I Bruise Easily

The stone wall was cold against Amelia's back, it was a stark contrast to the hot finger that were tracing a line down her neck, along her jawline and over the ridge of her collarbones, these were followed with soft, light  but equally hot kisses. She could feel the difference in texture and tempurature of the mask that was on the mans face, and the rest of him, the mask was very cold like the stone and the rest of him was very warm. He pulled back to look in to her eyes. Both of them were wearing masks as it was the Lovers days banquet, many of the guests were wearing the masks. His was emerald green on the top half, there was detailing on the bottom half, which looked like a collection of musical notes and fleur de lis painted black on the cream background, the rest of the mask was boardered in gold, which curled inwards ever so slighlty at regular intervals around the edge of the mask, his eyes dark eyes looked black against the gold that framed them. Her mask was red, it had red lace detailing, it was made to match her corset, which was restraining her breathing a little. Her chest heaved as her heart quickened at the gentle ministrations of the mystery gentleman, he was dressed almost completly in black, the only colour was the mask that adorned his face.

Each touch was featherlight, she thought that if he applied anymore pressure she might come out in bruises. One of his hands stopped tracing lines on the bare skin of her neck to gently weave in to her long hair, he pulled carefully indicating her to move her head to lean up in to him, thier lips met, the cold wall behind her was no longer keeping her in a temperate balance. Her hands went from resting on his chest to encirling his neck, pulling her flush against his tall frame. His free hand made a line up the left side of her ribcage to her shoulder then to the wall where he backed her in to once again. The kiss deepened for a breif second before he pulled away again, he was flushed, his lips were red and his eyes were completely black now. He took hold of her left hand, holding it palm up, running his index finger over her silvery tattoo, her skin tingled at the touch, she then visibly shivered when he made a trail of light kisses from the tattoo up her arm. Amelia was unsure of what to do, she was at a social event and a prominent member of the community, her friends would notice if she was gone for a long time. Even if this was Lovers Day she had a standard. Other men she had been with had skipped dinner and went straight to dessert as they say. She didn't even know who this man was, she did think though they he might not be thinking about that right now, though she has been wrong before. She took her hand from his and ran it across his cheek, he closed his eyes and leaned in to her touch, she though she heard a cross between a sigh and a groan resinate from his chest. Amelia pulled him down in to another kiss this time she wasn't as gentle, his hands grasped her hips, her lips then moved down his strong jaw to his neck, she nipped at the skin in the curve of his neck and shoulder, this gave her a gasp and his hands to tighten on thier grip. She grinned at this reaction and decided to do the same but harder, as he had left his mark of tracing a gentle pattern over her skin, she would leave a mark of her own, she pulled back the collar of his jacket and bit down a little harder, this action ilicited a louder groan and caused her mystery in a mask to lean in her her. She pulled back covering the mark.
"There is a demon in you after all my lady" The mans voice was husky and deep.
She moved her hands down his sides. She couldn't find any words to say. She then heard someone leaving the guildhall. He kissed her one last time before moving away, he looked towards the enterence of the hall. He motioned her to go in and she did.

The next morning she found the mask on the pillow beside her and a note.
"Until the next time my lady".


My skin is like a map, of where my heart has been
And I can't hide the marks, but it's not a negative thing
So I let down my guard, drop my defenses, down by my clothes
I'm learning to fall, with no safety net, to cushion the blow

I bruise easily, so be gentle when you handle me
There's a mark you leave, like a love heart carved (DOWN) a tree
I bruise easily, you can scratch the surface without moving me
Underneath
I bruise easily, I bruise easily

I've found your fingerprints on a glass of wine
Do you know you're leaving them all over this heart of mine, too
But if I never take this leap of faith, I'll never know
So I'm learning to fall with no safety net to cushion the blow

I bruise easily, so be gentle when you handle me
There's a mark you leave, like a love heart carved (DOWN) a tree
I bruise easily, you can scratch the surface without moving me
Underneath
I bruise easily, I bruise easily

Anyone who
Can touch you
Can hurt you
Or heal you.
Anyone who
Can reach you
Can love you
Or leave you...

So be gentle
So be gentle
So be gentle
So be gentle

I bruise easily, so be gentle when you handle me
There's a mark you leave, like a love heart carved (DOWN) a tree
I bruise easily, you can scratch the surface without moving me
Underneath
I bruise easily,

I bruise easily, so be gentle when you handle me
There's a mark you leave, like a love heart carved (DOWN) a tree
I bruise easily, you can scratch the surface without moving me
Underneath
I bruise easily, I bruise easily

I bruise easily
I bruise easily

These Words.

Natalie was a bard, one of the best bards in Brisel, Ithron. Over the past decade she had written songs, stories and poems on past battles, historical moments, love, loss, kings, queens, monster and the great adventurers of Ithron.

For the first time in nine years she hit a writters block. Her last work was on the sucsess in Ethron with the encrouching undead and the beacon. Most of her sources had been there themselves, some even had access to the adventurers camp on Hill Tara, she did not go herself so she could catch any good stories in the beautiful city that she called her home. Everyone loved her stories, her friends called her the sorceress of story telling as she was a natural. But she was stumped. She would pace her house trying to find some inspiration. The only thing she had come up with was a song about her struggle to find the write words. She wanted to write something on the Kings recent engagement to the Tholonian Princess, but what she had heard about the trouble with Llaminisu and Tholon, she was unsure of what to write, she nevermeant to write to lie or to cause trouble, she would just have to wait until her source had something good or wait until the wedding itself. There was a rhythm and beat going around her head along with a few words.

Threw some chords together, the combination D-E-F
Its who I am, its what I do, and I was gonna lay it down for you
I tried to focus my attention, but I feel so A-D-A
I need some help, some inspiration, but its not coming easily



That wasn't so hard. She thought to her self, she could feel the fog of uncertainty ebbing away as more words came to her.

Tryin to find the magic,
Tryin to write a classic,
Dontcha know, dontcha know, dontcha know?
Wastebin full of paper,
clever rhymes- see ya later

She thought about the king. This was a happy time for him. She iniatlly wanted it to be solely about his enagement but it could be intertwined with not being about to find the right words to say. The I love you part was on behalf of all his loyal subjects across the lands.

These words are my own, from my heart flow,
I love you, i love you, i love you, i love you,
There's no other way to better say
I love you, i love you

Read some Renfeild, Connor and Keates,
recited it over a soulfire beat
I'm havin trouble sayin what i mean,
with dead poets and a drum machine

The soulfire beats were meant to be a metaphor for something raw, with a certain spark.She also wanted to pay homage to her best source over in Ethron. The Bard community was very close.

You know i had some research time booked,
but i couldnt find the killer hook,
now you're gonna raise the bar right up,
nothin i write is ever good enough

These words are my own, from my heart flow,
I love you, i love you, i love you, i love you,
There's no other way to better say
I love you, i love you

These words are my own, from my heart flow,
I love you, i love you, i love you, i love you,
There's no other way to better say
I love you, i love you

I'm gettin off my stage
the curtains pull away
No hyperboles to hide behind
My naked soul exposes
woaaaaahNaked is how she felt writing about not really being able to find the correct thing to say, her peices were ususally flawless.

Tryin to find the magic,
Tryin to write a classic,
Wastebin full of paper,
clever rhymes- see ya later

These words are my own, from my heart flow,
I love you, i love you, i love you, i love you,
There's no other way to better say
I love you, i love you

These words are my own, from my heart flow,
I love you, i love you, i love you, i love you,
There's no other way to better say
I love you, i love you

These words are my own, from my heart
I love you I love you, thats all i got to say
cant think of a better way, and thats all i got to say
I love you, is that ok?

She had been writing it down as she went, she looked at the finished work, read it through and changed a few words. Over the next few days she would wonder her house singing her song, making sure it was perfect for the crowd.

After her preformance she was congratualted by the crowd.

Identity, Its only psychological.

This is my competion piece, it is long as its 2000 words long.

Who is Poppy Hogan?  How would he identify her in a crowd full of people? Would he know what to look for if you only had a half hearted description on a piece of paper?  Was she charismatically talking to a group of people, where they are hanging on her every word? Did anyone in that group match the description? Was she making her way around the crowd casually talking to others? Or is the one looking lost, a fish out of water, not really knowing who to talk to or what to talk about, is she the one wondering aimlessly through the crowd so she isn’t talked to. The description he had been given of her was vague it told him she was of average height, tanned skin, dark brown hair: usually tied up in a plait, dark eyes, glasses and dresses in mainly dark loose fitting clothing. Thinking it would be easy to find her he thinks again, this is a party where everyone is looking their finest, in colourful clothing, made up to look their best. His boss said she would be here, it was her friends wedding reception and she came here even though she only knew the bride. There were plenty of people there who had long dark hair and were around about her height, he looked at the description one more time before screwing up the piece of paper and throwing it in a nearby bin. It was no use to him anymore. Perhaps she wasn’t at the party, she might have decided not to go because she would have felt out of place because she would have only known the bride. There was no other way to find her, no one had her personal contact details, her work phone was where it always was when she went to these social gatherings, at home. She wasn’t at home either, he had checked there first, and her car was parked outside, she must’ve been here. He wondered back outside, wondering what kind of lie he could come up with so that he wouldn’t be interrogated about his presence. She was never really happy when work invaded her social life, they were two completely different worlds. As he stepped out on to the patio he spotted someone exiting the rear of the house, he assumes she is the bride, she is in an elegant red dress which falls to just above the floor where he spots her overly high black heels, he can also guess she is the bride as she is wearing a new looking ring on her fourth finger on her left hand, and she is also wearing a royal blue sash that said “The new Mrs Cooper” in silver script. She grins at him and asks,
“Who are you?”  The new Mrs Cooper asked.
He hesitates. “Oh uh, I am a colleague of Poppy‘s her boss said she needed to come in to work ASAP”
“Oh, why didn’t her boss just ring her and tell her this” She questioned
“Her boss knows that she doesn‘t like to take her work phone out with her to social occasions and she refuses to give him her personal number.” He smiles nervously raising one hand to rub the back of his neck.
“I’ll see if I can find her.” She walked past him to the marquee. He waited wondering what to say to her when she appeared from that big white tent filled with Christmas decorations, food and people.  As he looked toward the marquee again a women walked out with a slight look of confusion written over her face, the description fit, the differences were instead of her hair being tied back, it was down and it was straight, she was wearing predominately dark clothing but her shirt was red and the waist coat she had on top of it has a emerald green backing, her high heeled shoes matched her shirt, so it was obvious she had some sense of style. The way she let her hair hang denoted she was proud of the sheer length of it as it reached her hips when it was that straight but as it was left in this plain style it meant she might have not been sure of what else to do with it considering she was always seen with her hair in the same style. She kept her eyes to the floor as she approached him, when she joined him on the patio she finally looked up at him with a questioning look in her eyes. He was considerably taller that her even with her in those heels.
“Who are you?” She asks quietly, not taking her eyes off the tall man in front of her.
“I am Christopher, I have been sent here by Dr Abrahms to come and get you. You‘re needed at work”  She sighed, looking at the ground then the fence behind Christopher.
“What happened to the other lackeys he would send? I told him that I wouldn’t work tonight.” She was getting a little irate.
“He wants you, he said this was one you had to handle” He said apologetically.
“Fine, let me say goodbye to Kathy and I will grab my jacket and I will go” She finally looked back up at the tall man and scowled.  She hated it when her worlds collided but it had to be important if he wanted her.
He watched as she disappeared back in to the marquee, a minute later he watched her stride across the little patio in the to house, and pick her jacket up from a chair in the kitchen. She got in her car and drove off in the direction of the lab.

Inside she was met by Dr Abrahms, he apologised about the inconvenience, and that he wishes he could go to someone else about this but she was the only one that would be best for it. Before they reached her office he handed her a case file. It was marked as a missing persons file. She looked at the name it read “John Doe” this was the typical name for someone who didn’t have an identity. Upon opening the case file a familiar face presented itself to her. The picture was of a young man in his 20’s, he had mid length brown hair that had started to cover his ears and grown down the back of his long neck. His eyes were as dark as his hair, dark shadows sat under his eyes, and his jaw was covered in stubble. He looked older than he had looked the last time she had seen but it was definitely him. She was so sure even if she hadn’t seen him in a year. But why was he here and why was he a missing person with no name. Why hadn’t she heard of this before now?  She turned to the Dr, eyes wide.
“Why is he a John Doe? And how did he end up here?”
“ He was reported missing over a month ago in his city, he was found wondering the streets of ours. He doesn’t seem to remember who he is. One of the other doctors though she had recognised him from a photo you had shown to her so I sent him to you.”  She looked in through the window to her office and sat upon the sofa facing away from her was a tall looking man in ragged clothing and looking dishevelled. She entered cautiously, he snapped out of his daze to stare at her, the look of shock that filled his eyes  reminded her of a deer caught in the headlights of a car. Even looking as unkempt as he was she knew it was him.  But was he really the real him anymore.  She hadn’t seen him for a year, they had both been busy with their working lives that they didn’t have time to be friends anymore. Even as the year had passed she still remembered everything about him.  The way he would smile when they joked around, how his whole face would light up as he laughed.  The way she would laugh when he would act serious or try and look angry. In an instant she remember why she valued him as such a close friend in the first place, and now he was just a blank slate sat on her sofa.
“Hi, my name is Poppy Hogan. I’m a psychologist, I understand you don’t seem to know who you are or how you ended up here.”  She sat opposite him wondering what had happened to him.
“They keep calling my John Doe. Is that my name?” He barely whispered. She felt a pang of sadness start to thrum in her ribcage, all she wanted was to hug him and console him as she had done before. But that would be unprofessional, she would have to take this in small steps, even though someone can loose their memory it is never really gone forever.
“No, John Doe is a name we use here for people who have no identity. I am here to help you regain your identity.”  She gave him a reassuring smile. “What was the last thing you remember” She waited patiently, she knew this was one of the hardest questions to answer when you don’t know anything about yourself.
“I….I don’t remember anything before being found in the city. Someone said that someone here knew who I was”  He still spoke quietly only looking at her for the briefest of moments before returning his attention to his hands or his shoes.
“That is correct. That person would be me. But I am going to work with you one step at a time to get you back to a more stable state of memory. Would you like something to drink?” He just nodded. This time he held her gaze for more than a second.
“Sometimes it helps with the process if someone who has lost their memory has some thing that is familiar to them, I know that you used to drink tea so would you like some?”
“Please” She went to her office phone and asked for two cups of tea. As they waited she flipped through the case file, he had been reported missing when his girlfriend went to his house and it looked like it hadn’t been lived in for a few days. There were no notes telling anyone where he was going, all of this things were still at the house, he didn’t even take his wallet, keys or phone with him. He always had  them with him no matter where he went. There had been no sign of struggle in the house so it he wasn’t taken. She also had to figure out how he had managed to forget who he was and his entire life. There were many variables to memory loss, injury, medical conditions, MDD (Major Depression Disorder) or other mental illness.
“Where were you before you came here” His question interrupted her train of thought, which came to a skidding halt. She looked down at herself, seeing she was still in her black skinny jeans, red heels, red shirt and grey waistcoat and jacket.
“I was at a friends wedding party.” She pulled her hair over one shoulder and started to play with it.
“How long have I known you?” She hesitated, it wasn’t really protocol to introduce friends this early on, she usually started with family and spouses.  But she didn’t really know how to contact them.
“You’ve known me for nearly four years now.”
“Oh. Were we close?” He looked at her face for longer that time. She knew he was gaining confidence.
“I guess you could say so. Perhaps we should really start at the beginning and with the basics ok.”
“Ok.”
“Do you have any idea what your name is?” He didn’t answer. She wrote the initials “O.K.D” on a piece of paper.