to be an update blog. I have decided however that I’m going to be starting or rather trying to start a video blog. It’s not going to be anything like this blog. So I’m not going to ramble on about life happenings and read smut to my viewers. Although I guess that could be kind of erotic. (Wheels are turning now!)
Nope. This blog, the one you’re reading that is, I’m going to post a few stories I wrote for extra credit in my medical terminology class. They’re still very fitting since it’s Samhain. Enjoy. <|=) (That’s a witch, just so you know.)

Untitled Poem
I’ve come comio for the corono that beats in his thoraco.
The encephalo in his cranio keeps him witty and fun.
The hemo pumping through his varico.
But mostly I’ve come to crave the glyco his cyano-opthalmos pour into my psychosis.

Untitled

Part of his cephalo is missing. He looks ill. Suddenly those dead eyes turn to me. I’m a being of interest. My heart hurts as I watch him walk in his cell. He doesn’t know I’m alive but I know he’s dead. He can smell my sarco. His hunger grows. His eyes are melano. His lips are erythro. Blood drips from his oro. His latero is visible and I can see his entero. The last of the chezieno drips to the ground from the tears in his abdomen. I raise the pistol and pull the trigger. The bullet tears through his rhino and makes his head snap back. His body falls to the floor and I wonder for just a moment what kind of bio he lived before the change.

Untitled Blair Story in Terminology

“I can’t go in there!” Dave Lucas stepped out of the way, holding his sleeve to his naso. He kept turning several shades of green. I could see the conio flying from where the door stood open. I moved closer and it hit me. Mortem, the osmo was undeniable. Suddenly I didn’t want to look postero the door. But I had an image to keep up.

“Lucas, get in there! I can’t keep covering your back. Sooner or later you’re going to have to discover the dead before I do.”

He just shook his head at me.

“God, you’re such a bleeding colpo.” I shoved him towards the door. “Now get in there!”
Lucas reluctantly moved forward. I could tell from his body language he was going to emeso.

“You lose your gastro here and I’ll never take you out again.”

He turned to glare at me, to say something, but he never had the chance. Something flew at him, fast and hard. I heard it hit his trachea and then he was down, gasping for ox. I watched in fascination as him and this thing tumbled around on the ground. The sounds resembled dogs fighting over a piece of meat. And that’s when I realized it. Not one, but two zombies were attacking Dave. I reached for my gun, knowing I didn’t have a clear shot, but I had to take the chance.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, opened them and fired. The things stopped twitching. Chole rose in my pharyngo, and I felt it my turn to lose my stomach. There was only one zombie, but it had two heads; Siamese twins.

“Jesus.” I knelt down in front of the mass of bodies. One head was still alive, the mouth snapping at me. Its teeth are rotting, the color a shade of xantho. I could just shoot it, but this is something that needs to be studied. My attention is drawn to Dave. He’s been bit, but he’s still alive. I pull out my phone and make a call to headquarters. I inform them that my agent is bit and I have a 4231, an anomalo that needs to be picked up. A voice in my auro informs me that they are already out and can’t be reached. Fantastic. That’s just the news that I wanted.

Dave starts to moan and I hang up the phone, after snapping orders to the receptionist.

“Am I dying?” He puts his hand to his face and starts whimpering. “I’ve been bit! Oh god, I’m going to change! Kill me! Please! I don’t want to be one of them!”

I roll my eyes and try not to lose my temper. “You’ve seen too many movies. You’re not going to change.” I sit down next to him and kick the zombie away, amazed that it can’t get up since its twin is dead.

He calms down some. “What do you mean I’m not going to change?  Isn’t that how it works?”

I take a deep breath and begin to explain. “The truth is we still don’t know what causes this patho. We originally thought it was a septico, but then it evolved into something worse.” I pause and look at him. “Wait. Why am I explaining this to you? Weren’t you a part of training?”

The lack of gnoso flashes in his eyes. “There was training?”

I bite the inside of my bucco, preventing the nasty things I could say. Instead I ask, “How’s your brachio?”

“It hurts, but I’m okay. Can I sit up?”

“Sure.”

Sundry

I’ve picked today’s blog title because it is going to be many things. Firstly, I’d like to start out with a history lesson.

This book was the first Romance novel I ever read. I did so when I was 13. It’s a bit of a funny story. I was in my room cleaning, as was asked of me and I wanted to organize my closet. Little did I realize that my mom had been keeping her romance novels in there in a box. When I found said box, I wondered how many times I had seen her go into my room and come out. I always thought she was just snooping to make sure my room was clean. Obviously I was wrong there. …Anywho.  So when I found this box, I had to open it. And oh my. So many books! I felt so naughty! It was wrong to read these! I wasn’t old enough! …So I did what any good little girl of 13 would do. I pushed as much of my stuff as I could against my bedroom door, sat against the pile and pulled out the books, being careful of placement. I went through several. And of course, I knew from experience that there were “bad” things in the books. My mom coveted them. I wish I could start this with this book being the first that I picked up, but that’s not true. Although this book was on the top layer. I picked it up, opened the cover, read what the excerpt was and decided that I’d try this one. It sounded hot, and without getting creepy, I was turned on by it.
So I spent a week with this ritual. I would pile my door, sit against it, blare music from my stereo and read. By the time I was finished with the book, I wanted more. And I so I found another book. And another. And another. I think within the span of a month or so I read 7 or 8 Cassie Edwards novels.
Skip a few months. I don’t know how or remember how it happened, but my mom found out. She wasn’t mad which I was worried she would be. Instead, she bought me Harlequin romance and even gave me a box of romance novels that a friend gave to her. One of my favorite things to read at that point were these little Harlequin Romance magazine books with multiple stories in them. I devoured those. Now I remember! My grandma was moving out of her house into ours and I found her stash of those little magazines and sat in the living room and read them while they were in the garage. I didn’t hear my mom come in the house because I was so engrossed with the story I was reading. When she saw what I was reading, I can only guess what was going through her mind. She didn’t say anything, except to tell me there were more and asked if I wanted them.
Fast forward to a few years from then and I have quite an impressive collection of books on my shelf. My mom even gave me a few of her Cassie Edwards. During this time I had toyed with the idea of writing. At this point I had already been writing poems and the little stories kids write when they’re younger. Surprisingly enough, I had started working on a vampire story. I think this stemmed from reading Interview With A Vampire, The Vampire Lestat and starting on Queen of the Damned. I couldn’t help but want to take my story in a sexual direction. I tried and kind of failed. I still have that story, unfinished and just kind of shake my head at it.
At that point I forged ahead and wrote my first smut story. And then my second one. And then a third. Hey, I thought, this is pretty easy! I found the words came to me easily and though I knew I was technically too young, I started scoping out websites that I could post them on. I never did, but I thought about it.

…Okay, so I went through my blogs and yes I did post something like this, but this goes into more detail. Now in that blog it says the first story I ever wrote was The Storm. I don’t remember. It was too long ago, but I know my first two stories. I had even written an erotic poem. But here for your enjoyment is the first “crude” erotic poem I wrote when I was 17. If I ever find the first erotic/romantic one I’ll post that.

No scratch that. I lied. This won’t be the first or second, but definitely in the top five. lol
Enjoy.

Candied Cunts

Candied cunts and perfect dreams.
Transmission death,
and whipped through schemes.
Stop!
Can’t you see it?
Those chocolate filled creams.
Delicious on flesh,
licked from the skin.
Sheer clothes…
Sheets thin…
Devilish disaster,
a yummy sin!
…The blood…
it drips from my lips…
You lay back on the bed…
In your eyes a euphoric
glaze.
…Hot…
…Needy…
Sweaty skin, molded
together as one…
Slut!
They scream at you as
you leave his house.
Smut!
They burn down the house, but
he’s not there.
Grinning,
You walk away,
ignoring their chants,
licking your lips,
unzipping your
pants…
Rounding the corner to
his secret place.
His sexuality greets you.
engulfs you…
Smothers you to his
bed…
He hovers above you.
“Bite the pillow.”
Deeply…
Nestled inside…
He’s in your head…