Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Brisa 02

Logan takes two stairs at a time. It is another sunny morning and he is late for work. Tayla over slept this morning. That always throws him off schedule. It isn’t her fault, he shouldn’t rely on her but it’s become habit for the past 10 years together. He inhales and grins. Coffee. The fragrance is welcoming even on a hot morning. What was the joke? Coffee isn’t a drug, it’s a vitamin. Logan chuckles as he rounds the corner in to the kitchen.

“Brodie?” Logan stands in the kitchen doorway, his head cocked to the side with a questioning look. He crosses the kitchen and takes the mug from the boy’s hands. He sighs softly noting how the boy’s hands tremble. “Another nightmare.”

Brodie looks up with haunted exhausted eyes and nods slowly. “Something’s wrong with Brisa.”

Logan picks up his son and carries him back to his room. “What’s wrong?”

Brodie gratefully lays his head on his father’s shoulder closing his eyes for the first time since the nightmare last night. “She is.”

Logan rubs the boy’s back. “What is she?”

“She’s wrong.”

Logan grins. “Let’s try a new question. What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know. She’s just… not right.” He yawns while continuing. “Dad, she has a tail.”

Brodie has a way of spinning tales, creating worlds and unfortunately some of these stories become part of his reality. Logan has no idea if this recent claim is part of reality or one of Brodie’s reality. “A tail… so Brisa is a dog.”

Logan sets Brodie on his bed. “Un-uh…”

“A… cat.” He waits, watching Brodie crawl gratefully under the sheet and lays his blond head on the pillow.

“No.” Brodie rubs his eyes and yawns.

“Brodie, help me out here. Who is Brisa?” Logan kisses his forehead and turns to leave. The boy is almost asleep.

His voice is a soft sighing whisper as Logan grips the doorknob. “Brisa is my baby sister.”

Logan stops at the doorway to look at his sleeping son. “Sister?”

Brodie is fast asleep and doesn’t respond. Logan watches him silently for a moment longer. He glances down the hall towards his own bedroom. Tayla is pregnant. They decided to wait until the birth to find out the baby’s gender. How can Brodie know? Or is this part of his over active imagination? Logan rubs his chin and sighs. He closes the door before heading back to the kitchen for his coffee.

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Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Feb: Brisa

Author's Note: My posts for this and any story are not broken up in to chapters. They are broken down to what i have written for that day.



Logan Conley is a big burly man. The mental image one would conjure up when thinking of gladiators would come close to his physical appearance. The mental image of Adonis might be closer. At full height, Logan stands well over six feet, wide chest, thick arms, curly blond hair and blue eyes. His easy grin defies his first impression putting his friends at ease and his enemies on edge.

Logan rolls over. His arm drapes over his wife’s midsection. Instinctively she backs in to his embrace. His hand moves across her smooth bare skin to lovingly caress her and their unborn child. The ceiling fan moves lazily above them cooling their skin as much as it can in the considerable heat of summer. The bedroom window is open, the screen keeping what insects it can out, the mesh surrounding their bed protecting them further.

Tayla, wife to Logan, is at odds with him in the appearance department. She is fair skinned to his dark, dark haired to his light and petite to his tall. The only similarity between the couple is their eyes, both have blue eyes yet there the similarity ends, his are dark to her pale.

Tayla’s hand rests lightly on his thigh. Years together have honed their patterns. The couple moves in harmony even in their sleep. Lying on their left side, snuggling closely, she shifts her right leg raising her knee at an angle. Logan follows suit. The night is still, save for the locust out side. Their constant humming and chattering blends with the whooshing and humming of the ceiling fan as a symphony to lull them to slumber.

The door handle moves slowly, the door is opened equally as slow before a small blond head full of curls pops in and stares at the couple. Tayla gasps softly in her sleep followed by a soft moan.

“Mommy?” Brodie calls out in a strained whisper. His efforts are rewarded with silence. He sighs heavily. Unthwarted the youth enters their room stealthily and tries again. “Mommy?”

Brodie is half of a pair. He, like his twin Brayden, is a lovely mix of the parents. Both boys blessed with curly mops, both blond with pale blue eyes of their mother. Brodie is the shorter of the two by a few inches and the youngest by fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes that Brayden will never allow him to forget about. Brodie also has a gift, or a curse depending on who you ask. He has an overly active imagination. This gift, this blessing is also his undoing. While he can entertain himself and his brother for hours with tales of far off worlds, it can also keep him up nights with vivid dreams and nightmares.

“Hmmm…” Tayla stirs.

Brodie isn’t fooled. She is still fast asleep while instinctively responding. The netting around their bed stirs. Brodie looks at the mirror to see if his mother is truly awake stopping dead in his tracks. His mouth falls open soundlessly. He wants to scream. He wants to yell out a warning but he isn’t quite certain of what it is he is seeing. He creeps forward slowly so it won’t be frightened off.

He reaches his mother’s side of the bed and pulls back the netting quickly. He cocks his head to the side in confusion. Lying comfortably are his parents. Nothing amiss, no odd tail wrapped around his mother’s thigh…. “Mommy?”

Tayla’s eyes flutter. “Hmm… Brod?”

“I had a nightmare.” Brodie stares at her bare thigh and shudders. His imagination can be cruel to him.

“Same one?” His mother strains to sit up.

“Yes.” Brodie shakes his head. “Don’t, Mommy. Just… I’m okay. I’ll go back to bed.”

Tayla sighs in relief and lies back down. “Give mommy a kiss?”

Brodie grins. For a six year old boy, he is wise beyond his age. “I’ll tuck ya in.” Brodie tugs gently on the thin sheet and pulls it up to his mother’s chin before gently kissing her forehead. “Night, Mommy.”

Tayla smiles sleepily at her son. “Mommy loves her baby boy.”

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