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‘Dark Star crashes, pouring its light into ashes… Mirror shatters in formless reflections of matter… Shall we go, you and I while we can… Through the transitive nightfall of diamonds…. ‘ : : Eventide Love is my story of emotional abuse as a psychological thriller. : The protagonist relies on mental resources rather than physical strength to overcome his victim. The conflict is played out through mind games, deception, and manipulation, with sustained attempts to demolish the victim’s mental equilibrium. #eventide_love @ptsouros : : #psychologicalabuse #psychologicalthriller #emotionalabuse #blogto #book #mystory #creativewriting #safeireland #amwriting #gaslightingawareness #hitchcock #davidlynch
“At that very first kiss I felt something melt inside me that hurt in an ethereal way. All my longings, all my dreams and sweet anguish, all the secrets that slept deep within my soul came awake. I felt the narcotic sensuality of Maryvn Gaye’s lyrics playing inside my heart in perfect harmony with life.” #eventide_love #emotionalabuse as a #psychologicalthriller : : #amwriting #mystory #psychologicalabuse #creativewriting #hitchcock #davidlynch #relationshipsgoals #badlove #marvyngaye #myquote #publishing #metoo #metoomovement #womenempowerment #ireland🍀
Emotional Abuse as a Psychological Thriller. Link in Bio: : There were many shades in the danger of adventures and gales, most of which were exhilarating and golden. It is only now and then that there appears on the face of facts a sinister violence of intention- that indefinable something which forces it upon the mind and the heart. It is this complication of incidents, or these elemental furies coming at me with a purpose of malice, with a strength beyond control, with an unbridled cruelty. And this means it tears out my hope and passion. MY pain of fatigue and longing for rest targets destruction, annihilates all I can see, known, loved, enjoyed, or hated; all that is priceless and necessary- the sunshine, the memories, the future. My precious world as I knew it sweeps utterly away from my sight, further and further as each day goes by, it’s simply an appalling act of losing my life.” #eventide_love : :: #emotionalabuse as a #psychologicalthriller #artwork🎨 @darren_crowley : : #amwriting #mystory #psychologicalthriller #hitchcock #publishing #psychological #womensaid #lovindublin #blogtobook #lifeblogger #davidlynch #reesewitherspoonbookclub #womenempowerment #emotionalrollercoaster
“As my life unraveled from my relationship with Paul, I wanted people to see the abuse, to believe it, to have faith in me. And more than that, I wanted them to know me. Not the stuff they thought they knew about me. No, the real me. I wanted them to get past the rumors, to see beyond the exposer of the relationship. I needed them to understand the devastation, to cushion the fall without preconception. What I didn't know at that stage is that when Paul messed with my life, he was not messing with one part of my life, he was messing with my entire life. Every thread of my life.” #eventide_love : Emotional Abuse as a Psychological Thriller. #artwork🎨 Flora Borsi : : : #emotionalabuse #psychologicalthriller #mystory #creativewriting #writinginspiration #davidlynch #hitchcock #publishing #bookpublishing #psychological #psychologicalabuse #lovindublin #womensaid #womenempowerment
Eventide Love this is my story. In a speech at Wheaton College, Massachusetts, Carl Sagan spoke of how we humans share 99.6% of our active genes with chimpanzees. He described male chimps as aggressive and female chimps as non-aggressive. When under stress or threatened, male chimps become angry, pick up stones and hold them in their palms to hurl at the target. Female chimps, he tells us, walks up to the angry males, pry open their fingers, removes the stones, and drop them on the ground. I tried to take the stones from his hands; I tried talking, texting, writing, believing, settling, begging, tears and anger. I always tried to be the peacemaker, to give him what he wanted while attempting to maintain some dignity. That was unacceptable to him; he wanted to control the terms completely. His terms harmed me. It carried on. Every time I tried to kill the flame, he would always reignite it. My instinct for survival made me realize that unless he was crushed completely the flame would never go out. #eventide_love ; : : #psychologicalthriller #psychological #thriller #thrillers #amwriting #mystory #myblog #emotionalabuse #hitchcock #davidlynch #blogtobook #writingblog
When words have lost their meaning @outlines_arturo : : : : #sothebys #sothebyshongkong #eventide_love #amwriting #mystory #emotionalabuse #livewithart #artandlife #psychologicalthriller #davidlynch #hitchcock #alfredhitchcock

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Short Story 3 – Eventide/3

Floating body Editon

Please note this post contains sexually explicit content.

Lying in his bed her bony arms blackened from the assaults of obsessive forcible grips. Her eyes are either open or shut. Either way, she sees little and sleeps less. A plush heavy silk bed throw covered her from the waist down. Her long dark hair falls on the pillow in an arc, framing her sallow face. She lay there in the darkness; her time was not everlasting as she had dreamed. The white canvas offered by Chris to perform an original composition of their love now black permeates the pain of the reality broken, just a shadow line of her life. The wind in the trees call out her name evoking her to listen a journey of the mind. The garden is a respite from the urban sprawl of Dublin City. She moves around the garden in unity with the aura of life, energy, rustling from the leaves and swaying bushes. Her days now an endless journey where her destination is unknown but always looked for. One thing she knows for sure is her frailty to be separated from her unmerciful ghost their shared passion, her shattered dream. She would continue to follow the painful path sucked into a great wave rolling them towards their destiny. Thrown around in the overpowering force of the cold, dark, choppy waters each struggling to breathe not to let the water fill their lungs with suffication.

The birds sing in sunset of the evening. A bird speaks to her; “Its war you must declare against him, I see, its war or your soul will be lost.”


AFTER such a scene, Chris for a short while is abashed and ashamed, but he soon regains his old bullying indifference. He lives in a haze of anger with his mum. Anger that she will one day abandon him as an only child. In a rage smashing plates to the kitchen floor, he demanded that his mother understand his vulnerability. His mother in her late eighties sat slightly hunched, elbows touching her knees cradling her face in her hands. His dad weak and frail closed his eyes and ears to the row, his only way to cope. He did not understand why his son carried such rage in him. It was now five in the morning. Chris woke from a disturbed sleep. He got straight out of bed, showered absorbing the hot water feeling it soak into every pore of his skin, diminished in his assurance after last nights behavior. He jumped out of bed, hurriedly dressed, unwrapping a sharp, clean shirt from its dry cleaning package, teaming it with a dark silk suit, and his signature brightly colored tie. He went downstairs to the kitchen putting on the kettle for a quick cup of tea. His mum usually had his breakfast ready for him, but he was so early this morning she was still sound asleep. Pouring the tea into his car cup, he left carefully and gently closed the door behind him. He put his foot down on the accelerator and speed away from his parents house to his home, his private place of sanctuary. Losing his temper last night was the fault of Aliki. She was too demanding; she was now destroying him. She was forcing him to clear her out of his life. The tears gather in his eyes as he stares ahead of him speeding along the wet road. It’s a damp day. He sees his mother in her dying bed, and she is shaking her head violently. She does not care that she is leaving him alone. Then suddenly shaking him out of his deep dark thoughts ‘BANG’ he crashed thought the toll bridge barricade. He kept going looking behind on his rearview mirror. His toll reader must not have worked. Other then the initial shock no harm was done. First chance he had he pulled into a grassy side path, shook his head; Aliki was fucking with his mind. At that moment, he was engulfed with a flood of emotions standing alone on a deserted highway with the odd roar of a passing car passing by.

“In two weeks, four weeks, in six months certainly, I will forgive myself, will not feel as if I have been complicit in her death. It will pass, I tell myself, this feeling will pass. All you have to do is breathe. All you have to do is not cry. It is simple. All you have to do is remove the taste of bitterness from your lips and set it down. Set it down. Set it down. Set it down.”


Image: Nan Goldin.

Image: Nan Goldin.

Alike blinked open her eyes as Chris turned on the light. All she could see was the canvas that formed her vision in the loneliness of the darkness. There were bold streaks of raven black, muddy brown, effervescent gold and morbid, abstract splashes of blinding white. Chris lay down beside her only removing his shoes staring at the ceiling. She turned her head to his check, kissed it gently.

“You know Chris, we are all puppets to someone, no exceptions, no difference. We are all played by a master from whom we struggle to break away,”

He turned towards her piercing gaze. In an agonizing voice that ripped from her throat, all her desperation, hurt and fear from the pit of her stomach she pleaded.

“Please Chris don’t let you master destroy you or me or us. I love you.”

He pulled her into him.

“Aliki I have to erase you from my existence, I have to, I don’t want to. Your craziness has forced me to this point.”

She looked at him defiantly

“You will have to find my vital organ first to extinguish my breath.”

He kissed her mouth hard, silencing her. He moved his hand to her vagina, rubbing her gently. A ripple of desire tore through her as he touched her. She ached for his touch and was turned on by him beyond any reason. He gently kissed and sucked her nipples, then nipped them with his teeth, first softly then hard, so hard it drove her to a fervor. He rubbed her clit harder and harder shoving a finger then another into her. He moved his fingers deep inside her. She responded to his control, his harshness, grinding against his hands, groaning with ecstasy. She looked into his glazed eyes; concentrated on hers with no expression. Suddenly, he stopped.
“Do you like that?”
“Yes, please don’t stop,” she groaned.
“Beg me,” he whispered into her ear, moving away from her. She whined and nervously sniggered,
“Chris, please, stop torturing me.”
“How much do you need me?” he asked her.
“Right now, desperately.”
He gave her a wicked smile. She held out her hands to him.
“Please, what are you doing? Come back to me.”
She was gyrating her hips, aroused, waves of desire bursting through her body.
“Please, please come back to me.”
She rasped recognizing her reaction to his demand.
“Spread your legs and touch yourself.”

He watched for a few minutes as she obeyed his order, rubbing her clitoris. He kneeled over her body, kissed her greedily and then put his lips to her ear.

“I can have your vital organ in my control any time I want.”

He chillingly retorted.

Her body shuddered as a spike of fear flashed through her body her breathe going faint.


Related posts:

Eventide 2 

Eventide 1

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