Ahlephia's Top 50 Favourite Horror Movies

The time has come to reveal my personal Top 50 Favourite Horror Movies.  Now, I don't expect everyone to agree with my choices simply because my choices are just that; Mine.  I will not condone anyone personally attacking over this list.  These are my most watched and loved horror films.  If you don't like it, suck it up princess.

I hope you enjoy this list and find something on here that peaks your interest as well.

Rhiannon Elizabeth Irons


50)  THE KILLAGE (2011) - Australian comedy/horror that makes fun of all the stereotypes that appear within horror films of the past.

49)  THE FINAL (2010) - The bullied kids from school finally get their revenge....but at what cost.

48)  CHILD'S PLAY (1988) - Charles Lee Ray (Brad Dourif) places his soul into the body of a doll...yeah, nothing bad can come of that.....right?

47)  CARRIE (1976) - Hell have no fury like a woman scorned....especially a woman out of the mind of Stephen King.

46)  SESSION 9 (2001) - A vastly underrated film that ups the creep factor better then most paranormal movies. A must see film.

45)  HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL (1999) - A remake makes the list!  With Geoffrey Rush and Jeffrey Combs, this remake can hold it's own.

44)  THE AMITYVILLE HORROR (1976) - A house with a dark past, this film certainly a must watch.

43)  THE DENTIST (1996) - Millions of people are terrified of the dentist...watch this and you'll join that list.

42)  THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT (1999) - The only found footage movie I've ever truly enjoyed but it comes with a warning; you may get a splitting headache from watching.

41)  WAXWORK (1988) - A museum of wax figures sucking people into the scenes until they become part of the set....not as stupid as it sounds. Enjoyable B Grade movie.

40)  TERROR TRAIN (1980) - Jamie Lee Curtis on a train with a killer...oh, and an appearance by famed magician David Copperfield.

39)  SNOWTOWN (2011) - A terrifying film based on true events - and it's Australian.

38)  SCREAM (1996) - Don't answer the door, don't leave the house, don't answer the phone, but most of all, don't SCREAM!

37)  FRIDAY THE 13TH (1980) - Mrs. Voorhees sliced and diced her way to fame at a simple camp before making way for Jason.

36)  THE UGLY (1997) - One of the creepiest and best New Zealand films around.  A real mindfuck.

35)  BEHIND THE MASK: THE RISE OF LESLIE VERNON (2006) - Jason, Freddy, Myers. We All Need Someone To Look Up To.  

34)  WES CRAVEN'S NEW NIGHTMARE (1994) - Freddy's back, bigger and better then he had been for years.

33)  LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT (1972) - Gritty, violent and truly terrifying.

32)  I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE (1978) - Raw, fifthly, terrifying, gritty and above all, delivers one hell of a nightmare.

31)  PATRICK (1978) - Aussie horror gets a new name....and it's Patrick.

30)  THE CRAFT (1996) - Witches with an alterer motive messing with magic too powerful for them would always end in horror.

29)  JOHN CARPENTER'S THE WARD (2010) - John Carpenter's a fantastic director but he is a little hit and miss. This film sees him back to his best.

28)  RAZORBACK (1984) - A giant pig terrorizing the Australian outback.  Campy but fun.  It's Jaws on trotters.

27)  THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE (1974) - The birth of one of horrors most iconic villains - Leatherface.

26)  MISERY (1991) - One word: Sledgehammer

25) I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER (1997) - Muse Watson as The Fisherman has mentally scarred me for life but for a 90's film, it still holds its own with a star-studded cast.

24)  URBAN LEGEND (1998) - A killer on campus butchering people based on Urban Legends....now you know where my inspiration for my short horror stories came from.

23)  AMERICAN PSYCHO (2001) - Christian Bale unhinged and naked?  I'm in for that.

22)  POLTERGEIST (1982) - "They're here!"

21)  CANDYMAN (1992) - "Candyman, Candyman, Candyman, Candyman....."  Do you dare say his name again?

20)  HATCHET (2006) - A throw back to the horror movies of old, this franchise created a whole new super villain in Victor Crowley.

19)  WILLARD (2007) - Crispin Glover is a very underrated actor, but when he took the lead in this remake, great things were bound to happen.  Check it out.

18)  THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA (1989) - Robert Englund as the Phantom in this version based on the book.  I enjoyed the feel of this film as I'm sure you will too.

17)  THE REEF (2010) - The Australian version of Jaws that certainly proved itself worthy.  Real life shark footage inter-graded with the actors for one outstanding, high tension movie. 

16)  THE EXORCIST (1973) - Demonic possession has never been so popular.  Linda Blair was outstanding.

15)  COMPOUND FRACTURE (2013) - Three horror icons (Tyler Mane, Muse Watson and Derek Mears), one movie.  Enough said.

14)  RE-ANIMATOR (1985) - Jeffrey Combs as mad scientist, Herbert West.  Bringing people and things back to life is just down right creepy.

13)  DEAD RINGERS (1988) - Jeremy Irons in his only horror movie role to date....or should I say roles?  Either way, he was one set of creepy twins.

12)  DEAD AND BURIED (1981) - A new take on the term "zombies"

11) WOLF CREEK (2005) - Aussie horror reclaimed the spotlight with the frightening tale of Mick Taylor.

10)  THE LOVED ONES (2009) - "Am I not pretty enough?"

9)  AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON (1981) - The best werewolf film in my opinion.

8)  NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET (1984) - So the ending sucked, but it gave birth to a terrifying dream demon.

7)  JAWS (1975) - "You're gonna need a bigger boat."

6)  BLACK WATER (2007) - "Three cheeky monkeys, sitting in a tree.  Teasing Mr. Crocodile, "You can't catch me."  Up swam Mr. Crocodile, quiet as quiet can be.  SNAP."

5)  INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE (1994) - Vampires got a bad rep, but Tom Cruise as Lestat can never be passed over.

4)  INSIDE (2007) - If La Femme doesn't freak you out, you have no soul.

3)  TRICK 'R TREAT (2007) - One of the best anthology movies around....with some pretty good lessons to be learned.

2)  PSYCHO (1960) - "We all go a little mad sometimes."

1)  HALLOWEEN (1978) - Psycho may have given birth to the slasher genre, but it was Halloween that gave us the boogeyman. 

Flowers In Bloom

Keeping old journals really pays off.  This poem was written by me back when I was just seven years old.  I thought I'd share it with you.

Rhiannon Elizabeth Irons


Can you see the flowers in bloom?
Can you smell their sweet scent?
Can you see the majestic colours
Dancing about in the breeze?

The roses and violets sway gently about
Their leaves glistening beneath the summer sun
And as the sun disappears behind a cloud
The flowers in bloom rejoice

The summer rains falls
The scent is intoxicating
The flowers in bloom reach for the sky
Drinking in every last drop

The buttercups and lilies are beautiful to see
Their colours are the symbol of harmony
Sunshine yellow and stunning pink
The purity of white causes you to blink

The flower in bloom in a garden so grand
Really makes you appreciate the life we have
The flowers in bloom cause us to smile
A carefree world without a single worry

As the rain slides down the stems
The flowers in bloom slowly bend
With the gentle summer breeze behind them
It is time for sleep

And as the season change
And winter rolls around
The flowers in bloom will disappear
But will return with spring soon

Dreams

Thunder rumbles
Rain pours
Lightning strikes
And yet I sleep
My eyes sealed closed
My mind escaping reality
Into a world of fantasy
A place of desires
And wonders
A place where happiness
Is all around
A place where misery has no business
A place of dreams

In my dreams
I am whatever I want to be
If I want to fly
I can
If I want to be famous
I can
If I want to be curled up
In your arms
Purring like a kitten
I can

Dreams allow me peace
They give me ideas
Stories, poems, songs
Are all born from my dream world

Thunder rumbles
Rain pours
Lightning strikes
And yet I sleep
My eyes closed for the night
A single stream of pale moonlight
Breaks through the curtains
Over my face
I roll over
And begin to dream again

Where Did We Go Wrong?

As I sit here and stare
At the writings of my life
I've come to realize
That my darkness is bright
I'm surrounded and lost
But I'll find my way
All we do is argue
But that will change today

I'm trying to make it better
I'm giving you my all
And I won't stop trying
To be your baby doll

Where did we go wrong?
When did we fall?
Will we be able to start fresh
Once again stand tall?
How did we get like this
Where all we do is fight?
I cannot handle the stress anymore
I want to make it right

I feel as though you don't hear
What I have to say
You dismiss my feelings
Causing me so much pain
And as I sit here and cry
Tears I shed for you
I wonder how much longer
I can see this through

I don't want to give up
I don't want to walk away
Maybe the sun will be out tomorrow
The start of a brand new day

Where did we go wrong?
When did we fall?
Will we be able to start fresh
Once again stand tall?
How did we get like this
Where all we do is fight?
I cannot handle the stress anymore
I want to make it right

Just tell me what to do
And I'll do my best
To see it through
Because I still love you

Where did we go wrong?
When did we fall?
Will we be able to start fresh
Once again stand tall?
How did we get like this?
Where all we do is fight?
I cannot handle the stress anymore
I want to make it right

I want to make it right
No more stupid fights
I want to feel like I belong
So tell me where did we go wrong?

Why

Lately I've begun to wonder why
Why don't you use my nickname when you greet me anymore?
Why do we always wind up arguing?
Why do our conversations turn us against each other?

Lately I've begun to wonder why
Why do we seem so stressed around each other?
When did this good thing we have turn bad?
How did we become these people?

Lately I've begun to wonder why
Why have things gotten so bad between us?
Why do I want to run everytime I see you?
Why do I feel like I'm no longer loved?

Lately I've begun to wonder why
Why do I end up in tears whenever we talk?
Why do I feel like everything's my fault?
Why do we constantly fight?

Lately I've begun to wonder why
Why are we doing this to ourselves?
Why am I suddenly no longer happy?
What can I do to change it?

Nothing I say or do
Ever seems right by you
I can't help but feel
Like I should just give up on us

Should I give up?
Should I pack my bags and leave?
Should I move on?
I wonder what would happen if I did

Would you chase me
Telling me I'm the one for you?
Or would you let me go
And leave me wondering what if?

Am I worth fighting for?
Or am I just kidding myself?
Because I certainly don't feel like I am
So can you answer me why?

Rhiannon

Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night
And wouldn't you love to love her
She takes to the sky like a bird in flight
And who will be her lover

All your life you've never seen
A woman taken by the wind
Would you stay if she promised you heaven
Will you ever win

She is like a cat in the dark
And then she is the darkness
She rules her life like a fine skylark
And when the sky is starless

All your life you've never seen
A woman taken by the wind
Would you stay if she promised you heaven
Will you ever win

RhiannonRhiannon
Rhiannon

She rings like a bell through the night
And wouldn't you love to love her
She rules her life like a bird in flight
And who will be her lover
All your life you've never seen
A woman taken by the wind
Would you stay if she promised you heaven
Will you ever win

Rhiannon
Rhiannon
Rhiannon

Taken by, taken by the sky
Taken by, taken by the sky
Taken by, taken by the sky

Dreams unwind
Love's a state of mind

Recipe: Special Fried Rice

I'm back with another recipe that's completely idiot proof.  This works perfectly as a side dish (team it with a steak or grilled chicken) or as a meal on its own.  Either way, it's tasty.


What You Need

1/3 cup Peanut Oil (plus an extra tbsp)
3 Eggs, lightly beaten
2 Cloves of Garlic, chopped
1 tsp finely chopped Ginger
4 Spring Onions, 3 chopped, 1 sliced
300g Chicken Thigh Fillets, thinly sliced
100g Rindless Bacon, chopped
2 tbsp Dry Sherry
2 tsp White Sugar
1/4 cup Light Soy Sauce
1/2 tsp Sesame Oil
4 cups cooked Jasmine Rice
100g Green Beans, thinly sliced
1/4 cup Basil Leaves

What To Do

1) Heat 1 tbsp peanut oil in a wok or frying pan over high heat, add eggs and swirl quickly to coat.  Cook for about 1 min, then slide omelette out of pan, chop roughly and set aside.

2) Heat remaining peanut oil and cook garlic, ginger and chopped onion over high heat for 1 min, until softened.  Add chicken and stir-fry for 2 mins, until golden.  Add bacon and stir-fry for 1 min.

3) Combine sherry, sugar, soy sauce and sesame oil in a small jug.  Pour into wok, add rice and green beans and stir-fry for 2 mins, until coated and heated through.  Stir egg through.  Transfer to a platter.

4) Heat extra peanut oil in a small frying pan and cook basil leaves for 1 min, until crisp.  Arrange on top of fried rice and serve.

How To Host A Murder: The Red Rose Murders

Don’t worry, this isn’t a step by step guide teaching you how to actually kill someone with a red rose, but rather an insight into the world of murder mystery games.  I also assure you that none of my friends were harmed in the writing of this article…or on the night in question.

On April 20, 2013 I, Rhiannon Elizabeth Irons, hosted an evening of fun, food and murder.  The theme was THE RED ROSE MURDERS.

“In the dog-eat-dog world of 1950’s Hollywood, there’s only room for one top-dog – and he’s the cigar-chomping agent to the stars, Rick Toad.  So when he’s found dead in suspicious circumstances, floating face-down in the swimming pool of his mansion, surrounded by a hundred scattered red roses, the whole film world is shocked to its core.

There’s no business like show business, they say, but when it comes to murder, a suspect is just a suspect.  And one, or more, of Rick Toad’s illustrious clients is about to get fingered for killing the most powerful man in entertainment.”

And this is where the fun begins…

This evening, with the help of my mother and boyfriend, we decorated the house to give it a 1950’s feel, adding scattered rose petals to the green table cloth and leaf cuttings from my garden.  Rose scented candles added to the atmosphere, giving the illusion bought on by the significance of the red roses in the game.

Seeing as this was supposed to be a cocktail party, I broke out the Martini and Scotch glasses, insisting that my guest fit in with the theme.  Cocktail spring rolls and dim sims were served along with baby queshes, mini sausage rolls and mini mince pies.  For dessert, mini chocolate tarts and a fresh fruit salad were served alongside a bowl of whipped cream.  (A special note; a huge thank you to my mother who spent two days helping me prepare the food as well as making the mini queshes and chocolate tarts)

Now onto the characters.

Each person who attended was giving a different character.  To a degree, all the characters have shady facts about themselves, but only one is guilty of murder.  The characters for the game of THE RED ROSE MURDERS are listed below:

MARILYN MANSFIELD (played by me): The blonde bombshell whose flamboyant life both on – and off-screen has delighted the gossip columnists for years.

ROCK HOUSTON (played by Jasmine): Rugged, rough and rowdy, Houston was the biggest male star of them all, the ultimate in American masculinity; now he’s going into politics and talking about running for the presidency.

MARLON MEAN (played by Rachel): The most famous teenager in the world, Mean is actually 27-years-old now, but he’s still making a career out of screen rebellion.

PRINCESS KELLY OF RURITANIA (played by Amber): Before her marriage to the Crown Prince, the most eligible bachelor in Europe, Princess Kelly was simple Kelly Kennedy, the sophisticated star of romantic comedies.

MADAME VELDA (played by Laura): Clairvoyant to the stars, she has been a familiar figure in Hollywood circles for many years, predicting the future with surprising accuracy.

WAYNE FONDA (played by Neil): Also known as the Hillbilly Hero, Fonda is a rock and roll singer who might just cut it in the movies.

MAE VEST (played by Christina): Author, actress and activist, Miss Vest is seldom seen without a devoted young man on her arm, a glass of champagne in her hand, and quip on her lips.

SALVADOR DILLY-DALLY (played by The Hand): Europe’s most famous surrealist artist has come to Hollywood to work in the movies, and to make his fortune. 

Special note: Madame Velda and Salvador Dilly-Dally were both extra characters for this game– should you only have six people in attendance, these two can be left out.  Should you have more than eight people in attendance, the others can form a jury and voice their opinions at the end of each round.  You'll be surprised at how much more they pick up without having to play a character of their own.

Now, you may be scratching your head wondering how these very different people are connected, but believe me, they are.  For you see, each of these characters have something to do with the deceased man, Rick Toad.  From being his favorite star, to part of an affair to remember, to his rival, each character has some connection with him.  And it’s these connections that are the reason these people are all together, trying to solve this crime.  Everyone is a suspect because everyone had a motive.

The game itself is simple.  There is a CD with a detective who takes us through the introduction.  Then the characters, as per the script provided, introduce themselves, keeping certain details from ever being disclosed.  Then we move into round 1, which is a simple piece of dialogue before we begin revealing secret clues and accusing each other of murder as well other pieces of information that is stored in each of our booklets.

Once we've finished and everyone has had their turn, the CD detective returns to sum up that round.  Then we repeat the process two more times for rounds 2 and 3.  At the end of round 3 we have our version of events which is our last chance to claim our innocence.  Then before we return to the detective, we go around the table one last time and everyone has a chance to decide who they think the killer is.  Once everyone has spoken their piece, we press play one more time for the detective to reveal who the killer is along with the motive and opportunity.

Now, while each dialogue set is probably only 5 minutes long at the most, always set aside between 3 and 5 hours to play the game.  Especially if you're with my group of friends as we're usually conducting a trial midway through, pointing fingers at each other, shouting that "so and so is guilty because of these reasons" as well as eating and so forth.  It really is a life-like CLUE moment.  If you were ever a fan of the board game, the movie or the books, then I highly recommend hosting one of these games because it really is a great deal of fun.

So, how did it end?  I'm not going to say.  I don't want to spoil the chance for you to play the same game and have the same amount of fun that we did.  But I do warn you, a lot of the booklets have a hidden sense of humor that you will be using against certain characters all evening.

But I will say this; to Christina, Laura, Amber, Rachel, Neil and Jasmine, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for attending this night.  You each made it fun and gave your characters a life.  I can’t wait to do this again with you all soon.  I’ll be in touch.

Recipe: Boeuf Bourguignon

By now you've all established that I love food.  So today I thought I'd give you something that's a little more complicated to make but is so yummy that it's worth the prep and cook time of two hours and forty-five minutes.  Ladies and gentlemen, I present Boeuf Bourguignon.


What You Need
280g baby brown onions
2 tablespoons olive oil
2kg gravy beef, trimmed, chopped
30g butter
2 cloves garlic, crushed
4 rindless bacon slices (260g), chopped coarsely
400g button mushrooms, halved
¼ cup (35g) plain (all-purpose) flour
1¼ cups (310ml) beef stock
2½ cups (625ml) dry red wine
2 bay leaves
2 sprigs fresh thyme
½ cup coarsely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

What You Do

1) Peel onions, leaving root end intact so onion remains whole during cooking.

2) Heat oil in a large flameproof dish; cook beef, in batches, until browned. Remove from pan.

3) Add butter to dish; cook onions, garlic, bacon and mushrooms, stirring, until onions brown lightly.

4) Sprinkle flour over onion mixture; cook, stirring, until flour mixture thickens and bubbles. Gradually add stock and wine; stir over heat until mixture boils and thickens.

5) Return beef and any juices to dish, add bay leaves and thyme; bring to the boil. Reduce heat; simmer, covered, about 2 hours or until beef is tender, stirring every 30 minutes. Remove from heat; discard bay leaves. Stir in parsley. 

Game Over

“You’ve got to be fucking shitting me!”

Ali slammed her palm down on the desk as she stared at the computer screen in disgust.  She had been happily chatting to her boyfriend online when he decided to leave her to play a game of Battlefield 3.

Now she was staring at the screen in disbelief, his comments ceasing as he logged off.

Oh sure, she had said “It’s fine.  Go play,” but deep down inside she was furious.  This was their communication time and he blew her off for a video game.  What?  Was he fucking insane? 

She picked up her cell phone.  She was going to give this prick a piece of her mind. 

Before she dialed his number she went back through the entire conversation they had.  He had asked her if it was okay for him to go and play twice.  Ali always felt guilty when he did that.  She felt like she couldn’t say “Well, actually that is a problem because I want to talk to you,” so instead she was like “Fine.”

Fine.

All men know that’s a dangerous word coming from a woman.  Fine always meant there was nothing good going to come from it.

Why couldn’t chat rooms have an emotional font to allow a guy to understand when his girlfriend is pissed off at him?  Or when she’s upset?  Or when she truly is fine?  Or how about a font that diagnoses when she’s sending words begrudgingly because she doesn’t want to look like a total bitch?

Ali put down the phone.  It wasn’t fair to berate him over this when she didn’t exactly say that she wanted him to stay.  And he did say he’d only be gone an hour.  Surely there was something around her house that could entertain her for an hour.

She walked away from her computer and turned on the TV.  Flipping through the channels, Ali came across some horror movie.  Tossing the remote aside, Ali propped her head up on her chin and watched with interest as the girl on screen struggled to free herself from the predicament that she was in.

An hour later, Ali checked her computer.  Her boyfriend still hadn’t returned.  Turning back to the film, Ali began to fume silently.  Maybe she should have called him and screamed at him.

She soon got swept up in the movie as this girl fought for her life.  She had to refrain from rolling her eyes as she realized that this girl was playing a game of life or death with a deranged lunatic.  As the credits began to roll, Ali realized that he still hadn’t returned.  “Must be a good game,” she muttered angrily.

Grabbing her car keys, Ali made her way downstairs and out to her car.  It was cold outside, despite the sunshine.  That wind was like ice hitting her body.  Ali shivered and wrapped her arms around her body to keep warm as she hurried across the snow filled parking lot to her beat up Mustang. 

She loved her old car.  Her boyfriend had promised to restore it to its former glory but sadly he hadn’t done a thing to it in over a year.  Instead he was more concerned with how many lives he could kill in his stupid video game.

Shoving the keys into the lock, Ali ripped open the door with a loud creak.  Her anger hadn’t subsided.  If anything she was more pissed off as she climbed into the car and started it.  The engine rumbled and spluttered. 

Ali slammed the door closed.  She thought he would have learned his lesson the first time he had done this.  The first time he left her to play stupid Battlefield, she had gone on a rant online, asking what the appeal of the game was and why a guy would blow her off to play it.  He had reacted hurt to what she had done, telling her she was way more important and from now on she came first.  He would never leave her to play another round of anything without her express permission.

Turning the corner, Ali sighed.  Because she didn’t want to seem like an uber bitch, she had given him that permission.  She felt tears building behind her eyes.  She had only herself to blame.  Guilt replaced anger as she wondered if storming his house was the best thing to do.

Pulling up a set of traffic lights, Ali glanced down at her phone.  No missed calls.  No messages.  Nothing from him at all.  He did say he was only going to be gone an hour and it was now boarding on two.  Clearly he was more interested in this video game then he was her.

Her anger returned.  How hard would it be for him to send her a message like “Honey, I’m engrossed at the moment.  I’ll call you later and make it up to you when I see you next time.”  Sure, she still would have been hurting but at least she would know that she was still on his mind and that he would make it up to her later. 

She drove through the quiet streets of his neighborhood, watching as children played in the snow out the front of their houses.

Pulling up in his driveway, she glanced at the house.  It was dark, the curtains drawn and all the windows closed.  She sighed, clucking her tongue.  Why couldn’t this be easy?

She climbed out of her car, locking it as she made her way up the driveway, scanning the exterior for any signs of life.  The dog next door barked at her as she knocked on the front door.  No answer.

Ali walked around the side of the house to where his bedroom was.  The curtains were pulled but not closed entirely.  Standing precariously on a firewood pile, Ali stretched, clinging to the window frame, attempting to see inside the house.

There he was.  Her boyfriend was sitting at his computer, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he watched the screen intently.

Huffing a little, Ali climbed down from her perch atop the firewood pile and made her way to the back door.  Both her boyfriend and his two roommates were notorious for leaving the door closed but unlocked.

Ali turned the handle and the door swung open.  Typical, she thought, rolling her eyes as she entered the kitchen.

It was so much warmer inside the house then what it was outside.  Ali quickly removed her jacket and scarf and cupped her hands around the kettle to thaw them out a little.

Once her hands were warm, Ali made her way down the hall towards his room.  Poking her head in the door, she could see how engrossed he was.  He was shouting at the screen, cursing when something went wrong and chugging down energy drinks like they were going out of style.

Ali sat on the corner of his bed, wondering if he had even noticed her enter his room.  Judging from the triumphant yell, he hadn’t.

Sighing loudly, Ali looked around his room, disgusted at how unkempt it was.  Boxes lined the floor, filled with clothes and shoes.  His trash can that sat beside his desk looked like it hadn’t been emptied in months and there was a rather offensive odor hanging around.

Then she saw it out the corner of her eye.  His lucky baseball bat, discarded into one of the boxes.  Her hand swept over the smooth wood, feeling the different grains.

“Yes!”

Her head snapped up as she looked at him.  He still hadn’t noticed her appearance.  Blowing her off for a game was one thing, but Ali certainly did not like being ignored. 

Clutching the baseball bat in her hands, Ali stood up and moved behind him.  With one swift strike, he fell from his chair and hit the floor with a thud.

*     *     *     *     *     *

Eric’s eyes opened slowly.  Everything was out of focus and his head hurt.  What hit him?  And more importantly, what was that smell?  Was that…gas?

He tried to move, but he couldn’t.  His arms felt weighted down.  He moved his head from side to side, trying to understand what was happening. 

His arms were tied outstretched, as were his legs.  Four long ropes were tied to each limb as he stood in the center of his room.

A disturbing static noise caused him to turn his head to the computer screen.  It was snowy, black and white lines ran over the screen before an image appeared.  It was an image of his girlfriend.

“Hi Eric,” Ali said, her brown eyes glistening as she focused the camera on her face.  “I know you like playing games so I’ve got a good one for you.  It’s called Live or Die.  The rules are simple.  I’ll ask you a question.  If you get it right, we move onto the next round.  If you get it wrong….”  Her voice trailed off. 

“If I get it wrong then what?” Eric demanded, tugging on the restraints.

“Then you lose more than just a round.  You’ll pay with your blood.”

Eric let out a scream, frantically tugging on the ropes.  He had hoped that the ropes would be old and frail that simply tugging on them would cause them to fray and simply fall apart.  Sadly, this wasn’t the case as Ali had used something new to keep him bound.

“First question: What did you do wrong in the last twenty-four hours?”

Eric stopped struggling long enough to scream, “I don’t fucking know you crazy bitch!”

Ali clucked her tongue.  “Ooh sorry, babe.  That was the wrong answer.”

Eric screamed in pain as the rope around his left arm began pulling tightly, stretching his limb before popping it from the shoulder.  With another quick tug, his left arm fell from his body, blood spurting all over his bed, down his side and pooled on the wooden floor.

“Let’s try that again.  Same question.”

Eric looked at the computer screen, studying Ali’s face.  She wasn’t joking.  Her stern expression shook him to the core.  “Ali, I don’t know,” he said, tears falling from his eyes.  “I don’t know.”

“Wrong answer again,” she said, pressing a button on screen.

The rope around his right leg pulled tight.  Eric begged his screen for mercy as a loud popping sound filled his ears.  With a soft thud, his leg fell to the ground, blood spurting from where it use to be attached.

He felt faint.  What’s worse, he knew he was going to lose the two other limbs because he had no idea what she was asking him.

Ali’s disturbing smile returned to the screen as she closed in on the camera.  “OK, how about we try a new question.  What have you done wrong to me in the last three hours?”

Eric shook his head, falling and out of consciousness.  He didn’t know what he had done to her to make her so angry with him.  His head lolled around, his eyes opening to see the blurry screen. 

The screen.

Eric opened his mouth as his focus zoomed in on Battlefield 3 sitting atop his desk, surrounded by papers.

“I left our conversation to play a game,” he asked, breathing hard. 

Ali’s expression softened.  “Correct.”

The rope around his left leg and right arm loosened and Eric collapsed to the floor, growing weaker from the loss of blood.

Ali appeared in his doorway, her dark brown hair falling over her shoulders softly. 

“Help me,” Eric begged, tears streaming down his face.  “Don’t leave me like this.”

Ali’s demented smile returned as she reached out to him, cupping his chin in her hand.  “Sorry, babe,” she said, her teeth clenched. 

She stood up, a match book in hand.  She struck one, watching the amber flame dance on the now black head.

Eric pleaded with her to stop as she tossed the match onto his bed and watched with glee as the room ignited. 

“You better hope you bleed out first,” she told him, turning on her heel and walking back into the hall.  “I hear being burned alive is simply awful.”

“You bitch!” Eric shouted, crawling as best he could to the bedroom door.  “You won’t get away with this!”

Ali turned back, watching him struggling against the heat and blood loss.

“Yes I will,” she replied, slamming his bedroom door shut.

“This game is over.”

The Secret Of Finley Hall

You stay away from that place Tom, there’s nothing but trouble behind those gates.

Tom’s mother’s voice rang through his mind as he peeked through the bushes to the overpowering image that was Finley Hall.

Standing for over two centuries now, the old building was certainly looking its age, the rain of years gone past slowly working its way through breaking down the structure and the dirt and grime clinging to it as if its appearance was always meant to look dark and dingy.

As always in the small town of Finley, the rain poured down and the wind howled through every street and straight into the path of Tom, composing himself for what he saw as the ultimate adventure. For years now he had walked past Finley Hall with his friends gazing as those steel gates wondering what lie beyond them. His friends were possibly the wise ones, refusing any such offerings of a scouting expedition, which left Tom alone in his intrigue.

Following the passing of his father, Tom had gained a new sense of life, realizing that it was way too short and that every opportunity for an adventure or something out of the ordinary should be taken, no matter the risks. His mother had noted this and, despite her constant opposition to Tom’s newfound dynamic side, she was powerless and was resigned to the fact that her son had embraced a new curious side. Of a dinner time she would attempt to rattle home the importance of his safety but to no avail, he wanted to live life to the full and that was exactly what he was going to do, risky or otherwise.

Enter his latest venture, and the prospect of exploring Finley Hall was within his reach.

Wearing his trusty red hoody and a pair of old jeans, Tom found himself drenched in the current weather conditions but this did not deter him from his great mission. Having walked past the place every day on the way to school, he knew exactly how to find a way through those gates and peered through the shrubbery at the left side of the metal fencing and found his entry point. A piece of earth burrowed through just enough to fit his body underneath had been created, whether by man or animal he didn’t care, but it was the perfect start to his exploration. Being a Sunday, Tom knew that the streets would be empty, Finley very much an oldy-worldy town sticking to Sunday traditions of shops being shut and people remaining at home – but tradition had to be broken for such an opportunity.

The street clear and vision slightly impaired by the blitz of rainwater, Tom sprinted across the road and quickly found himself on the water-engulfed mud that led to beyond the barriers of safety. The mud clung to his red hoody like a child clings to their favourite blanket but Tom cared little for the state of his clothing, in favour of a level of excitement he had never felt before. Clambering to his feet, Tom’s heart pounded faster than a boxer who had just won the world title and he felt his body perspiring at a rapid rate – this was his chance to unlock the secrets of a place he had been fixated on for so long.

Reaching into his pocket, whilst still crouching in case of any security, he picked out his father’s trusty pen knife and found the attachment most likely to forge his way through the big wooden gate that lay in his wake. Approaching the door Tom took a deep breath as he reached towards the lock, only to find the door open upon his touch. Taken back by the ease of the task, his next task was to open the door avoiding any alarming noises. Knowing that his frame was slight, he opened the door as little as possible and slid his way through before closing it behind him. 

What met his eyes was even more shocking as to how easy it was to infiltrate what he thought would prove to be an impenetrable fortress. A mass hall lit with eons of candles dangling from chandeliers met his eyes, the orange burn so bright it could have singed through his pupils. For a hall he had thought empty and haunted for years it was a staggering sight.

His instant thought was to escape; clearly someone was residing in the great hall and he would be seen as a trespasser. Turning, he grabbed the door only to find it had somehow locked behind him. His hands became clammy, his pulse raced and sweat began to pour down his forehead as he wiped his brow.

With no choice left, he walked down the empty hall lit so brightly and surveyed the premises. Doors at either corner of the huge room met the corner of each eye as he took the decision to go left. Walking up to the wooden door he felt a sudden brush of heat on his neck and took a massive gulp as he delved further into the realms of this unknown building. Through the door was a swirling staircase heading downwards towards what looked to be yet another fire-lit room. The flames flickered as they created shadows on the wall, yet not signs of anyone whatsoever.

Tom's knees were at the point of shaking as he proceeded into unknown territory and walked into an almost identical grand room. This time his eyes met with something very different; smoke filling the air and fire waving, surrounding a dark and ominous figure upon a stage of some sorts.

"So you've finally arrived. We have been waiting for you Tom." The voice boomed and echoed through the room and hit the very blood within Tom's veins.

"W-What do you want with me? How do you know my name? I just wanted to see what this place was like, I never meant any harm..."
Tom's voice fluttered and his heart raced even faster, sensing he was in for a world full of trouble.

"Tom, it is no coincidence that you stand here before me, it is fate. The treatment you give your family is nothing short of sinful and for that you must feel the consequences."

Tom attempted to take a gulp but found his throat so dry he could not, almost allowing no exit for his words.
"I love my family and they love me. How can you question my love for them when you don't even know me you bastard?!"

Turning, Tom realised he had no escape from this mysterious stranger who seemed to know him so well - his fate was seemingly sealed at the hands of this ominous figure. He faced back round to the dark, omnipotent individual and began to walk towards him. Almost hypnotised by the emerging sight of this 'man', Tom began to peer at the demon-red eyes that graced him and approached a stage filled with fire-lit candles.

"Embrace your fate Tom and you will be rewarded."

Tom's eyes lit up like the flames before him and he reached his hand out, somehow possessed by the emerging sight of this person who seemed to know everything about him. He almost felt uncontrollable in his new-found desire to approach this clearly threatening being but still he edged closer.

Finally reaching the stage, Tom could not believe his eyes, for in front of him stood a vision of eternal menace and death. Standing some 7 feet, the figure possessed eyes blacker than the night sky, and a face paler than the clear moon lighting that sky. Wearing an oversized cloak that hid his body and only revealed his face, the figure felt even more overpowering and overwhelming at closer reach.

His hand embraced that of the stranger and revealed a bony structure, hands that unveiled little indication of inducing further fear, ye Tom remained hypnotic in state.

"The time has come Tom, come with me and your family will forever be saved from the future horrors you will serve them. Curiosity brought you here and how you must follow through to find what you truly desired. Come with me, come with me to the depths of Hell..."

With that, the ground beneath their feet opened up and Tom was swept to even fiery depths as he took the path to the underworld with Death...  

Training Day

Sasha stood in the center of the room, arms folded, her brown eyes studying him with interest as she wet her lips with her pink tongue.  Was he serious?  Had she heard him correctly?

“Are you deaf?” he demanded, his dark eyes narrowing. 

“You want me to what?” Sasha questioned, unable to hide the surprise and disgust in her voice.

With two quick strides he had crossed the room and grabbed a fist full of her hair.  “I said ‘Suck it’” he snarled, his lips brushing against her ear as he began applying pressure, forcing her downwards, until she found herself resting on her knees before him. 

Her hands trembled as she unzipped his pants, releasing him to the coolness of the room.  She glanced back up at him and caught the look in his eye.  Licking her lips, she stared at his swollen member, her hand stroking it.  With a soft sigh she engulfed it, her tongue running around the head as she forced as much of his shaft into her mouth as she could.

Sasha bobbed up and down, one hand holding the base of his rock hard cock while the other played with his balls, cupping them before squeezing them gently. 

His hand was still entangled in her hair.  Sasha could feel the force of his palm on the top of her head.  She moaned softly, pulling away from him. 

Her tongue tickled the underside of his cock, teasing the tip of the head before taking his full length into her mouth.  She could hear his startled gasp as she worked her magic, teasing him.  She finally had control of the situation.

Sasha cried out as his grip on her hair tightened as he pulled her away from him. 

“Naughty girl,” he said with an arrogant tone. 

Still holding her hair, he pulled her over to the bed.  He reached out and flicked the corner of a sheet revealing toys and restraints.

Her mouth felt dry as he forced her to stand before he removed her clothing.  Once she was naked, he reached down and grabbed the black leather collar.  Carefully he placed it around her neck, fastening it closed and, just so she couldn’t remove it, he locked it with a small padlock.

Grabbing matching leather cuffs, he repeated this movement for her wrists and ankles.  Sasha’s eyes never left the mattress as he fastened the final cuff closed, locking it so she would be unable to remove it.

He stood behind her, admiring her body.  Her soft, supple skin was creamy white.  Her hair was like a chocolate waterfall cascading down her back.  Her eyes were large and inviting, filled with innocence.  Her body was curvy; her breasts full and luscious, her hips perfect to grab a hold of while he pounded into her tight body.  Her ass was nothing short of perfection.  His fingers traced along it, causing her to shiver with anticipation.

WHACK!

Sasha let out a surprised cry, turning around.  He grabbed her, forced her to look away from him and stuck her ass again.  Again, Sasha yelped.

Chuckling to himself, he made his way back to the bed and picked up a ball gag.  When he turned back to Sasha, a smile formed on his face.  She was rubbing her bottom, feeling the warmth of the flesh beneath her hands.

Thrusting the gag into her mouth and securing it behind her head, he bought his lips back to her ear and whispered, “Looks like I have to train you.  Slave.”

Sasha shook her head furiously as his hand wrapped around her neck, pulling her back against him.  Her naked ass bumped into his fulsome erection as he held her tight.  Her head rested against his breast bone.  She could hear his heart beating at a rapid pace.

He nipped her ear, his fingers tweaking her nipples, rubbing the delicate buds until they stood to attention.  Sasha’s protests soon turned to whimpers of lust, her eyes closing as her body responded to his manipulations.

His hands roamed over her body, feeling her responding to his touch.  His fingers brushed lightly over her thighs before gently smoothing over her glorious ass.

WHACK!

Sasha’s eyes flew open as his hand struck her again.  The gag muffled the surprised scream that escaped from her.  She tried to swat him away, flailing her arms about in an attempt to stop the spanking.

He frowned, his brow creasing.  He didn’t like that.

Grabbing a hold of Sasha he moved her over the bed.  He positioned her on her knees, center of the mattress before taking her hands and linking a small, but sturdy chain in between the cuffs, securing them behind her back.

Pressing his hand down in between her shoulder blades, he made sure her head was down on the pillow.  He could see her fighting the restraints, tugging on them. 

Sasha’s eyes scanned the room, hoping for an indication of what was to come.  She felt something drag across her back, running down her spine before lightly caressing the cheeks of her bottom.  Craning her neck, Sasha tried to see what it was.

She felt his weight atop her.  “You will learn,” he said, his hand sneaking beneath her and tweaking her nipple. 

Sasha gulped and tensed, wondering just what he had in store for her.

Something smacked her across the backside, causing her to yelp.  She could feel the warmth of her skin as he continued to strike her.  Her ass was stinging, but in a good way.  She could feel her body respond, juices seeping down her thighs, her pussy twitching with anticipation.

He could smell her arousal.  Placing the riding crop on the nightstand, he slipped a hand in between her legs, feeling her excitement coat his fingers.

“Not much of a punishment, is it Slave?” he said, his voice light with a joking undertone.  Sasha didn’t care.  She wanted him to touch her, to bring her to a powerful orgasm.

The bed shifted and his hands drifted away from her swollen sex.  She let out a muffled protest, begging him to return to touching her.  She felt his hands on her hips.  “Now, I’m going to fuck you,” he said.  “And you’re not allowed to come.  If you do, you’ll be punished.  Got it?”

The man was insane.  Sasha was right on the edge and he wanted her not to leap over into the world of pure bliss.  He was totally insane.

She felt the tip of his cock rub the outside of her, teasing her clit.  If he kept that up, she would come.

Sasha’s breath hitched as he sank into her.  She felt his hips pressed against hers as he gently rocked back and forth, his hand holding her wrists.  His rhythm quickened, his balls slapping against her clitoris.  Sasha moaned, eyes closing.  She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

His cock slid in and out of her, filling her with his length.  The tip of his member teased her clit before pounding back into her.  Trying hard to ignore the sensations building within wasn’t helping her at all.  Sasha let out a muffled cry as her body began to shake with the power of her first orgasm for the day.

He withdrew immediately, causing a mini aftershock.  He clucked his tongue in annoyance.  “Naughty girl,” he told her, slapping his hand against her hip.  “Now you have to be punished.”

He helped her into a sitting position and removed her gag, his cock standing to attention right in front of her face.  He knew how much she hated the taste of herself, so her punishment for disobeying him was to suck him clean.

Sasha sighed, realizing that she couldn’t overcome him.  Wrapping her lips around his swollen member, she began cleaning him with her tongue.  Skillfully she swept over his engorged cock, teasing the head of it with just the very tip of her tongue.

Once he deemed himself to clean enough, he released her wrists from behind her.  Before she had a moment to comprehend what was happening, he fastened them to the bed head, allowing her some wiggle room.  He tied her ankles to the far corners of the bed, keeping her completely spread.

Sasha gulped as she watched him pick up the crop again.  He rubbed it softly across her sensitive nipples, watching with glee as they perked up forming two stiff peaks.  He placed his mouth over one, flicking his tongue across the tight bud, feeling her squirm with pleasure beneath him.  He moved across to the other nipple, taking it in his mouth, sucking on it.  Sasha’s eyes rolled back, closing as she concentrated on breathing.

A sudden slap bought her back to reality.  He had stuck her lightly on her clitoris, teasing her with the tip of the riding crop.  He rubbed it against her, watching her body twitch, before bringing it back down on her engorged clit.

Surprised cries suddenly turned into moans of desire as she edged closer to an orgasm.  Her moans became groans of frustration when he stopped.  He watched as she thrashed about on the bed, begging him to touch her again.

As her body cooled back down, he began his manipulations again, spanking the crop against her clit while sucking on one of her nipples.  Just as her hips raised, he ceased.

Groaning loudly, Sasha shot him a murderous look. 

He licked his lips, admiring her gaze.  “This time you’re to come when I say so,” he told her, dragging the tip of the crop over her soaking wet pussy.

“What if I don’t?” she asked, her eyes widening.

He sighed, retrieving the gag from the nightstand.  “Then you’ll be punished,” he said, as he thrust the gag back between her teeth, roughly turning her head on the side so he could fasten it.

His attention returned to dragging the riding crop across her swollen clit.  Sasha’s breasts rose and fell with each shallow breath she took, waiting with anticipation for the first strike.  When it came, her body tensed, forcing herself to leap for it, to come when he asked her too.

“Come,” he commanded, rapidly striking her.

Sasha willed her body to comply.  The urge was there, but she couldn’t do it.  She bucked her hips, meeting his crop, strike for strike.  She groaned, feeling the urge growing.  She just needed a push.

The strikes stopped.  Sasha’s eyes opened. 

“You failed.”

Tears brimmed in her eyes as he released her ankles.  For the faintest of moments she thought about kicking him fair in the chest, but thought better of it.  She was in enough trouble with him for failing his orders.  She was certain that kicking him would result in her never seeing daylight again.

He rolled her onto her stomach and secured her ankles again.  He raised her hips, leaving her legs open as she knelt before him, her head down, hands still chained to the bed head.

WHACK!

She cried out.  Her ass was stinging.  That was the hardest spank she had gotten that night. 

WHACK!

He smacked her other butt cheek with an open palm.  Sasha began to shake, muffled pleas begging him to stop escaping her mouth. 

WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!

Sasha squirmed.  She didn’t know what was worse; the stinging sensation that now engulfed her ass or the fact that this was turning her on.  She could feel her excitement mounting as between her legs grew damper.

WHACK!

OK, that spank missed her ass completely and got her pussy.  A mini orgasm passed through her as his fingers landed directly on her clitoris.  If he did that again she was in danger of coming without his permission.

As if he could sense it, his fingers slid into her, coating themselves in her arousal before rubbing her clit and the outside lips of her moist sex.

He alternated between spanking her ass and stroking her pussy.  Her body reacted every time he lightly brushed over her clitoris.  She was on the verge of coming and he knew it.

“You’re going to come,” he told her, holding his hand directly underneath her quivering pussy.  “You’re going to grind yourself on my hand until you do.”

Nodding her head, Sasha began grinding her hips, feeling the palm of his hand graze against her mound.  She could feel herself getting closer and her movements became more aggressive.  She wanted to come. 

She could feel his hooked fingers teasing her as she moved up and down, rotating her hips.  She pressed down hard against his hand before rising and lightly brushing herself against his flesh. 

The familiar tingle rose within her and soon her back arched as she shuddered.  A second powerful orgasm washed over her.

As she collapsed on the bed, she felt him unchain her wrists and her ankles. 

She opened one eye to see him smiling at her.

“Good, slave,” he said, helping her into a sitting position and removing the gag.

“Can I please you some more, sir?” she asked, staring up at him with her big brown eyes.

For the first time that evening he looked pleased.  “You can,” he said, holding the base of his erection.  “Suck me until I come.”

Greedily, Sasha wrapped her lips around his cock, taking his entire length into her mouth.  Her tongue worked him over, her eyes stared up at him.  She moaned, the vibrations of her throat sending shivers down his spine.  She was good. 

Her hand pumped his cock while she continued to tease the tip of his shaft.  She stroked and fondled his balls, cupping them and giving a gentle squeeze.  It was enough to cause him to throw his head back and let out a cry of ecstasy. 

Sasha’s eyes closed as he shot his load down her throat.  She was gagging on it, but didn’t want him to know it.  She swallowed every drop before giving his cock a farewell kiss.

He glanced down at her, his hand under her chin, forcing her head upwards.  He lent down and gave her a lingering kiss.

“I knew I’d be able to train you,” he said, giving her a wink.

I Am Human

I am human
I cry
I fall
I make mistakes
And I pick myself up again

I am human
Sometimes I judge others
Sometimes I talk without thinking first
Sometimes I say things I don't really mean
Sometimes I do things that I later regret

I am human
I laugh
I love
I live
I learn

I am human
And I'm grateful to be one
Yes I have flaws
But those imperfections is what makes me perfect
In your eyes

I am human

Exciting News

Ladies and gentlemen,

As you know from time to time The Final Curtain has housed guest writers.  From short stories and poetry to interviews (Trent I'm looking at you) these guest writers have given something unique to this simple blog.  Some of them are still with us - in fact James has a new story in the works as we speak but other have been more of a one of deal.

Today I'm excited to add a new name to the ever growing list of guest writers -my very good friend, Amber Robyn.  Her works are amazing and I can't wait to share them all with you.  I guarantee they'll make you laugh, cry and just feel the emotion that the characters are feeling in general.  She really holds the mark of a great writer.

Hopefully we'll have something from her (and James) soon enough.  In the meantime, enjoy your stay at The Final Curtain.  Feel free to leave a comment or two if something strikes your fancy.

Lots of Love,

Rhiannon Elizabeth Irons

Recipe: Breakfast Rolls

Trust me, when you see this, you will be drooling.  Perfect for a lazy Sunday morning or for the weekends.  Hell, if I could, I eat this every morning.

This serves four but you can maximize the quantity for more or subtract some to make less.


What You Need

1 Tbsp Olive Oil
2 Rashers of Bacon (halved)
4 Large Eggs
4 Wholemeal English Muffins
4 Slices Cheddar Cheese
1 Tomato (thinly sliced)
1 Handful Baby Spinach
Tomato Sauce or Mayonnaise to serve

What To Do

1)  Heat a large non-stick frying pan over a medium-high heat, add the oil and the bacon, crack in the eggs. Reduce the heat to medium.
2)  While the eggs are cooking, split and toast the muffins.

3)  Turn the bacon and place a slice of cheese over each egg (the heat of the egg will begin to melt the cheese).  Cook the eggs to your liking (slightly runny is delicious!)

4)  To make the rolls, spread the muffin with a little tomato sauce or mayonnaise, put in slices of tomato, baby spinach, top with a slice of bacon and then the cheesy egg.
5)  Finish with a muffin half and enjoy!

I Miss You

"I can't believe you're gone."

I blink back tears as the realization hits me.  You're no longer part of my world.

As the people outside mill around, swapping stories, I slipped away, entering the only place you ever found sacred.  The only place where you could truly be you.  Your office.

Your mahogany desk still stood at the center of the room with your leather chair nestled behind it.  Your computer monitor was black.  I think this is the only time I've ever seen if switched off.  Your fountain pen sat beside a small black notebook, next to the keyboard.

I sit down in your chair and your scent lingers.  I feel the curve of the leather beneath my hand.

Your notebook beckons me to open it.  To see what your final project was.

The leather bound book was your pride and joy.  Many ideas that flowed through your mind filled the pages.  Your neat handwriting a testament to what you believed.  From fantasy to action and adventure your words lifted from the pages.  I relived stories you had run by me.  A deserted island with a hidden secret, an alternate realm hidden in a haunted house, a writer with an axe to grind all came back to me.

A small laugh escapes my lips as I see a note that you wrote to yourself.  Your final list.

"Milk.  Bread.  Coffee.  Find a new proof reader."

That was exactly like you.  Your world was always in your head.  A world where dreams came alive.  Your only limitation was your imagination.  Your confidence resided only in the covers of your black notebook and your books.

When you were writing you became someone else.  You were calmer, happier, then I ever remembered.  You found peace in a world full of chaos.

My hand lightly brushed over the wooden desk, feeling the grain and knots beneath my fingertips.  I had begged you to buy something more fetching to the eye but you had said it was the imperfections that made it perfect.

I picked up the only photograph that sat upon your desk.  A photo of us at the beach.  A faint smile appears on my lips.  I remembered that summer.  It was our first trip away together.  You had just sold your first book and the response was overwhelming.  You wanted to escape the public eye, so we packed up and trundled off to a beach house your friend owned.  That same friend was standing right outside your office door, tears in their eyes.

That trip made me realize that you were the only one for me.  Even when you were distracted by the stories in your head, I knew that I loved you more than life itself.

Absentmindedly, I fiddled with the desk drawer, remembering our last moments together.  We had fought before you stormed out of the house to gather the items on your list.

I wanted to get married and start a family but you seemed so distant to me.  Even when we were making love, you weren't all there.  Your mind was elsewhere.

That was the one thing I hated.  You spent more time emotionally with your characters than you did with me.  It was something that ate away at me so I confronted you over it.  You had told me that everything was fine and that you were just preoccupied.  I told you that you were always preoccupied and that your lack of availability said to me that you didn't want this relationship to take the next step.  You had told me that I was being childish and that I didn't know what you wanted.  I agreed, pouting at you.  I didn't have a clue as to what you wanted.  I just got the feeling it wasn't me.

You turned on your heel and stormed out the front door, slamming it behind you.  And that was it.  I never saw you again.

The drawer opened and I glanced down.  Sitting among the papers and scribblings of your life was a small grey box.  Curious, I opened it.

Before me, nestled in the box snugly, was a diamond ring.  On the underside of the lid was the inscription Princess Cut For A Princess.

Tears brimmed in my eyes.  I could feel one slide down my cheek and I quickly brushed it away.

I was wrong.  You did want me.

Standing, I glided across the floor of your office, feeling as though I had made a huge mistake.

I pulled open the door and watched.

There you were, sitting in the overstuffed armchair that you loved so much, your head in your hands as friends and family comforted you.  People offered you their condolences but it was too late.  I was gone.

A light appeared behind me, causing me to turn my head.  It was all so clear now.  I remembered everything.

After our fight I had gone upstairs to take a bath.  I had disrobed, tears streaming down my face as I stepped into the tub.  The porcelain was slippery and my foot went from under me, my head hitting the tiles with a loud crack.  And that's where I remained until you came home.

I remembered you trying to wake me, begging me to forgive you, that you had bought a ring.  You kept repeating it.  "I bought a ring.  I bought a ring.  Come back to me.  I bought a ring."

Blinking back tears I could see the form of an angel in the light.  Her hand beckoned to me.

"Please, one more minute," I pleaded, turning back to you.

Your suit was crumpled and as I approached I could see your eyes were red from crying.  You had already removed your tie, discarding it on the coffee table in front of you.

You stared at my photo, my smile bright, eyes shining, and I could see your lip quiver.  I placed my hand on yours and kissed your lips.

"I miss you," I whispered before making my way towards the light.

Scars

Wounds that run deep
Can leave nothing but scars
Reminders of the past
The stories they tell
Can be of tremendous joy
Or of nothing but suffering and pain

We all have scars
They can be physical
For all to see
Or they can be something hidden away
In the back of your mind
Mental scars take longer to heal
Because the pain is always there

My scars tell a story
Of who I use to be
Of rocky roads and mischief
Of rough and tumble games
Of a battle with cancer
And one of scrapped knees
All of these are a statement that I display
A part of me from yesterday

It's the emotional ones
That take a toll
Things that one could never imagine
Something so trivial to someone else
Could mean the entire world to you
Ripping it out of your life
Leaves you with a gaping wound
A wound that time can only heal
The knife may be gone
But the scar remains

My Little Pony

Erica stared out the large window of her study.  Rolling hills of lush grass stared back at her.  The gum trees swayed in the gentle summer breeze.

She glanced down at her laptop, the words of her story blurring together.

Erica was a writer and a very well known one at that.  When she sold her first book, even she was surprised by the response that it got.  Pretty soon she was able to afford to purchase a large block of land in the countryside, build her dream home and gain inspiration by her surroundings.  She had the dream home and the land in the country, but sadly the inspiration lacked.

Sighing, she got to her feet and made her way to the kitchen.

Just as she was staring at the contents of her fridge, her boyfriend, John, burst in through the door.  “You’ve got to come see this,” he cried, panting, his hands resting on his knees as he struggled to get his breath back.

“What?”

“Just come on.”

He grabbed her hand and dragged her outside.  Erica squinted in the bright side, shielding her eyes with her hand. 

It was hot and the humidity was almost unbearable as they raced across the grounds of Erica’s estate until they came to a large barn.

John had been building it for the last few months and he was excited to show off the final product.

“Ta-da!” he cried, standing with his arms wide open in front of the large barn.  “So, what do you think?”

Erica’s mouth hung open.  “It’s amazing,” she said, stuttering.  “I can’t believe it’s finally done.”  John grinned and told her that she hadn’t seen anything yet.  He pulled open the door and ushered her inside. 

There were ten stalls, perfect for holding horses or cattle as well as a small powder room complete with shower.  There were stairs that led to an office style room upstairs which could double as a guest room should anyone want to sleep in the barn. 

Erica entered one of the stalls, her feet crunching on the fresh hay that had been laid out on the ground.  Several bundles of it were stationed in the corner and on the gate was a hook to hold the horse’s reins as you groomed them.

“John, this is amazing,” she said.  She really meant it.  She was in awe at the amount of work he had done.

John lent on the gate, staring at her.  Erica was gorgeous.  She had long blonde hair, the same colour as the hay.  Her body was curvy, her breasts full and perky.  Her stomach was taut with a simple diamond belly ring dangling from it.  Her long legs climbed up her skirt, causing John to lick his lips with lust.

He quietly walked off, closing the barn door and locking it.  He knew he wouldn’t have been able to resist Erica so he had a little plan for her.  A roll in the hay she would never forget.

He climbed the stairs to the office, retrieving a bag he had left there while he was building the barn.  Unzipping it, he pulled out a small blonde tail attached to a simple vibrating butt plug, a vibrator, a horse bit gag with reins attached and leather cuffs for her wrists that were separated by a small chain and padlocks.

Erica liked it rough and was certainly willing to try anything once, more than once if she really enjoyed it.  When she originally started talking about building a barn she would often tease him by saying things like “Before we actually get horses, we should take a roll in the hay ourselves.”  John’s blood boiled with desire as he spent weeks hunting for a pony tail that he could use on her, making her his little pony for a day.

He crept back down the stairs, keeping an eye on her as she ran her hands across the wooden walls, feeling all the effort he had put into creating this perfect barn for her.

Sneaking up behind her and placing the items from his bag on a hay stack, John wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to him.  Her butt bumped his erection and he groaned.

Erica gasped when she felt his lips on her throat, his hand cupping her breasts, squeezing her nipples through her T-shirt and bra.  He could feel her body respond so he quickly removed her clothes, leaving her in just her baby pink thong.

He told her to close her eyes.  When she wouldn’t, John wrapped her T-shirt around her head, covering her eyes completely. 

John took his time sucking and flicking her nipples with his tongue and mouth, making sure to keep her on the edge but not quite take her over it.  He secured her wrists behind her back, ignoring her pleas before he placed the gag firmly in her mouth, securing it behind her head.  He removed the blindfold and held up the blonde tail.  He draped it over her breasts, teasing her sensitive nipples with the hair before pressing the plug against one and turning the vibrator on.  “Know what this is?” he asked, running his hand through her hair.  Erica shook her head, eyes wide.

He turned her around and dropped her panties to the ground.  He wrapped his arm wrapped around her chest as he rubbed his other hand across the curve of her backside.  Erica felt the tip of the plug press against her ass and she tensed.  Closing her eyes and feeling John’s tongue tickle her earlobe caused her to relax, allowing him to slip the vibrating intruder into her tight body.

Eric shuddered as she felt the powerful vibrations course through her.  She glanced down at herself and realized what he had really done to her.  Forget buying a pony for herself, John had turned her into his little pony.

Her chest heaved as she wondered what he had in mind.

She didn’t have to wait long.  Grabbing hold of the reins, John pulled her out of the stall and into the centre of the barn where he had positioned bales of hay so he could lie her down on them and do, what Erica imagined, would be unspeakable things. 

Erica pulled on her restraints, feeling the coolness of the concrete beneath her bare feet.  He hooked the reins over one of the hooks before running back upstairs to grab a riding crop and small whip from his bag.  Erica watched with both fear and interest as he returned, slapping the crop against her backside, causing her to jump.

“Easy, girl,” he said soothingly, tracing the whip over her delicate skin.  “Easy.”  He flicked it expertly over her nipples.  Erica’s eyes closed.  Though her nipples were stinging from the attention John was giving them, it felt so good.  She wanted to beg him to throw her down and fuck her, but this was his game.

Once he tired of whipping her, John removed the reins from the gag and led her over to the bales of hay, positioning her so she was lying on her stomach.  Her legs were spread and she waited, feeling his hands running up her thighs, teasing her clitoris with his fingers.

The horse tail he had inserted into her, hung down, covering her dripping wet pussy.  He could see her excitement trickling out of her, down her thighs.

Grabbing hold of the vibrator, John lifted the tail and plunged into her moist mound.  Erica moaned loudly, feeling John sliding it in and out, fucking her with it before he turned it on and leaving it buried inside her.

The pulsations from both vibrators caused Erica to shake as she climaxed hard.  Sweat dripped from her brow as her eyes rolled backwards, her breathing growing more rapid.

She watched through parted eyes as John held up her reins, reattaching them to the gag and lifting them over her head so he could reach them once he decided to plow into her.  He watched her face as she struggled to regain some control, trying to delay her second orgasm.

John laughed, rubbing his hand over her shoulder, down her back before cupping her ass.  “Who’s my pretty little pony?” he asked, slapping his hand down over her backside, leaving a red mark on her sweat-soaked skin.

Erica didn’t have time to reply as a powerful orgasm ripped through her body.  John’s hand rubbed over the red mark he had left on her ass before reaching down to remove the large vibrator from her soaking wet pussy.  He let it linger on her clitoris for a couple of seconds, teasing her further, before he plunged his rock hard cock into her quivering body.

One of his hands gripped the reins tightly, pulling her head back, arching her back, while his other hand gripped her hip, digging his nails into her flesh.

John pounded into her, feeling her body tighten around him, gripping his cock and milking him.  The hair from the horse tail tickled his shaft, but he loved the way it looked as she wiggled her ass back against him, begging him to thrust hard and deeper into her.

He obliged, his hips bucking against hers, sweat dripping down his nose.  He was on the verge of coming himself when Erica let out a surprised gasp as a third orgasm ripped through her.  John could feel her inner muscles clench at his manhood.

With a cry of delight, John threw his head back as he shot his load deep inside her, filling her completely.  He could feel her twitch as he withdrew, his juices mixed with hers sliding down her thighs.

Still holding the reins, John helped Erica to her feet.  She was shaking and barely able to stand.  He led her to the back of the barn where he had set up a horse grooming centre.  He tied the reins over the bar he had installed before turning the hose on her.

Cold water blasted over Erica’s naked body, chilling her to the bone.  She tried to scream, plead with him to stop.  John just laughed, hosing her down until she was clean.  Wet, but clean.

He walked her back to the first stall, tying her reins over the hook on the gate.

“Be good, my little pony,” he said, running his hands over her ample breasts, tweaking her nipples one last time before turning on his heel and walking back to the barn door.  “I’ll take you for another ride later.”

April Fool's Day

I had met Jenny when I was a freshman at college.  She was pretty, with long flowing brown hair and biggest, most soulful eyes I had ever seen.  But those eyes were her ultimate disguise.  What I didn’t expect was her love of surprises and no surprise was greater than waking up on the first April Fool’s Day that I knew her covered in honey with my ant farm tipped over beside my bed.

As I was doing a wild dance, dusting the ants off me the best I could with honey coated fingers, in burst Jenny, laughing and clapping, her brown eyes dancing with delight as she repeatedly shouted “April Fool’s, April Fool’s.”

From that point on I had an obsession with the day known as April Fool’s. 

Every year since I met her, Jenny had always bested me when it came to practical jokes.  The year I snuck into her dorm room, grabbed her clothes and left them all under a hot shower was the year she snuck into my room and froze mine with liquid nitrogen from the chemistry lab.

Then there was the year that I hired someone to kidnap her, only for her to outwit me and have them nab her roommate instead so she was free to put a laxative in my food before sealing the toilet seats with industrial strength super glue. 

Year after year, Jenny had humiliated me.  I thought once I left college the shame of the day wouldn’t follow me.  But somehow, and I don’t know how, Jenny always made it her mission to out prank me on April 1.

This year I had to beat her at her own game.

I had relished in the news of the gruesome discovery of my St. Patrick’s Day massacre for a week as police tried to piece together what had happened.  I had been extra cautious in covering up my crime so they couldn’t possibly link me too it. 

The city was in fear.  Fifteen-hundred people are brutally murdered and no one had any idea as to how. 

The stories were fascinating.  Gang wars, a drug bust gone bad, disgruntled employee with too much time on his hands….The excuses and ideas were very creative.  One reporter showed up on my doorstep and asked why I hadn’t been among the victims.  My response was simple; “I hadn’t been invited.”

After he left, I turned my attention to the calendar that hung in the hallway.  I had circled the first of April.  I had to start preparing.

The next night I got into my car and travelled to see my informant.  Jenny had moved away from the city after April last year and was unaware of what I had planned for her.

My informant had tracked her down and she was working at a road side diner.  For a faintest of moments I felt pity for her.  She had been a wonderful student, getting straight A’s, but when the economy crashed, she had lost her job and was forced to move out of her fancy two bedroom apartment.

Now she was residing in some flea-bag motel, paying by the night while working as a waitress in a diner and truck stop.  I could only imagine all the creatons she had encountered in her year. 

A faint smile appeared on my face.  I bet she didn’t have any time to think of a prank this year.

I followed my informant’s directions until I came to the diner.  I parked my car across the street and watched as trucks came and went.  Filthy truckers, cursing loudly, left the diner, rubbing their large bellies, satisfied by their greasy meal.

Then there she was.

Even from a distance I could tell she had lost her spark.  Her brown hair was oily, and her eyes weren’t sparkling.  She was thin and frail, her face gaunt as though she had lost too much weight.  She wasn’t the same Jenny anymore.  Her BMW had been traded in for an old clunker of a car that I watched her get into.  She had to pry the door open.  From across the street I could hear her pleading with it to open.

The car rumbled and rattled as it pulled out of the parking lot and began driving down the highway.  I followed, staying close enough to keep an eye on her, but far enough back so she wouldn’t see me.

I watched as she took the next exit, driving slowly, carefully.  Even from my vantage point I could see something wasn’t quite right.

There was an intersection up ahead.  Its red light stared menacingly at us as we slowed to a stop.  The back of Jenny’s car was badly dented as though she had been in a recent accident.

I stared at her little Toyota, my eyes fixed on the dent.  It wouldn’t take much for me to rev my Mustang and just slam into her, sending her car into the ditch on the side of the road.

I revved my engine, my dark eyes narrowing.  I saw her hand reach up to adjust her review mirror.  I quickly lowered the brim of my hat so she couldn’t see my face.  The last thing I needed was Jenny seeing me and spoiling my surprise.

The light turned green and she turned left.  As I rounded the corner I saw the motel that my informant said she called home.

My car came to a stop on the street as I watched her pull into the parking space for room six.  I watched as she climbed out of the car and made her way into her room.

I could feel a smile appearing on my face.  This time Jenny would be the one to suffer.

For the next few days I followed her to and from work.  With each day she looked worse, her skin was pale, her hair limp.  She looked like she hadn’t eaten a decent meal in a year.

The night before April 1, I followed her back to the motel from the dinner.  Like the last few nights, I parked on the street while she got out of her car and returned to the dingy motel room that she now called home.

Glancing over my shoulder into the back seat, I reached out, grabbing a box that I had carefully wrapped in green, yellow and red wrapping paper.  She will never know what’s coming.

Holding the box to my chest, I got out of my car and quickly moved along the wall of the motel, keeping to the shadows.  Looking around wildly I saw that the coast was clear so I dashed over to her car.  I placed the box carefully on the matt outside her motel door.

The curtains were parted slightly so I peaked inside.  Jenny was sitting on the bed, rubbing her feet, her shoe in hand.  She stood up, turning her back to me and unzipped her dress.  I watched with interest as her dress fell to the floor.  She removed her black lace bra and panties before grabbing a simple white towel and moving towards the dank bathroom located at the back of the room.

As the door to the bathroom closed, I turned back to her car. 

The paint was chipped and peeling.  There were rust points all over it and the roof was two different colors.  I grabbed hold of the handle, wondering if the locking mechanism would even work on such a rust bucket.

The door opened with ease.  I knew it would.  I hadn’t seen her lock it.  That’s most likely because even thieves wouldn’t bother stealing this piece of crap.

I glanced at my watch.  It was nearing midnight.  Only a few more minutes and it’d would be officially April Fool’s Day.  Only a few more minutes before I pay Jenny back for all the rotten pranks she played on me. 

Keeping an eye on her door, I climbed into her car.  Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a mini camera and screwdriver.  I spent the next few minutes attaching the camera to her dashboard right in front of her steering wheel.  Pulling out my phone, I logged into an account and checked to make sure the camera worked.

Sure enough, the image of my face appeared on my phone.  I smiled and hammed it up for the camera.  I wanted to capture the very moment she opened my surprise on camera.  I had to see her face. 

I grabbed the package from the matt and placed it carefully in the passenger seat before closing her car door quietly and carefully.

Making my way back through the shadows of the night, I began to chuckle to myself, thinking about how surprised Jenny would be.

I climbed back into my car and waited.

At exactly 9:27AM, Jenny exited her motel room.  I watched her wave good morning to a neighbor before climbing into her car.  I pulled out my phone and logged in. 

The camera was in the perfect position to capture her facial expressions.  At first I saw confusion.  She opened the car door and called out to her neighbor asking if they had seen anyone approach her car this morning.  The neighbor shook their heads.

Confused, Jenny glanced back to the package.  Biting her lower lip she grabbed the package, pulling into her lap.  Glancing around wildly, she fumbled with the ribbon before ripping the paper to shreds.

Her mouth dropped open, her eyes misting over as she saw the contents.  Atop the contents was a small white card.  She opened it and her eyes danced with delight as she fingered a pile of crisp $100 bills. 

“I know you’re having a hard time, so here’s something to make today seem a little brighter.”

What?  You thought I would harm her?  How cruel do you think I am?

“APRIL FOOL’S!”