Michael Watts
Bio
I'm excited to be a part of this community sharing my passion for reading and writing.
Stories (2)
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Oh Richmond Blue Eyes
Oh, Richmond Blue Eyes! Love. Fuck. By: Michael Watts ---------- My heart still skips a beat every time I think of you. And how can I not? I’m not obsessed. I’m hurt. More than hurt, because I still love you. Still crave your touch. Your voice. That incredible way you look at me and make me melt, make me weak, make me strong, make me long to hold you close and never stop putting a smile on your face. Our conversations that went on and on but never bored, never left me feeling distracted. Your kisses leave me immensely thirsty for more. I love the way you ask for more. More of that good, sorry.. AMAZING sex. You touched me in a way I cannot imitate with anyone. I still crave you physically. Crave you emotionally. The way I long to see you when we’re apart. The times we make plans to see each other. The times when you stop responding out of the blue. The times when I start to give up hope. The times I think I’ll never see you again... Then I do. Out of the blue you and it starts all over. The longing, the love, the fear of when it will end this time. It feels so good. It hurts. I try to forget, try to bury it, try to move past it. I see your face again. It all rushes back. You make my heart beat in a cycle I can’t escape. Love you. Fuck you. Love you. Fuck you... I volley emotions as the rhythm continues. Love. Fuck. Love. Fuck. Love. Fuck...
By Michael Watts4 years ago in Confessions
The Unknown
Without warning, the house begins to shudder with a deep, rising vibration. The room pulses as the floor trembles beneath them. Bubbling violently, the once flat tiles of the kitchen transform, rising into a mass with only the white and grey pattern of the marble from which it comes. Absorbing the room around it, a creature enlarges as it begins to take form. Frozen in fear, Gabriella screams as a glare from its dark liquid eyes stare down towards their infant child. Antoni reaches down swiftly and scoops his daughter from her rocker, yelling for his wife to run! They flee towards the door, rushing anxiously from the kitchen down the hall as they try to escape. But what are they running from? Where did it come from? Why was it looking at Olivia? Whatever it is, it seems to take on the outward skin of any material it touches, transitioning to the mahogany flooring of the hallway as the deep blue persian rug rolls slowly towards them like an ocean swell approaching land. It creeps as if it were intentionally holding back, learning their movements and waiting for the right opportunity to strike. Stalking them with the prowess of a lioness hunting an unsuspecting fawn. Its outer appearance changes from the hardwood floors, to the deep leather skin of the couch as it inches closer. The form ripples through the living room walls adorned with antique family paintings and heirlooms as Antoni slams the oversized doors of the entryway closed behind him. They rush out of the house, desperately piling into their car. Their minds race with fear as they pull away, unsure of where they’re going, just leaving, leaving their home behind, leaving the life that they had built for so long, leaving their dream-world.
By Michael Watts5 years ago in Fiction
