SHAPE OF HER HEART_Friday's Romantic Challenge

She wears my ring.

That is Friday's Romantic challenge given us by Denise Covey:

http://romanticfridaywriters.blogspot.com/

This is an excerpt {444 words} from NEW ORLEANS ARABESQUE (from a chapter told through the eyes of Victor Standish):

The shouting was deafening. "Mei-lo-ri! Mei-lo-ri!"

Sam and I hurried out of my room to the balcony, overlooking the front of the jazz club. I swallowed hard. It was filled to overflowing with Ningyos brandishing swords in a frenzy of devotion to the regal wife of my father, Sam McCord.

Sam rasped, "She wears my ring."

I looked up. "That's a good thing, right?"

"It is the ring of King Solomon."

I went cold. "The one that controls demons?"

Meilori answered for me as she called out to her devoted followers. "Long have you questioned me marrying a barbarian. But see? Now, I possess his ring that will have an army of demons sweeping the world clean of the filth of humanity. Clean for us to rule!"

Sam's face looked like he'd been gut-shot. "No. No."

Meilori's face beamed as she spoke, "When first I met the barbarian, he was wearing this ring. And I knew to possess it, I first had to possess him!"

This was ancient Greek tragedy plotting worthy of Medea or Elektra. I looked to Sam. He weaved as if faint. I went a little crazy. No one hurt Captain Sam when I was around.

"Yo, she-bitch!" I yelled, walking across the balcony, right up to her.

"No,Victor" rasped Sam. "You don't know the shape of her heart."

I said, "What shape does a vacuum have?"

Meilori sneered at me. "Speaks the bastard son of my husband."

I laughed, "Better than your son, your Hind-Ass. There aren't enough scalding baths in the world to wash me clean if I were yours."

She reared back her ring hand, her fingers now straight to slap me. Sucker. I moved through the seconds, plucking Solomon's ring from her finger, tossing it back to Captain Sam.

Beside Meilori, dagger in hand, her Prime Minister gasped, "Impossible! No one can take Solomon's ring as long as the wearer lives!"

I snorted, "Sure they can, your pompousness. Anyone who doesn't want the ring for him or herself can do ...."

Sfumato.

I saw it hit the Prime Minister as fast as it did me. With him standing behind Meilori, his dagger took on a whole new meaning.

This whole scene had been a ruse, planned by Meilori and Sam. Meilori could take Solomon's ring from Sam because she hadn't meant to keep it in the first place. This had all been a set-up to draw out the real ....

"Traitor!" snapped Sam, and I heard his Colt bark once.

The Prime Minister reeled to the carpet dead, the dagger still in his hand. Meilori arched a cool eyebrow to me.

"Standish, despite what the arrogance of youth believes, we adults know what we are doing."

Her brows knitted together dangerously. "Now, about that 'she-bitch' remark ...."

I sighed. Ever have one of those lives?

GHOST OF A CHANCE_CHAPTER 21_THEY WERE NEVER DEFEATED;THEY WERE ONLY KILLED

{"If there's one guy,

just one guy

Who'd lay down his life for you and die

It's hard to say it

I hate to say it,

but it's probably me."

- Sting ("It's Probably Me.)}

{Samuel Clemens, ghost, again. Roland has managed to escape DayStar but with the threat of a return engagement.

Meilori's, being what it is, we are still not safe. We are not even in the same galaxy with "safe." And I will let Roland take it from here.} :


As DayStar's laughter lingered in the shadows,

the world around us smudged like a wet painting being smeared by an angry, dissatisfied artist.

The tango dancers were replaced by men in tuxedo's and women in gowns. Grace Jones was gone.

Duke Ellington and his band replaced her, playing "Harlem Nocturne." I felt as if I had wandered into some hellish nightclub of the 1930's.

Marlene hugged my right arm. "You were so brave, Liebling."

I felt sick inside. "I was not brave. I was what I had to be."

One finely etched eyebrow arched, and Marlene husked, "That is what it is to be brave."

Mark Twain winked and nodded. "What she said ... but without the sexy throb."

From the table to our left laughed a shockingly familar voice, ""I've seen it go worse with DayStar."

I turned and stiffened. A mature Humphrey Bogart. And next to him, a young Lauren Bacall. And across from them both,

the revenant (vampire),Major Strasser, in his dress white Gestapo uniform.

In his right hand was a luger. Pointed right at us.

His arching black eyebrows reminded me of swooping birds of prey. The black moustache seemed almost to crawl above his thin lips.

His eyes were as flat and glassy as a snake's ... but without as much warmth. "I will take care of the 'worse.'"

Mark Twain grunted, "What is it with everyone and lugers? They think one in the hand means the world by the tail."

Major Strasser barked a laugh. "Or a nuisance in the grave."
***

NEXT TOP TITLE BLOGFEST/VENICE IS FOR VAMPIRES

Today is the day for Slushpile Slut 's {It's the old world gentleman in me, but everytime I write those words, I expect an invisible hand to slap me.} NEXT TOP TITLE BLOGFEST
http://slushpileslut.blogspot.com/2010/05/americas-next-top-title-blogfestfinally.html

And here they are :

1) AN ARIA FOR HITLER
2) VENICE IS FOR VAMPIRES
3) CITY OF LIGHTS, SHADOWS OF DEATH
4) CANALS OF WATER, STREAMS OF BLOOD
5) DEATH NEVER FORGETS

Hope you like them. Tell me what you think, all right?

If you'd like to see a scene from my WIP that I dreamed, go to this post from April :
http://rolandyeomans.blogspot.com/2010/04/twixt-wing-and-wind.html

I'm listening to the reflective "Shape of My Heart" by Sting {Gordon Matthew Sumner.} He is a longtime activist for the hurting, composing and singing "Driven To Tears" while still with The Police -- it was an angry indictment of apathy in the face of world hunger. He kept on with his crusade for those in need ever since. On January 22, 2010, he once again sang "Driven To Tears" during the global telethon HOPE FOR HAITI. Check out his website http://www.sting.com

SPECIAL DAYS

When Gypsy, my cat, starts wearing sunglasses because she doesn't want passers-by on our terrace to recognize her, I know it's time to clean up the apartment a bit. Hey, I'm a bachelor. We have different standards of neat.

Our landlord obviously cares about our cardio health so he has the apartment trash bin several time zones away. One day I will need a passport to get there. Anyway, I rounded the pick-up truck parked in front of the bin, only to have the bent-over drunk hidden by the vehicle heave all over my shoes.

And that's when I knew it was going to be one of those special days.

She was pretty -- for a drunk that had spewed all over my shoes that is. Alcohol on the breath is hardly attractive. When the smell comes from vomit, it's hardly an aphrodisiac. But I thought I recognized her from the complex. The way she was swaying, she wouldn't make it back to her apartment on her own. The Good Guy reflex kicked in.

"Do I know you?," I asked.

"God, I hope not," she moaned and staggered down the street.

And that's when I knew it was going to be one of those extra special days.

I felt like the punchline in that old joke ...and the pig got up and slowly walked away.

I watched her make it to the convenience store directly across the street and heaved a sigh of relief. Now, she was their problem.

I took off my shoes and dumped them in the trash bin as well. I walked the long way around back to my apartment to keep from provoking the Hound of the Baskervilles at the near end of my terrace. His owner sounds like he will hit him to quiet him whenever he barks and bays as I pass by. And while the dog looks like a cross between an anvil and a Clydesdale, I remember Shadow.

Shadow was a minature Chow from my days when I had a house. A neighbor abused him to make him a mean watch dog. All he did was break his spirit so the man put the dog out on the streets. In our city, the pound kills Chows without trying to adopt them out. I figured the poor little guy had had enough tough breaks.

I lured him into my backyard with food. He would never come into my home, never let me touch him. But he followed at my heels, wagging his tail and happy to see me outside, never coming within reach of my fingers. Fingers that could curl into a fist. But he was always at my heels whenever I was working in my backyard. So I named him Shadow.

When my house burned down, I was out of commission from the burns for a few days though I made sure the backyard gate was secured. Upon my return to the backyard, I found someone had poisoned Shadow. And then, after two years, I was finally able to touch Shadow's soft black fur when I delivered him to my vet to be taken care of. And, yes, my eyes are wet while I'm writing this.

Anyway!

So I took the long way back to my apartment on sock feet to protect the Hound of the Baskervilles. When I got to my apartment door, I reached for the apartment keys tucked under my belt to find them missing. They had dropped off somewhere along the long way around. I would have to walk on sock feet in search of them.

That's when I knew today was going to be one of those extra, extra special days.

Gypsy coolly viewed me through the window with one eyebrow arched as if to say, "My brain's the size of a walnut. What's your excuse?"

I laughed and said, "I'm human. That says it all." She arched the other brow as if agreeing with me. Like I said, it is one of those special days.

I'm listening to the reflective "Shape of My Heart" by Sting {Gordon Matthew Sumner.} He is a longtime activist for the hurting, composing and singing "Driven To Tears" while still with The Police -- it was an angry indictment of apathy in the face of world hunger. He kept on with his crusade for those in need ever since. On January 22, 2010, he once again sang "Driven To Tears" during the global telethon HOPE FOR HAITI. Check out his website http://www.sting.com/