Stel Tsolakides
Bio
My thoughts sometime get away from me, what I write is the result of that runaway brainI like to try different styles and experiment with formats, sometimes it works, sometimes...not so much.
Stories (7)
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Fear the Darkness
It's where the killers wait to pounce,Bloodshot eyes with pinpoint stares,Flesh and blood and bone,It's where the monsters hide,Twisted maws and dripping fangs,Claws and talons and teeth,It's where nightmares come to life,The scary things from childhood,Screams and tears and pain,
By Stel Tsolakides7 years ago in Poets
Chikan
She stands there in front of me,Like a ray of light,Trapped in this drab grey prison,I move in close,Close enough to touch her,She’s so close I can smell her,My hand grazes the back of her skirt,She doesn’t react, doesn’t look,She doesn’t move away,No one else is looking,They’re all morning zombies,Stuck in stasis on the train of their lives,My fingers tease along her hemline,Slowly lifting up her skirt,Revealing the pale flesh beneath,My nails trace lines across her skin,I hear a quick intake of breath,She reaches round to stop me,Her hand fumbles for my wrist,I hold it still with ease,I pull it toward my groin,She starts to struggle,My smile only widens,Still no one sees a thing,With her hand firmly held, rubbing me,My free fingers travel up beneath her blouse,Tracing up along the lace outline of her bra,She puts up a fight,She puts on a show,She doesn’t cry out, not once,Her wriggling only exposes the white meat,Her nipples are hard, her breathing quick,She knows she’s mine,She wants this, even more than I do,I taste her neck and press into her,So hard now I need to stab at her from behind,I quiver with anticipation,Just a little longer now,Only this cotton covers her mound,Practically offering her to me,My fingers feel her every line,She’s wet,Her true colours revealed,The whore shows herself,I push the cotton aside,I release myself and take what’s mine,Not a single eye turns our way,Either through ignorance or choice,Everyone is blind,She moans a little man,That hint of joy escapes her,The telltale sign of excitement,It doesn’t take me long,We’re both done in minutes,The train stops and the doors open,I put myself away and leave,Neither of us turn around,She takes a few seconds to clean herself up,She always does,I know she’s grinning to herself,She enjoys it more than me,I have a kinky wife.
By Stel Tsolakides7 years ago in Poets
Older
Slowly abandoned by my mind,Searching for memories I’ll never find,Leaving faces and names behind,I’m growing old before my time,I watch my friends as they age and die,There’s no tears left, they’ve all run dry,Now I sit here for hours watching minutes go by,I’m growing old and I don’t know why,My wife has left me all alone,In the ground now, dust and bone,Strange how I miss the way she’d moan,I’m growing old all on my own,I no longer recognise my own face,As though I’ve left without a trace,I’m losing pace, I’ve lost this race,I’m growing old and without grace.
By Stel Tsolakides7 years ago in Poets
Plane Crash
The random rocking of the room,The melancholy looks of impending doom,The sultry vixen losing all of her charm,The panicking voice calling out “Keep calm!”The sudden increase of holy religions,The abrupt outbreak of sordid confessions,The shrieking cries, the streaming tears,The build up of tensions and rising of fears,The angelic looks on pale faces,The stillness of scattered bodies and cases,The bride and groom, hands still gripped tight,The clothes, the skin, both far too white,The mother still clinging onto her babe,The crying now ceased, no longer afraid,The old couple smiling, content with their lives,This dark night that made widows from wives.
By Stel Tsolakides7 years ago in Poets
