Death Camp Dreaming

This is a bit off topic for my blog but I hope you enjoy it all the same. The next post will be back on track I promise.

Ruby thrashed in cold sweat under a net of tangled sheets. Terrified panic smothered her, gripped her throat, squeezed it hard. She bolted upright and gasped heavily for cool, calming air. Sweet relief washed over her as she turned to check she hadn’t woken Jack. He was not in their bed. She strained to hear people whispering downstairs.

“Oh Rubyyyy” his eerie voice gently beckoned. “Pull on some clothes and come down, darling”.

Her husband’s cheery tone confused her, intrigued her, she slipped into a dress and floated over the stairs to meet him. He was absolutely filthy, like he had been buried alive wearing an old top hat and coat tails. He took her hand, and with a crooked smile and sweeping chivalry, ushered her to their backyard.

As soon as they stepped foot outside glaringly bright daylight stung her eyes and scorched her skin. Dazed, dizzy, she squinted to see a throng of zombies milling around them, shuffling in stoic unison toward a red brick building. Their low, droning voices a swarm of bees circling her head. She hesitated.

“Oh, don’t worry my dear”, he said, excitement pitched his voice high. “We’re going for a wonderful shower”, he threw his arm out with grandeur, encouraging Ruby to soak up the beautiful, warm atmosphere. Her stomach sank as she took it all in. The dust. The perfectly lined rows of barns and houses. The workers. The uniforms. The putrid stench of death.

Their clothes had vanished.

Her heart raced as turned to fight through the brain-dead crowd. Her house was far away behind them, a beacon in the dark shadow of night. She reached out for it, willing it to be closer. The tide held her steady, her husband grabbed her and violently tossed her into the building.

“Just a wonderful shower”. He sneered bringing his face a centimeter from her own. The Cheshire cat grin showed her a mouth half full of disgusting, rotting teeth. She recoiled and spun around, there were no showers! The crowd crammed in. Daylight filtered through holes in the roof. A door slammed shut. Ruby couldn’t move. The droning buzz escalated to shrill, gut-piercing screams, echoing off the concrete walls. The noise rose and rose, drilling in her head, it was sure to explode! She closed her eyes tight and screamed. Everything snapped.


The absolute calm and silence of a gentle, cool breeze stirred the midnight air. Bewildered, she slowly opened her eyes to find herself thigh deep in their swimming pool, her summer dress dancing gracefully in the glassy water. She stiffened at his presence.

“Hello, darling” her husband hissed, his breath on her neck shooting a shiver up her spine. She froze, barely breathing, waiting for him to make his move.

Cobra hands shot to her neck and ripped her clean out of the water. He forced her head under water while she thrashed and fought and tried desperately to plant her feet. She found the floor, and pushed herself up with all her strength but the concrete crumbled beneath her and fell away. Jack floated above the surface, a distorted, grimacing face, laughing at her with his hands firm on her throat. A scream welled in her lungs, she opened her mouth to let it out and everything went black.

Ruby thrashed in cold sweat under tangled sheets. Terrified panic smothered her, gripped her throat, squeezed it hard. She bolted upright and gasped heavily for cool, calming air. She turned to check she hadn’t woken her husband and found herself alone in her single bed. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief and smiled as she hit the snooze button.

Today, she would be a little late for school.



The house sighs heavily through open windows, empty without you, shivering loneliness blots out the searing midday sun. The television flirts loudly for my attention, but I barely notice, checking my phone compulsively, wondering why you are so late. Agony rises with the tick of the clock. My stomach, heavy like a stone, warns me you wont show. Tears prick my eyes and my throat, it chokes, how could you stand me up like this?
There is a knock on my door, I leap to attention, it’s you! Apologizing profusely, kissing me on the cheek. It’s fine!, I smile, foolish for doubting you mere moments before. There is no time to offer you wine. I need you in my arms.
We lay together in my bed, our skin tingling with electric heat,
ecstatic to feel our warm embrace, to smell our hair, to touch our skin.
You frown at me. “I love you, you know”
I nod in mute sadness, it wretches my heart, furrows my brow. You kiss me tenderly to pacify me, to tell me we’re going to be alright.
Dusk swallows my cosy nest, how quickly the day passes with you in my arms! Dread clutches me as the night quickly falls. I can’t bare for you to leave but nor can I beg you to stay. We both know that by now you should be at home with your husband.

Post natal disturbance

I hope you had a nice chuckle at my last post  because you may find this one disturbing. Consider this fair warning.

Their nursery bathes in the soft glow of the late afternoon sun. I watch the impostors as they sleep, my shirt rigid from months of tears, my fragile mind crumbling in my dusty skull. They have sucked me dry and left me void, those greedy little leeches, how could they possibly be my sons?

I sit for an age, huddled in a shadowed corner, afraid to touch any of their belongings. They would be so mad at me if I touched their things.

Awake seconds apart, they begin to cry out for me. The noise of their shrill, demanding screams drills angrily into my head. I crawl into their closet for refuge and close the door behind me. Burying my head in my arms and rocking quietly in the darkness, I “shush” myself until calmness comes.

Time passes by, how much I can not say and the noise outside stops. I cautiously open the door and approach the boys’ cribs. They smile and laugh at me, tormenting me, I yell at them to stop being so awful, so evil. I fantasize about throwing them hard against the nearest wall and leaving them in a heap on the ground. Panic strikes, forcing my throat to burn and my head to spin. I turn and run for the phone to call my husband.

“It’s happening again” I whisper into the receiver. “I need to see a doctor!! I need some medication”.

“You know my family don’t believe in medicating” he told me. “Trust in our Lord and he will get you through”.

He swiftly hung up on me as he always does. The shun paralyses me. I let the receiver fall to the floor while reality slips away.

I sit soaking wet on cold tiles, hugging my knees as I stare at water dripping from my overfilled bathtub. I don’t need to peer over the edge to know what is in there. The house is so dark, so still and eerily quiet. I just sit in a catatonic state, waiting for someone to come and get me and take me away.

stirring in the strip club

She said her name was Angel but I really didn’t care. Her cleavage was incredible and although she looked great in lingerie, I wanted to see her naked. After flirting for ten minutes she asked for $50, which I gladly paid, and then led me into a dimly lit private room with an old leather couch.

She was obviously horny when she told me that it was against the rules to touch her. Her eyes glazed and her chest heaved so I knew she wanted me to, I just wasn’t really supposed to. I told her I understood perfectly, she smiled so devilishly and began to undress a meter in front of me.

She swayed and rolled her hips, coming closer and closer to me, then got on her knees right in between my legs and slid off her bra. She leaned into me, pressing her soft breasts hard against my chest. I could smell vanilla on her skin, coconut in her hair and young, hot blood. My jeans grew uncomfortably tight. She noticed and stood up, turning her back on me. Slowly she eased her g-string all the way down to her ankles, never bending her knees at all. What a perfect sight, her bent over so close to me. She was just waiting for it, for me to touch her.

So I reached out and grazed my fingers between her legs. I didn’t get the reaction I had hoped for. She spun around in a rage and smacked me hard in the mouth, yelling at me, saying I was disgusting. What a fucking bitch! She was practically begging me for it. Two seconds later security grabbed me by the shirt, choking me and dragged me to the exit.  He punched me in the face, breaking my nose and knocking me to the pavement. I went to wipe the blood away and smelled her on my fingers. I laughed.

It was worth it.

we’re all prostitutes

I’m not sure why I agreed to a third date with Mike. He wasn’t attractive but for some reason he had it in his head that he was. Mike also thought he was hilarious, which he was not. He took me to nice places though, the kind I couldn’t have afforded on my measly bar tender wages. And despite having hairy knuckles and a tendency to swear a lot he treated me like a lady.

It hit me half way through dinner that, no matter how good the food was, it came at too high a price when he handed me a small box. My face dropped.

“What is it?” I inquired, trying to force a somewhat excited tone.

He said nothing and waited for me to open it.

Inside was a pair of stunning quarter (or so) carat stud earrings. I sighed a heavy sigh.

“They’re amazing, Mike!” I said and drew him close for a restaurant appropriate thank you kiss. He seemed very pleased with himself.

“I’ve booked a room at the Plaza for us tonight” he whispered to me, trying to look romantic but pulling off a weird sort of half asleep look.

My reaction was not what I had anticipated when I had thought about the prospect of sex with Mike. At the start of the night it was absolutely off the table. But now?

“That sounds amazing” I smiled, and reached for our bottle of champagne.

By the end of our meal I was drunk enough not to care too much about Mike’s annoying personality or beer gut, and we went to the Plaza and had some pretty unremarkable sex. He fell asleep not long after he was finished and having no intention of waking up next to him, I snuck out of the hotel.

We never went on another date and I wear those earrings daily. My flatmate asked me if I felt bad about it and I told her honestly, no. She frowned at me then went upstairs to have sex with her boyfriend because she needed him in a good mood before she told him she’d scratched his car trying to parallel park.

I suspected he would be getting a blow job.

the coma

Silently she sits, never leaving the bed, his tiny, fragile hand resting limp in her own. All she wishes for is a squeeze, a wiggle or a flinch of an eyelid. Machines and tubes keep her little boy breathing. Fat tears freely fall, crashing heavy as her heart to the floor as she stares at him.

Fixates on him.

Looking for something she wills to find but can not see.

Her husband is at her back, resting a palm on her shoulder. The weight is too much and she swipes herself away. His touch is toxic. His presence unbearable.

It was an accident. An accident.

Perhaps if her little boy wakes she could fight to forgive her husband. She wants to believe it, but somehow is certain that day will never, ever come.

a crush on my son’s friend

This story is inspired by the headline “Sexting mum ordered off the web” from the ninemsn Australia news website.

My heart is racing, I can’t  take my eyes off his text.

“Y dnt u pxt them 2 me? ;)”

My husband is snoring. Good. He is a ridiculously heavy sleeper. Once our smoke alarm went off and he didn’t even stir as I got up to turn it off and check on the kids. The rat bags were making toast.

I locate the photos in question on my phone. I’m completely naked, draped over my bed. Nothing too lewd, hopefully sexy. One is only of my tits. I’ll let him see that one first.

Blood thuds in my ears, among other places.  I glance at my husband again. No movement.

Send. Send. Send.

I giggle to myself then wait nervously for a reply. Ten whole minutes pass.

He doesn’t like it, does he? I frown, then start to panic, I’ve made a huge mistake!

My phone lights up.

“Wow ur so hot Ms B”

Thank. God.

“Aw you’re sweet” I reply ” Tomorrow when you get home from school I want one of you. Make sure you’re rock hard for me baby”

Let’s see what he’s packing.

Perhaps that’s a bit too far. But my god, he’s so gorgeous! And incredibly mature for 16.  My son bought him home a fortnight ago after school so they could work on something or other for science. He flirted with me, not outrageously, but enough to make me well aware of his interest. I was flattered.

Crushes develop so quickly, don’t they?

And for now I guess it’s so far, so harmless.