Chris.

Chris sat back in the recliner, and let out a sigh. The stifling air was consuming him, but not like his disturbing thoughts already had. He closed his eyes and saw nothing, but saw everything. The woodpecker in his head reminded him of the night before, and as he sat in this room, he contemplated his actions, and he began to wonder if what he had done that cold, snowy night had been right. Right, but then in this day and age who was to say what was right anymore? The line between right and wrong was no longer vivid like it perhaps had been. Now it was blurry. Now it was beginning to disappear.

He opened his eyes, and surveyed his surroundings. He was sat in a comfortable, leather recliner. Opposite him was a vacant, much less comfortable looking chair. The kind that probably left you writhing in disgust as you tried to find a comfortable way to sit. Between himself and the opposite chair was a small, glass coffee table, with a box of tissues and a potplant. The room itself was stark, with a mouldy looking brown carpet, and wood panelling on the walls. There was only two small windows, so light was provided by a luminescent striplight. It flickered, once, then twice. A picture hung on the wall. It was nondescript, a printed image of a watercolour painting. In the painting was a farmhouse, with hay bales, and a ploughed meadow, with the sun slowly setting and casting its rays of hope.

Chris snorted with disgust, and at that time the door swung open and a woman strode in. She looked like she was in her forties, looked after herself. She wore a grey skirt, a white blouse and a grey jacket on top. She wore glasses, and clipped to her blouse was a tiny white flower. For a moment she stood near Chris and looked at him.

“So you would be Mr Haynes?” She said, extending her hand. “I’m Miss Kyle.” She beamed at him. He took her hand and they shook firmly, and then she was seated.

“Don’t you, er, find that seat a little uncomfortable?” Chris smiled wryly, lifting one of his feet up and placing it on his knee.

“It just so happens Mr Haynes, you are sitting in my seat, and I am in yours.”

“I beg your pardon, “ he replied, and started to get up.

“You stay right where you are, I’m not one to disturb a man from a comfort,” she chuckled softly. Chris halted, and slowly sat back down.

“Er by the way, I’d prefer it if you called me Chris”

“Then you had best know me as Jenna. So Chris, you were referred to me by your pediatrician because you’ve been suffering panic attacks lately, would you like to tell me what’s been happening?”

She lifted a leg up, and hung onto her knee with both her hands, and again she smiled. She had a soft voice like honey, and the eyes of an Eagle. Despite the tough, businesswoman nature of her dress, her demeanour was clearly that which matched her profession. She was soft, sympathetic, understanding and an excellent listener. Or so Chris hoped. Chris suddenly began to think of when he had first set eyes on his wife Jolene. Chris was a fresher at his University and had been working in a Campus bar. During one shift late on a Thursday night, a young brunette had approached the bar and asked for a Vodka Martini. Chris was not afraid of beautiful women, but there was something about this young woman that upset his balance. Isn’t Vodka Martini the kind of drink James Bond would drink? He had jokingly queried.

Yes, but this drink isn’t for me, it’s for you, she had replied, and as she finished she looked him in the eye and bit her bottom lip.

Why would you buy me a drink like this? His charm had vapourised, and he was genuinely intrigued as the where this young woman was taking this.

Because you’re everything a man should be, you are a James Bond.

She then slid a small piece of paper across the bar, smiled broadly and walked out, without looking back. On the paper it said, Jolene, 12a Honduras Halls, Honduras Halls being one of the campus residences.

It took two weeks for Chris to bolster up the confidence to take a visit, but he knew he had to. When he finally knocked on her door, he knew he was entering into something that would change his life. Their love quickly blossomed from lust, and from this love there came a child and marriage. Chris smiled to himself, and turned his attention back to the current situation.

“Is this really necessary?”

“Well if your paediatrician believes it to be,” Miss Jenna Kyle replied. She tilted her head, and looked at him sharply.

“What is it with all this bullshit?” Chris flung his hands in the air and landed them on the arms of the recliner in exasperation, he could feel a buzz through his body as his frustration grew.

“It's crap! This modern world we live in, every fucking body is going to see their shrink every five fucking minutes. It's all Prozac this, Paxil that, everybody's on fucking drugs. I don't believe in it, what's wrong with you people!”

He was almost out of breath and spoke to quickly that on a couple of occasions spit flew from the corner of his mouth. Jenna remained completely calm and unfazed, and sat back in her chair.

“How long have you been feeling angry?”

“How long? How long!? Everybody gets angry sometimes. So what, I got dizzy and passed out, so now I have to come to you and talk to you about my problems every week?”

He paused, but she said nothing.

“You know what, I'm right, I know I am. It's all bullshit, men used to cover up their feelings and get on with life. You got on with life because it's what a man had to do. You did it to protect your family. My Father always used to say to me, Son, don't ever show your emotions, because it makes you look weak. But nowadays, every two seconds some guy is crying about some trivial bullshit. Men are weak now, they let their wives leave them and their children disrespect them.

Well let me tell you now, Miss Kyle, whatever I'm about to do you can be certain I don't fall into the category of men in touch with their emotions!”

“Mr Haynes-”

“Chris, god damnit,”

“Yes, Chris. Let me just make it clear to you Chris how this works. Nothing you say in here goes out, everything stays in the room and I don't talk about it to any body, not even Dr Petoriak. All I'm here for is to listen to you, and to maybe try and help you find a little guidance in life. So tell me, when did you first start feeling like this?”

Throughout the whole time, Jenna remained calm and collected. Chris could see his outburst had not affected her in the slightest, this was a tough old bird and she had probably seen it all before, every month, every week, every day.

“Well, er, I dunno, about two weeks ago.” He shrugged.

The Incident

This is an extract from a story I started to write when I was studying my GCSEs 5 years ago. I never finished it, but who knows, I could possibly come back to it one day. Yes, again it is a love story, you'll have to excuse a slight influx of romance on my blog, I do write other genres some examples of which will be posted soon.

Chapter 1

Confused and bewildered, Adam picked himself up off the scorching tarmac. He cries in agony as he feels burning sensations across his body. Tears sting his eyes but scrunching his face seems to do little to ease the pain. Staggering to the side of the road, Adam hears a faint voice calling to him. He tries to regain his senses, propping his wounded body on the kerb. “Oh my god! Are you okay?” He feels arms around him and at last Adam is able to open his eyes despite the blood. “Yeah, I think I'm alright,” he replies.

Kneeled in front of him is a beautiful sight. For a moment, all sense of pain vanishes as through is caked eyes Adam sees a young brunette girl, who is quite possibly the most beautiful girl he has ever seen in his life. “Millie, how did you find me?”

She pulls his head onto her breast, “I just heard this scream, I came round the corner, and you were lying there...” tears slowly well in her eyes as she recollects the incident. “I'm calling a fucking ambulance,” her tone of voice changes to anger, the tears stop and Millie get out her phone. “And the police, too. I can't believe they fucking drove off, it's fucking mental Adam!”

Before Adam can react, she's on the phone. “I'm alright Millie!” He protests, but the tenacious beauty doesn't hang up.

“Ambulance please, oh and police, there's been a hit and run and my friend is injured.” She hangs up her mobile and returns her attention to Adam. “You were lucky.”

It's late evening, possibly around eight pm, and a high end hatchback is moving speedily through traffic, ignoring any horns of protest from other drivers. At the wheel, Millie is sat forward on her haunches, with a desperate look upon her face. She pulls up outside a small terraced house next to a football club and a leisure centre.

Turning the engine off she lets out a sigh. Beads of sweat dot her forehead and her hair is tangled. Millie tries to think, but her jumbles thoughts confuse her. How could this happen? Why Adam? Why didn't he stay in the fucking hospital where he would have recovered quickly? Why does he always feel like he has to act tough? Why does he still act as if he is trying to impress a girl, when he has Millie?

She rings his doorbell and his Mother answers. “Hi Mrs Frey, I've come to see Adam.”

“I know you have sweetheart, your always here for Adam!” Mrs Frey smiles warmly and opens the door wide for Millie. “Come in, come in! He's in the front room watching telly.”

Millie enters the front room and Adam is lying on the sofa, legs propped up on cushions. She feels instantly upset, but instead of compassion, Millie unleashes her fire. “Why the fuck did you leave the hospital Adam!” Adam smiles wryly and switches channels. “I'm not staying the night in a disease ridden, smelly hell hole just because I have stitches babe.”

“That's so stupid. You could have recovered so much quicker. I don't get you, it's like your still trying to impress me.”

“It's not about you, Millie.”

“Oh, so it's another girl is it?”

Adams perhaps arrogance is wiped off his face and is replaced by confusion. So that's it. Think I'm seeing another girl, huh, babes? Think I'm sleeping around? Chatting up other ladies?

But instead of getting angry like Millie, the confusion and upset causes Adam to feel the pain in his legs more. The doctors stitched him up, very well, but the pain is still there and Adam winces in agony. For the first time since A&E, tears flood his eyes and the emotion of the incident returns. Adam utters nothing.

Millie sees the tears. She closes the front room door for privacy, and kneels on the floor by Adams side. “I'm sorry baby. I just want you to recover.” She says no more but holds him tight, kissing him once.

The Assimilating Lovers - Chapter One

It wasn't always like this. Finn could remember the days when the summer blazed high in the sky, the grass glowed green and little beads of lustrous sweat would trickle down his forehead. Summertime wasn't what it was. Summertime wasn't how he remembered it when he was an innocent, free spirit, a roaming, adventurous child. Summer this year was instead filled with drizzly rain, cloudy days and temperatures normally associated with winter. Finn was 18, and on the surface he was your typical older teenager. He attended the local Sixth Form College, had a respectable group of friends and enjoyed the usual – socialising, music, and of course girls. Finn was also a keen surfer, and when the weather permits spent as much of his free time available on his board, trying to catch the ultimate waves. More preternatural than socially compliant, He didn't always fit in, particularly as a younger teen where the right fashion and the right choice of friends was all that separated the “cool kids” from the atypical and socially rejected outcasts. As he grew up, so did others, and Finns reluctance to fit in with stereotypes suddenly became the in-thing, and soon everyone was wearing mismatched items of clothing and rock music became cool again. Finn made his friends and his confidence grew and the roles reversed, at the end of school life Finn was now almost idolised, and widely adored.

Finn pulled his gaze away from the window as his thoughts drifted away from the bland drab weather towards Marisa. Marisa was to Finn a fallen angel, a girl so dazzlingly beautiful and eloquent that he could no more imagine being with her then one could visualize winning the lottery, or lifting the World Cup. To be with Marisa was beyond his phantasm, a fantasy of the utmost divinity. Finn first met her in pre-school, but feelings of lust did not develop until both Marisa and Finns bodies and minds began to change, Marisa grew beautiful and sexually desirable, and Finn began to feel attraction. But for Marisa, Finns attraction ran deeper than the sexual, lustful feelings one might have towards a celebrity or famous star. Finn could not wipe her out of his mind the second he was overcome, Marisa was always there.

Finn's phone buzzed, he jolted awake, and thoughts of Marisa quickly dashed as he rushed to answer the call. It was Zak.

“Finn, are you free?”

Finn paused, and a glittering memory of Marisa sprang back to mind. Her eloquent face and desirable dimensions distracted him.

“I'm free, why you want to meet up and go to town?”

Zak instead offered to meet up down the bowling alley, a frequent hanging out spot for the local teenage population. The alley, situated only a short walk from Finns house, was owned by local businessman Ted Parker, notorious for having a no-shit attitude towards badly behaved children and yobs. As it was in the more central area of town, Finn decided to jog the distance. On the way, once again his mind filled with Marisa. He simply couldn't get her out of his system.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

Marisa tossed and turned, her clammy bedsheets sticking to her body. There was little in the way of glorious sunshine filling her room with light, instead the gloomy grey did little to brighten her mood. She slowly clambered out of bed. Her mind was far too clouded, much like the weather, and she headed down stairs for a late breakfast, prepared lovingly by her Mother. Marisa strolled into the brightly lit kitchen, where her Mother sat reading a paper.

“Hey, sweetie, you look awful!”

Marisa only replied with a grunt.

“What happened with that Tony boy you told me about? Are you two not talking?”

“No, Mum,” Marisa snapped. At 17, Marisa was hard to distinguish from girls much older than herself. A svelte size 10 and a capacious chest led many, including the local barman, to believe she was of a more mature age. Marisa was popular, for some she was simply far too well known and unapproachable. Not one to shy away from skimpy outfits and the revealing of her cleavage, she never failed to attract attention, however usually it was of the less desirable kind. Marisa knew her looks wouldn't last forever, and she knew that to really find the right man for her, she needed to find one who could see past her exterior. However for Marisa image and popularity was always important, and such was her desire to maintain her image that she hid many of her interests, a keen bookworm and flute player was never going to be someone held in high regard when it came to the cut throat nature of the social system of a common high school. Reveal too much and one became a target for the voluminous bullying and attacking that ashamedly occurred in the local comprehensive. Deep down, despite her image concerns and flaunting of sexuality, Marisa was a gifted and sensitive girl. It would take a man of equal sensitivity and homogeneous characteristics to make the true loving connection so deeply required.

Her phone beeped, a text from her best friend Sarah and Marisa was quickly back upstairs. Thirty-five minutes, one shower, a quick going over with her hair straighteners and a dash of perfume later, Marisa was out the door, ignorant of her Mothers calls. She breathed deeply and inhaled the Spring air, it was moist for it had rained in the night.

She arrived at number thirty-five Jonas Avenue fifteen minutes late. Sarah's mother answered the bell, still in her pink flowing dressing-gown, her hair in a net.

“Oh, Marisa dear! I'll just get Sarah!”

“Thanks Mrs Morgan,” Marisa replied, as she held her hands together palms face down.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

The pins were erect, and almost elegant, it was as if they were aware of the inevitability of their fall and destruction, and were determined to make their last stand defiant and brave. Audacious as he was, Finn had little of the elegance the pins possessed, nor for that matter beautiful Marisa. A sharp crack pierced the anticipation as the ball smacked the wood, gasps emitting from the mouths of the eager adolescents. It drifted, swaying side to side, leaving everything to the imagination as to where it might end up. Sadly for Finn, the ball drifted too far to the left, and “Gutterball!” flashed upon the display board.

Finn walked away, punched the air and high fived Zak. He didn't care he had not scored, he had fans watching him and that was enough to inflate the ego. He quickly eyed up the small crowd, and suddenly he was aware of a presence and his eyes ceased movement when he made contact with a girl. Incredibly beautiful, Marisa stood out. They made a fleeting eye contact but suddenly

“I WIN!”

Zak playfully shoved Finn who responded with a gentle smack across the face only a friend could get away with. The two grappled momentarily and as Finn glanced back up the small fan base had dispersed and along with it Marisa. He had not even managed a hello and his cheeks flushed scarlet.