Tag Archives: fun

A September Saga: A Co-operative Story

2 Sep


A September Saga

I’ll start and you add on. The only rules are to try to follow the story so it makes some sense. No naughty words, please. Otherwise, have fun and we’ll see what happens. Check out the August Tale from…you guessed it…August!


The waning Autumn sun shone on the dewy leaves strewn about the park, causing them to sparkle, though they were dead. The park was deserted, but signs of life remained. Three roses lay on the empty bench as if waiting for someone…waiting for a clandestine lover.

“I hope he arrives soon,” the red rose sighed. “It looks a bit like rain.”

“Whatever are you on about?” snapped the pink rose. “We’re waiting for a she, not a he.”

“Ssshhh! someone’s coming,” whispered the white rose, as a young woman came into view. They all watched as she came nearer, hoping that she was the one. Although the red rose was disappointed by her gender.

Rebecca stopped by the bench and smiled. ‘One red, one pink and one white’ she thought, ‘He kept his word, now…..what am I going to do?’

Red is for Romance, White is for Innocence and Pink is for Admiration she thought as she glanced around to see if anyone was watching.

Rebecca walked this route through the park every day. It was part of her routine. Yesterday, she had run into a handsome young gentleman who asked her to dinner. She declined due to the fact that he was a complete stranger. She also had a distrust of good looking men. They always seemed so full of themselves.

He had continued walking with her, asking how he could change her mind. Rebecca had simply said that he would have to take time to get to know her. Disappointed, but encouraged, he had walked away quietly, turning only to tell her to look for a gift on the bench the next day.

“Why is she staring at us,” whispered the red rose. “Is she the one?”

“Perhaps,” the white rose answered. “Let her prick her finger upon my thorn and we shall see.”

“Upon my thorn? Who talks like that?” Asked the pink rose with a sniff.

“You know Whitey,” answered Red. “Thinks she lives in some medieval fantasy world.”

“Whitey is a she?” remarked Pink in surprise.

“I’ve always felt deep inside I am,” sighed the white rose.

Rebecca peered up and down the path. No one else seemed to be around, yet she was certain she’d heard whispering. “Must have been the wind.”

She returned her attention to the roses; “So romantic. Perhaps…” She reached to pick them up, but the sharp sting of a thorn caused her to draw back her hand. A single drop of blood beaded on her forefinger. Instinctively, she put her finger in her mouth to soothe the pain.

“Oh no…is THIS a sign?” she thought. Just then she heard the sound of footsteps approaching…

“Hello poppety mop! I’m Hall,” The little person squeaked in the loudest squeak she could possibly muster. “Are you Rebecca?” The young woman gazed about her person. Unable to determine whether she’d finally lost her mind, she started to sob.

“Well, this little creature has done it now!” exclaimed the pink rose. “With all this weeping, no one will want to play!”

“So sad,” muttered the red rose. “And such a pleasant Autumn day it was looking to be.”

“Stop twittering, you two!” interjected the white rose. “Gregor is coming.”

He walked up to the bench and gazed down at Rebecca. He noticed tear tracks and the roses, silent now, in her lap. “Hello Rebecca,” he smiled. “You came. I’m so glad you did.” Slowly, he crouched down bedside the bench. He gently took her hand and closed his own around it…

“Who are you?” Rebecca shrieked, yanking her hand away from his. “I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

“Ah, but yesterday we did  meet,” answered the short, swarthy, trollish little man. “Do you not remember? I told you I would leave something for you on this bench.”

“But that wasn’t you,” Rebecca whispered. “It couldn’t have been you.”

Gregor looked away, a great sadness in his eyes. “It was I, my dear. Yet much has transpired since then, I fear.”

“Poppery moppery, don’t you know it, he’s a poet,” Hall sang, dancing and hopping about.

“That little person is so annoying,” muttered the white rose.

“Which one?” asked the red.

“Both,” giggled the pink rose.

Rebecca looked as if she was ready to bolt when Gregor’s words stopped her.

“Don’t try and leave, my dear. It’s the roses you see. They are enchanted. They forced me to lure you here. And now you, too are trapped in their little game.”

“Ooohh! I love games,” squeaked Hall as she twirled and hopped around. Rebecca was motionless, stunned and afraid. Gregor raised his chubby troll hand to his face to wipe away the tears that began to stream down his ugly face.

‘Bewitched roses’ repeated Rebecca, ‘An annoying little person who keeps saying poppety mop, talking roses and an ugly ogre……..mmmmm we could do with someone like JP Lane to sort this one out otherwise I can see it ending as a dream – again!’

“Cor! I’ll have you know missy, it was NOT me shouting poppety mop, it was an imposter!” Hall’s eyes sparkled and shone, raven black. “AND they didn’t actually shout poppety mop either.. Although they DID swirl rather well..” Hall stamped her little foot and glanced over at Rebecca and Gregor. She felt sad, distressed for them both. What was to become of them and could Ruby help…

The clock in the park struck twelve, Rebecca gasped as she looked at Greogor, she recognised the handsome face from the day before…..(oh perlease!)

And while the roses conspired, and the humans twittered, the trees gave up their precious autumn leaves, swirling ’bout the couple in their deceitfully warm hues.

“You look chilled, luv,” Gregor said with that self-assured smile. “Perhaps away somewhere we should go, beyond the roses, beyond the park, beyond the gaze of passers-by?”

“You see,” said Gregor, “I am again transformed!” His renewed face shone under Rebecca’s adoring gaze.

“Time to work your magic now, Whitey,” whispered the red rose.

“Yes, indeed!” the white rose replied.

A shadow fell over the bench. Gregor gasped in horror as Rebecca’s eyes became dark, her cheeks gray. She opened her mouth to speak, revealing a sharp set of fangs.

Gregor’s uncontrollable yearning for Rebecca fought hard and fiercely with the fear that had suddenly gripped his heart. Rebecca flinched and growled quietly, as he very slowly leaned in to whisper to her. She held his gaze in an attempt to pre-empt his next move, but became calm and receptive as he then stroked her left cheek with the back of his right hand.

“I feel cold,” she muttered deeply. Rebecca pressed her fist to her chest. “In here,” she continued, still pushing her face into Gregor’s hand, as he continued to caress her cheekbone. She took her other hand up to her face and touched her lips…stroking her newly-grown fangs. “What have I become?” she asked weakly.

Gregor placed his hand over Rebecca’s as her fingertips reluctantly studied the rest of her face. “You are still you, Rebecca, and my compulsion to make love to you is still as strong as it ever was,” he replied. His eyes remained focused on her pupils as they pulsated between red and black. He was not about to let the roses take Rebecca from him and prayed the love he felt for her, enchanted or otherwise, would be enough to break their spell.

Rebecca took Gregor’s hands and held them firmly. “Why would you want me like this? I could end you…break you”

“If it was the only way to be close to you, I would gladly be broken and damned to Hell for all eternity,” he said. “Never to have felt you move lustfully and needfully beneath me would be punishment enough. My life is already broken without you. If death be the consequence for it to be temporarily mended for just those precious moments, then so be it”

Rebecca pulled her hands away from Gregor’s as her attention was drawn to the white rose and grasped it firmly around the stem.

“Noooo!” the other two roses protested, but it was too late.

She lifted the rose to her face delicately, wanting to smell purity one final time. The thorns were unable to pierce her now accursed skin, and each of the petals fell away from the stem, like ivory tears.

“See what you’ve done to me?” Rebecca said as a single blood-red tear streamed down her ashen skin, anger, sorrow and hunger brewing in the cauldron of her heart. “You have taken my innocence for your own gain. I should kill you right now. It was not your decision to make.”

She bared her newly grown fangs, her eyes glowing red.

REBECCA! What have I told you! Gregor is MINE! <He sweeps Gregor onto the back of his steed and rides off into the sunset leaving Rebecca standing alone looking extremely silly with her fangs gnashing into thin air……….

Rebecca stood there, mouth agape for a few moments, then she felt something odd occur. She looked down at the ground where the stem of the white rose once laid, and in its place, a black rose had taken its place.

She narrowed her eyes towards the sunset, grabbed the black rose, and bat-like wings sprung painfully from her back.

“I have an imp to consume, and a charlatan to reckon with” she growled, ignoring the pain of the new transformation, and leaped into the air, chasing the twilight.

“That was unexpected,” exclaimed the red rose.

“But not entirely undeserved, I think,” the pink rose commented.

“Gloppery foppery,” chanted Hall, twirling and hopping. “Gregor spirited away, Rebecca flying off on bat wings. What do we do now?”

“But what about Whitey…I mean Blackey?” cried the red rose. “We must have all three of us together for our magic to hold.”

“Mwmfmp,” muttered Hall as she gnawed on a stick.

“Did no one ever tell you not to speak with your mouth full?” reprimanded the pink rose full of hauteur.

“Wmfpfnd,” answered Hall, blackberry juice dripping down her chin.

“Never mind her, this is serious!” The red rose’s voice was shrill with panic.

“Indeed it is, but what do you suggest we do? Fly off to apprehend Rebecca and rescue Whitey…ah, Blackey? How long before the magic begins to weaken?”  asked the pink rose.

“I don’t know. It’s never been tested. Days, hours, minutes?” Just as the red rose finished speaking, they glimpsed a black object hurtling to earth. It was Rebecca.

Rebecca landed with a loud thump. “Who’d have thought flying could be so complicated?” she muttered.

Rebecca narrowed her eyes at the setting sun, Gongle and Gregor fading fast into the sunset. She took off again once more, a sense of rage fueling her ascent.

Now accustomed to her wings and the difficulty of flying, she quickly caught up to the imp and the charlatan.

“Uh oh,” Gregor said to Gongle who, as usual, was oblivious to the impending danger, already celebrating his victory. “She’s –”

But he was cut off as Rebecca slammed headlong into the two, knocking both to the ground.

She tossed Gongle to the side, “I’ll deal with you later, Imp”

She picked up Gregor by the throat, and raised him up enough so that his feet were dangling mere inches from the ground.

“Now,” she said to Gregor, tucking the black rose behind his ear, the thorns tearing his flesh allowing blood to flow down the side of his neck. “Where were we, Lover?”

Gregor looked sideways at Gongle. “I think he’s unconscious. Is he dead?”

“Why? You want him to join in?” teased Rebecca. “Like a bit of pixie play, do you, Gregor?

“Not really, Rebecca, I just worry about murder. It bothers me just a little”

Rebecca lowered Gregor until his feet touched the ground and, still gripping him tightly around the throat, licked her lips hungrily. “You said you wanted to make love to me, Gregor. Yet you seem less inclined. Have I changed that much you now find me unattractive?” Rebecca looked closer into Gregor’s eyes, wanting to see a glimmer of the love he had spoken about. “Where is this lust you speak of now? Where?”

Gregor tried his hardest to push a reply out as best he could. “I think…a good idea…would be…for you…to stop…strangling me…I’m dying…actually…to death…Rebecca…your hand…my throat…let go…please”

Rebecca loosened her grip, but held Gregor firmly as she brought his lips to hers. She brushed his mouth briefly with hers and then with her cheek, before burying her face into his neck. Gregor, now able to breathe a little easier, was still filled with the compulsion to take Rebecca sexually. The curse the roses had put upon him left him no alternative, but to give in. He let his head fall to one side as Rebecca inhaled his scent and opened her mouth to consume as much of it as she possibly could. Her eyes glowed red as ruby as she ran her sharp fangs down his neck and to his shoulder. Her nails, now the sharpest of claws, stroked a neat rip in his shirt, from the collar right down to the button of his jeans.

Gregor sighed. “Don’t kill me yet…please. Whatever you do, make that the last thing you do”

Rebecca looked up at him and with a quick flick of her wrist, his fly button was off. Gregor gulped as he watched it rolling on the ground away from them. Rebecca placed her forefinger on Gregor’s lips. “I will take you right to the point of death and to a level of euphoria you will never forget”

“Thank you,” Gregor wimpered.

Rebecca let out a playful laugh. “Thank you? Aww…Gregor…you are SO polite, even in the face of potential death by rampant sex! Thank you? Well that’s just SO sweet!” She traced a line with her clawed forefinger from Gregor’s bottom lip, down and under his chin. She continued to trace a neat straight line downwards and Gregor became aware of a mild stinging pain as she went. He looked down and realized her scalpal-like finger was making a bright red shallow incision that was about to disappear into the crotch of his pants.

“Ewwww! Poppety moppets! Can anyone say Sadomasochist?” Hall shrieked in disgust. She hopped up and down, higher and higher until she was able to reach out and grab the black rose from behind Gregor’s ear. She threw the bewitched flower onto the ground and continued her hopping frenzy, grinding the rose into pulp.

“No!” cried Rebecca and the remaining two roses in unison. Rebecca lunged at Hall with her deadly claws, but even as she did so, the claws began to disappear and Rebecca’s graceful hands took their place. The red and pink roses began to whimper.

The spell was broken.

“That horrid little creature ruined our fun!” the pink rose cried out in anguish.

“Not to mention that she killed Whitey…er Blackie and we can never curse anyone again!” The red rose wept in frustration.

Hall grinned, satisfied, and began chewing on a particularly tasty stick.

Oh hello Sketch:-) I must have fallen asleep on the grass, my neck feels a bit stiff. It’s lovely and peaceful in this park isn’t it………….

“Mwmfbd” mumbled Hall, without looking at Gongle and continued to chew happily on her branch. Gongle took her garbled reply as agreement.

The setting sun was showing off, displaying improbable colors that cast a rosy glow over the now peaceful park.

Rebecca lovingly tended to Gregor’s wounds, the wounds she had unwittingly inflicted. The roses continued to whimper, but no one paid them any heed. Rebecca and Gregor would always think of them fondly, for despite their wicked intent, the magical roses had brought them together.

“Yes, indeed”, exclaimed Gongle, rising to his hands,  “a lovely September Day!”