I’m really feeling like I’m back into the rythm of things, and it starts with making sure I actually do the things I set out to do. With any other resolution, I have to hope it’ll stick this time. And to put all the chances on my side, I’m starting slow this time, instead of
I have been in Lisbon for about two weeks, but haven’t done much in terms of visiting. I have some beautiful pictures of the neighborhood of Belem. Of its tower and its monastery I did visit a close-by little town of the name of Cascais with a Norwegian friend I met in Madrid. I’ve got
This was the question asked in this week Flash Fiction Challenge on Chuck Wendig’s blog, and I thought it was a good question to start the new chapter of my blogging experience. I don’t always feel like I know how to answer this question. I write because I do. But that’s not really the most
I’ve been travelling throught Europe for almost three months, and I still haven’t blog about it. I’ve travelled in ten different countries, and I still have about five to go until I get home. I’m leaving Barcelona for Madrid tomorrow morning, and after two weeks at the same place, I feel a little bit sad
Cover created by MC Houle, For the Love is an Open Road Event Publication Dates to be determined
In the upcoming hours, I’m getting ready to get into a plane to Paris. The plan; a five months backpacking trip where I’ll follow the wind. I have little plans… A few days in Paris, then Mons in Belgium to see my younger sister. A workshop in Berlin I’m really excited about, and for which
ABOUT THE BOOK Title: The Eye And The Arm Series: Champion of the Gods Book 2 BLURB: After defeating Meglar at Belsport, Farrell returns to Haven to recover from his injuries, but Khron, the god of war, has other ideas. He gives Farrell a new mission: free the survivors of the ancient dwarf realm of
I’ll always remember the first time I saw Okos. I was fifteen years old, and I was watching one of those meaningless TV show about obnoxious jackass with Jiffy whining in the background. I was doing a great job ignoring her, but my mother was having none of it.
“Jan, could you please let the dog out,” she asked me with a voice that made it clear I wasn’t to argue.
I sighed, but I grabbed the leash anyway. Jiffy was just too happy to oblige, and I waited for her while complaining in my yet inexistent beard.
That’s when I saw him.
He held a garbage bag in each hand, and he was hurrying to the green can on the side of his house. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him, tall and handsome, and a few years too old for me. I watched him get back inside, flustered, and when I pulled Jiffy back into the house, I couldn’t deny my attraction to men anymore.
But I was fifteen, and I moved on. I’ve had dates and boyfriends, and more than once, I thought I’d found the one. I could never forget the first time I told myself I was gay.
*
It took ten years for words to be spoken between us. I was single for the first Valentine Day in years, and my well-meaning roommate thought it best to force me out of my solitude by pulling me into our local pub.
We’d just ordered beers when a warm melody stole my focus. The man on stage had black curled hair illuminated by the dark red lights and long fingers brushing a guitar. I didn’t recognize him then, but the low raspy voice as he sang his heartbreaking song enthralled me. Our eyes met, and the pub’s lonely hearts disappeared around me when he smiled.
Eventually, the acoustic music was replaced, and I remember the excitement as Okos headed for the bar. The barwoman slid him a glass of whiskey which he sipped before smiling at me.
“Hi,” he said, the gruff sound of his voice sending pleasant shiver to my body.
Right there, I almost forgot how to speak. “You’re really good.”
“Thanks, I’m Okos.”
“January.”
His confusion was nothing new, but I chuckled nonetheless. “It’s my name. January. But everyone just call me Jan.”
He moved closer to me, and my heart missed a beat. “Let me guess,” he said, “you were born in January.”
“July, actually.”
He laughed then, and the sound of it made my body noticed how close he was. “Someone had a sense of humour.”
I was about to ask if he wanted to get out of there when we were interrupted by his friends. Alone at the bar once again, I didn’t notice right away the card he’d left with his empty whiskey glass.
*
I didn’t call him the next day or the one after that. But I kept going back to our meeting in my head; his laughter, the musky undefined scents of his skin, the lingering touches of our fingers just before he left. Twice, I found myself doodling him instead of working on my current freelance project.
The more I thought about him, the more I felt as if I had seen him before. I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
When I finally did call him, I was a nervous wreck. I wasn’t new to hookups and dating, but I believe my subconscious already knew calling him was a life altering decision.
Our first date was – well, it was a first date; we got to learn about each other in semi awkwardness. I learned he was a music teacher in my old high school, which lead to the revelation that Okos was, in fact, the hot neighbour I’d fantasize about for a long-ago summer.
Before I knew it, we had a house, two cats and a ring on each other’s finger.
One hell of a happily ever after bliss. Or you know, a honeymoon pink tinted one.
The End.
MC Houle