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July 15, 2009

FREE STORY - The Storm (Sweet Paranormal Romance)


"The Storm" - sweet paranormal romance.

Short story by Elizabeth Black. Cover art by Gary A. Gabbard.



After getting caught yet again with another man's wife, Robbie walked to Salt Island from the shore to nurse his wounded ego and his wounded face. He falls into a drunken sleep and awakens to find himself trapped on the island since tide came in - and a nor'easter is coming. He has to get off of this island before the storm hits. To make matters worse, the ocean is glowing an iridescent maroon. That could only mean one thing - an appearance of notorious pirate, Captain Samuel Black, and his ship, the Prospero. Robbie calls his best friend, Ian, and his former girlfriend, Kate, to get him off this island. Kate is now Ian's wife, but Robbie still carries a torch for her. Will Ian and Kate get Robbie off that island before the storm and the pirate find him first?


I watched the sky. The full moon gaped at me, as if it was astonished that I hadn't left when the walkway was available. A shooting star skated by like a pebble skipping across the ocean's waves. I didn't make a wish this time. I saw some of the same constellations we looked at our first evening here – the Big Dipper, Cassiopeia, and Pegasus. Tendrils from the looming fog tugged at the Northern Cross.

The temperature had dropped. My breath came out in jagged white bursts. I wore faded jeans, a navy blue sweater, and my black trench coat, but my clothing was not thick enough to keep the cold from slicing through. There were areas with more dense growth and underbrush around the island. I knew Kate wanted me to wait by our tree, but it was tall and it called to the lightning that was coming closer by the minute. Its branches already bore scars from previous strikes. I felt the rumbling thunder between my shoulder blades. I didn't want to be under the willow when lightning struck it.

I stood unsteadily, the alcoholic fog in my brain matched by the fog that approached the island. I scanned the rocks by the light of the full moon. Beach wormwood and overgrown brush dotted the landscape. I didn't see anything nearby that looked like shelter. I stumbled towards the side of the island that faced the ocean. I didn't often go to that side because it meant climbing some steep rocks to the top of the island. I was not particularly coordinated when I was sober. Drunk, I walked like marionette. Even though my stomach felt like it was on fire, I was not hung over. I was still drunk. The island spun. I focused on a tree here, a shrub there, to keep my balance. I crossed the peak of the island and headed down the other side. Ahead of me was a thick patch of shrubbery and several tree trunks that jutted out from between the rocks like a deer's antlers from its head. I walked slowly and monitored my breathing. At least I didn't feel like throwing up yet. The hangover wouldn't come on for a few more hours.

The island grew dark. A few raindrops splashed my face. Ugly black clouds obscured the starlit sky. I was exhausted from the climbing and walking. When I reached the dead trees, I glanced at the ocean, and was horrified at what I saw. The surface was as smooth as glass. The maroon-tinted water glowed, brightening and dimming, throbbing, as if a monstrous heart pumped blood from deep beneath the ocean's surface. This was the motionless, quiet sea Ian had told me about, the same sea that would give way to the pounding maelstrom that approached not far from me. The storm was moving fast.

Posted on July 15, 2009 at 03:29 PM | Permalink


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Posted by: LINDA B at Jul 16, 2009 6:06:59 PM

Thanks, Linda! I hope you enjoyed the story.

Posted by: The Countess at Jul 16, 2009 10:18:26 PM

That was great - you write really well.
I have just started writing erotic stories and I find that reading good erotica really helps me improve my writing so thanks for sharing. Keep up the good work.

Posted by: Sexy Writer at Jul 30, 2009 7:36:48 AM

I watched the sky. The full moon gaped at me, as if it was astonished that I hadn't left when the walkway was available. A shooting star skated by like a pebble skipping across the ocean's waves.

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