Summer Story

[MarieK]

Re: Summer Story

<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: gullygirl</div><div class="ubbcode-body">“No, no,” she said evenly, stepping out of her skirt. “No, you a go [censored] me. Right here. And mi no waa no likkle wishy washy bizniz needa. Memba how yuh neahly strangle mi to deat likkle while ago? Well a dat kinda feeling mi waa. Right yahso, right now.”


gwaan tru, Sarah.. get yours my girl.. [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/notworthy.gif[/img]


</div></div>

freak

[Nunya]

Re: Summer Story

You can relate, nuh chroo? [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70365-flirt.gif[/img]

[BlessedLadyOfZion]

Re: Summer Story

I WISH U WOULD HURRY UP [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/rolleyes.gif[/img]

[Nunya]

Re: Summer Story

...Z yelled at her man...

[BlessedLadyOfZion]

Re: Summer Story

since when yuh tun mi man? [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70402-thinking.gif[/img]

[Nunya]

Re: Summer Story

since yuh keep hounding me to [censored] finish [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/whatever.gif[/img]

[BlessedLadyOfZion]

Re: Summer Story

Ok. stop de long talkin an deal wid de ting [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70409-waytogo.gif[/img]

[Kimberley24]

Re: Summer Story

I have a headache i don't like how this going. Why it have to happen like that [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/cry.gif[/img]

[Nunya]

Re: Summer Story

Chapter XIX

Myrtle had forgotten a skein of ribbon she’d found at the market earlier that day. She wanted to show it to her mother and get her opinion on using it to dress the stem of the wineglasses. The colour was perfect, the width just right. Should she intersperse the colours? Or just stay with the colour that had drawn her eyes from across the road? It had been important enough and the time had been short enough to warrant her driving back to the house. She hoped Pablo would be home by the time she returned, she wanted his opinion too.

She’d run from the car, and into the house, wondering where it was that she’d left the ribbon. But as soon as her mind told her to check the bathroom, the sounds coming from it drew her. She felt her steps getting slower, her heart screaming at her to turn back, pretend like she’d never been here. Who cared about a piece of ribbon anyway? She had so many other things to do. She needed to be home, now! Her mother needed her, there were wedding preparations that needed seeing to. She was needed.

But her legs weren’t listening, they moved forward, slowly and heavily, but forward. She wanted to put out her arms, grab onto the furniture she passed, the door, the walls, anything to slow her down, to stop her. But onward she went, the distance seemingly interminable, as were the tears that streamed down her face. For she knew.

She stopped inside the room, just inside, holding onto the doorjamb, her eyes, through a sea of tears, seeing what her mind already knew but her heart had refused to believe. She was numb, incapable of moving or crying out. She could not attract their attention; the attention that seemed wholly focused on each other.

Myrtle wanted to be detached, she wanted to not feel. She wanted to know what to do. As her eyes drifted over her sister’s legs wrapped around her fiancé’s slim hips, and the flexing of his gluteus, she felt like her inside was being seared with a hot knife, slowly and exquisitely painfully. She could take it no more and her eyes drifted down and there was the skein of ribbon that had fallen from her purse. A small cry escaped her, whether it was a tremulous gladness for having found the ribbon that had attracted her from across the street at the busy market, or whether it was a cry for what it was meant for, she did not know. But the cry accomplished something else, it broke her from her inertia and alerted the couplers to her presence.

“Oh God,” Sarah said her mouth open on an orgasm and the realization that they’d been caught. Her legs were trembling and were refusing her effort to unwrap them from around his waist. She watched Myrtle grab something bright and shiny from the vanity and turn, stumbling.

“Myr, stop,” she cried out. Her legs finally obeyed and unfolded. But Pablo hoisted her back.

“No,” she cried, pushing against him. “No, let me go!”

“No,” he moaned fighting to get back in. “I…”

“Myrtle,” Sarah managed to grit out. “Myrtle, see we! Myrtle!”

His rhythm was interrupted and he was confused. Now was not the time to…

“Myrtle!” Sarah cried, her eyes streaming, her trembling hand pointing to the door. “Myrtle.”

Pablo’s eyes met her’s and understanding dawned. He stumbled backwards, his pants and underwear entangling his legs. He fell and cracked the back of his head sharply on the edge of the enamel tub. He was momentarily stunned and Sarah began to scream at him.

“Git up! Go afta har! Quick, git up man, git up mi say!”

And he was motivated to move, he struggled to right himself, pulling his pants up, running uncoordinatingly from the bathroom, crashing into the door and the furniture before making outside. There he saw Myrtle behind the wheel of the car her mother had bought for the family, the car that he normally drove to work with Mr. Joe, the car that he’d left today, because she, his precious bride-to-be had many last minute things to do.

“Myrtle!” he called stumbling down the steps and rushing to the car. Her head was bent, one hand on the steering wheel, her face in so much pain, he felt he would die. He was almost at the front of the car when Myrtle finally managed to get the key into the ignition despite her terribly shaking hand. She turned it and put the car into drive, slamming on the gas and cursing the thump she heard and felt, she put the car in reverse and slammed on the gas again, in so much hurry to get out of this yard and away from them. But she banged something and she laughed hysterically, wondering what her mother would say about the dents and scratches that would surely be marring the finish. She was almost turned enough to drive out of the yard and so she slammed the car into drive and pressed the gas pedal. And out of the corner of her eye she saw a hand, palm spread on her window and she screamed and slammed on the brakes, hearing a sickening crunch as the hand, palm pressed to the glass, its lines so familiar and dear to her, dragged down and out of site.

She was retching, she couldn’t find the park. She was moving from the car, while it moved and she had to find the park. She found it just as her sister raced out of the house and stood staring in horror at the driver’s door of the car, or maybe something that laid in the area of the door.

Myrtle sat there, shaking so much she felt she would never stop. She sat staring at her sister staring at something. And she could not look down. She could not see it, see him beneath the wheels of the car.

The sounds from her sister were high and loud and long. And Myrtle was shaking her head, slowly at first, then faster and faster. No, no. He couldn’t be. Not him. Not her baby. Not the man who was to be her husband.

Sarah was next to the car, pulling and tugging, screaming as she did so. And all the while Myrtle sat in the car, her head going from side to side. If she denied it long enough, it surely wouldn’t be. But Sarah, needed her to move and she screamed at her sister, “Yuh kill im! Yuh kill Pablo! Oh God, yuh kill im!”

[BlessedLadyOfZion]

Re: Summer Story

gimi one more fe tek to lunch [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/hungry.gif[/img]

[seemiyah]

Re: Summer Story

She should back up and run over Sarah to! Serve him right!

[Kimberley24]

Re: Summer Story

That is what mi deh here thinking. Just drive over her baxide to!!!

[Bandana]

Re: Summer Story

OH MY GOD!


\o/


[img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/crybaby.gif[/img]

[R00TS]

Re: Summer Story

[img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70384-praying.gif[/img]beggin ya dont kill im Nunya!!

[delawaregrl]

Re: Summer Story

Keep writing Nunya please!!! [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70384-praying.gif[/img]