tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1471301005894820896.post7179620905522608178..comments2023-10-10T13:08:12.125+01:00Comments on Megan Taylor: Blog Story - Posts 6 and 7Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08841687319208497757noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1471301005894820896.post-3125591498952418032008-06-09T00:05:00.000+01:002008-06-09T00:05:00.000+01:00This blog story is now closing, but will be re-ope...This blog story is now closing, but will be re-opening for more of your incredible posts in the morning. <BR/><BR/>Massive thanks, once again, for all the generous, brilliant contributions. Return tomorrow to find out what will happen next (when hopefully I'll know too . . . ;-))Meganhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08841687319208497757noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1471301005894820896.post-49743151003475258462008-06-08T23:52:00.000+01:002008-06-08T23:52:00.000+01:00Reposting - just trying to make it make a bit more...Reposting - just trying to make it make a bit more sense!<BR/><BR/><BR/>I wasn’t fooling anybody – she must have noticed the way I looked at him sometimes. The way I’d always outstay my welcome.<BR/><BR/>The way I wanted, desperately, to feel just a fraction of the things she felt. The disgusting, drunken passion of course - but also the accusations and recriminations and, maybe, even the fear.<BR/><BR/>Because wasn’t it better to row and fight and love and hate somebody than to feel nothing at all?<BR/><BR/>Nothing real.<BR/><BR/>Yet when he finally touched me that evening I had recoiled – repulsed by my own desire and what it might undo inside me.<BR/><BR/>Again, I began to run. Away from them, away from the cabin.<BR/><BR/>Then, all of a sudden, I was flying. For a moment no part of me touched the ground – an empty, weightless feeling cut short by thudding pain as my body connected with the earth once more and I plummeted down the steep wooded bank.<BR/><BR/>I’m not sure how long I was unconscious. It felt like less than an instant - but the blood had caked slightly by the time I lifted my face from the tarmac.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1471301005894820896.post-53135380928919188282008-06-08T23:35:00.000+01:002008-06-08T23:35:00.000+01:00This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1471301005894820896.post-27812125050485132452008-06-08T23:11:00.000+01:002008-06-08T23:11:00.000+01:00It is a discomforting fact that other people can r...It is a discomforting fact that other people can read your thoughts. But Theresa had always known what I had been thinking.<BR/><BR/>The very first time that I had met Jed was at a pub called The Phoenix several years before. As he walked in I had noticed the hard curve of his thigh muscles as they cut through the jeans that he was wearing. His rough, durable body resembled the motorbike that he had just dismounted outside, and I felt my heart trickle into my intestines when he walked over. <BR/><BR/>Ever since that jolt, I had become fascinated by the dark, distant, almost vacant, look in his eyes, which I knew harboured a shipwreck of secrets, and which I knew that I was destined to uncover. I hated to admit that truth to anyone, let alone to him, but that night in the cabin when I had seen him huddled in the corner with the empty whisky bottle between his feet, I just knew that I had to tell him. I couldn’t help myself.<BR/><BR/>What made it worse was that his secrets were darker than anything that I could have imagined, anything that I could have dreamed. I don't think that anything could break the bond that we built that night.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1471301005894820896.post-52703598021208777922008-06-08T23:04:00.000+01:002008-06-08T23:04:00.000+01:00This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1471301005894820896.post-74860772005944173352008-06-08T20:59:00.000+01:002008-06-08T20:59:00.000+01:00Nothing is ever just one persons fault, but Jed wa...Nothing is ever just one persons fault, but Jed wasn’t my sister, Theresa was.<BR/><BR/>I had to go back for her.<BR/><BR/>I turned and reluctantly began to retrace my steps.<BR/><BR/>This hadn’t begun in the tent, its roots went much deeper than that. We’d met Jed four years ago. He was tall and years spent outdoors had left him thin and muscular. His taut skin and sharp features could make him look mean. Sometimes when he smiled this meanness disappeared and his warmth and sense of fun shone through. Sometimes when he smiled his face tightened and all you could see was pain and cruelty in his eyes.<BR/><BR/>I could hear Jed’s raised voice as I approached the cabin. As I got closer his voice gained intensity and I could hear Theresa’s desperate entreaties between his outbursts. I couldn’t yet hear what they were saying but it was clear they were arguing again.<BR/><BR/>Suddenly the voices stopped and were replaced by altogether more violent sounds, a sharp crack followed by Theresa’s scream.<BR/><BR/>There was a moment of quiet.<BR/><BR/>I began to run through the snow, I had almost got to the cabin when another sound stopped me in my tracks.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1471301005894820896.post-14215915245529744602008-06-07T13:17:00.000+01:002008-06-07T13:17:00.000+01:00This comment has been removed by the author.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1471301005894820896.post-66432158335462931832008-06-07T12:31:00.000+01:002008-06-07T12:31:00.000+01:00It is well established that children will look for...It is well established that children will look for their parents in prospective mates. In public, Jed had been the life and soul of a gentleman – the sort of person who would cross a street to give a beggar a dollar and buy a can of meat for a hungry kitten. In private he resembled our father at his worst.<BR/><BR/>His binge drinking – easily dismissed when at college but less so four years after graduation – had steadily increased. A year ago Theresa had promised to leave him. Six months ago she had changed her mind when she realised she was pregnant despite the bruises. Ben was born three weeks early, but he was healthy enough, if a little thin. Jed, holding his son in his arms, had vowed to stop drinking and clean himself up. He really believed it and with a rush of faith as wide as a canyon, Theresa had too.<BR/><BR/>I took my bearings. In my haste I had run too far down the mountain. Our campsite – what was left of it – should be up and to my left. The road we’d come in on lay that way as well, and the car a mile along it.Rachel Greenhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13048590167153841615noreply@blogger.com