ON WRITING

“It’s very easy to quit during the first ten years of writing. Nobody cares whether you write or not, and it’s very hard to write when nobody cares one way or the other. You can’t get fired if you don’t write, and most of the time you don’t get rewarded if you do. But don’t quit.” Andre Dubus

Monday, 1 February 2016

Lost and Found blogfest -- my #flashfiction -- Lost in #Venice

Well didn't that come around quickly? Romantic February is here and here I am participating in the Lost and Found blogfest.


A special blogging event the result of a collaboration between Arlee Bird and Guilie Castillo-Oriard.   Joining these two romantics are Elizabeth Seckman,  Yolanda Renee,  Denise Covey  and Alex J Cavanaugh

This challenge asks you to tell your fictional/non-fictional story about love -- lost or found -- in the first special Valentine's blogfest for the month of February.  

Don't be left out!   If you have something that fits, sign up by adding your link to the list in my sidebar!

And here is my 'romantic' story...

Lost in Venice



The cold of the floating city melted away in the heated rooms as Anouk danced with a succession of gloriously-attired masked men who pressed her close to their bodies, their flattery blowing hot on her neck. With casual abandon they passed her onto the next caped stranger with a flourish and a kiss to her gloved hand. Inhibitions washed away by the excellent wine, she embraced the fantasy.

Leaving the warm apartment, she ran down slippery dimly-lit streets into an unknown Venice. The paths narrowed until she skated and slithered at the end of the conga line, terrified of being lost, alone in Venice.

Without warning, out of the fog came a man, a man who clasped her hand and drew it to his chest. The line wended away as she stilled, uncertain, alone in the stranger’s grip. He tugged her along in his wake, pausing to turn and watch her through slitted eyes.

She was lost in Venice, and in black eyes that glinted fire behind a lacquered mask of ebony.

He hesitated beneath a lamp that bathed them in golden light. ‘I’m Count de Rozario.’ He bowed, his first words to her as rich and smooth as a noble red wine.
‘Truly?’
‘All men are Counts at Carnevale.’
She curtsied, deliberately displaying her cleavage. ‘My count.’
‘My servant,’ he said, touching her bare shoulder with his fingers as if bestowing an honour.
He covered her flimsy cape with his thick black velvet cloak, then kissed her blonde curls which were in disarray from the snow and mist. Taking her hand, he drew her close to his side. 
‘Come. We have a little time.’
They ran through passages and beneath arches until they came upon a magnificent golden doorway. He brushed snow off their cloaks and shoes before he led her up a flight of stairs to a luxurious apartment. With urgent strides he hurried her through a warm sitting room, log fire blazing, comfortable couches empty, an aura of expectation in the atmosphere. Mesmerised by the warmth of the flames, she took a step towards them.
He snatched her at the waist and dragged her into a huge bedroom dazzled by silver moonlight, its rich furnishings the colour of the Burgundy she’d drunk throughout the night. The ornate carved bed beckoned, its lush brocade edged with silken fringes inflamed her senses.
He ripped off her cape, then her dress rustled to the floor and pooled at her feet. He dealt swiftly with her undergarments, but left her mask intact. Too late to turn back now even if she wanted to. She was an offering to Carnevale and the Count.
Pushing her backwards onto the bed, he covered her nakedness with his. Two warm bodies driven by animal lust.
As they surrendered themselves to the madness of the night, the mouth that plundered hers tasted like wine, enhanced by sea and smoke.
Their lovemaking reached its crescendo like a finely-tuned orchestra making exhilarating music. Then he broke away with a cry. All she heard was her own whimpering cries as her body begged for more.
Footsteps. On the stairs. Slipping and sliding on the varnished wood. The occasional curse, ‘Merda. Merda.
The count was on his feet, reaching out his hand. ‘My blonde beauty. My Contessa approaches. Presto! Presto!
He snatched her clothes from the carpet and thrust them into her arms and pushed her naked onto the balcony. Shivering with cold and shock, she huddled, horrified. 
‘Ah, Contessa, come.’ His seductive voice slid out of the bedroom and onto the balcony. ‘I’ve been waiting. How we did lose each other in the frenzy of the chase.’
‘Nevertheless, Count, I see you are ready for me.’
Self-satisfied whore. Was this a game they played on this one night of the year when there were no rules? Had the Contessa come from her own assignation in another man’s bed?
Anouk struggled down the dark outdoor stairs, slipping and sliding on the dusting of ice, gripping the over-elaborate balustrade. In the foyer, her frozen hands fumbled with intricate clasps and zips as she dressed with agonising slowness.
Wrenching the heavy carved door open, she stumbled down the steps, fog tendrils snatching at her ankles.
She stepped into the frozen wilderness, lost in Venice's black cape. 


I hope you enjoyed my romantic efforts. Please click on a name in my sidebar and continue to read entries for this blogfest.
And don't forget...you can now sign up for the WEP Valentine's blogfest! Entries posted from February 17 - 19th.


59 comments:

  1. A night of abandon, lust, and deception. Does not sound like fun this Carnevale. I feel bad for Anouk.

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  2. Hahaha, love your comment to Yolanda, Denise. Talk about a romantic effort. What a great job, my friend. Magnificent. Ah, yes, Anouk. Lost in Venice's black cape. Fantastic! You write well. :-)

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    1. Thanks Robyn. I enjoyed writing this. I enjoyed yours too although completely different!

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  3. Hahaha, love your comment to Yolanda, Denise. Talk about a romantic effort. What a great job, my friend. Magnificent. Ah, yes, Anouk. Lost in Venice's black cape. Fantastic! You write well. :-)

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  4. Aww, poor Anouk. I always enjoy your story telling, romantic, and otherwise.

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    1. Thanks Nila! Not as much as I enjoy your poems, probably!

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  5. Hi Denise,
    I enjoyed your story. Carnevale is taking place in most of Europe at this moment up until the first day of Lent. It is amazing how many children are conceived during this time. So, your story depicts a happening that takes place often here.
    Shalom,
    Patricia

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    1. Shalom,Pat.
      Yes, it's not exactly fiction is it? Scarily.

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  6. From the previous comment, I wonder how many of those children are passed off as the rightful heirs. Enjoyed your story, poor Anouk.

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  7. Yikes. I don't know if I'd call that romance, but certainly a memorable encounter. I just kept thinking about how much I appreciate having a steady, real relationship while reading this.

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    1. Which is probably why I put quote marks around 'romantic' Crystal! Yep. Experiences like that are best thought of as fictional!

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  8. Carnival, Venice, masks, and secrecy. All good ingredients for a Romance in February blog fest.

    Mary at Play off the Page

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  9. And that's why you don't do such things!

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  10. Not sure I'd want to attend that kind of party. A bit to wild for me! ;)

    Thank you for co-hosting!

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  11. This reminds me of one of Pat Conroy's books, Beach Music, though his character does not have to suffer such consequences! I love the masks.

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    1. Now Tamara, Beach Music is my favourite book. I'm trying to wrack my brains about the character you refer to! I hope I haven't plagarised!

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  12. Aha! We may need to rename the blog fest to Lust--lost and found. Whooeee. Great writing. You pulled me in to scenes painted with your talented storytelling brush. Thanks for co-hosting!!

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    1. Thank you J Q Rose! High praise indeed!

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  13. Whoa, this tale makes me wanna slap somebody AND have a glass of wine. Love the rich, sensory details, madame:)

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    1. Thanks back at you Madame! Hand me that glass!

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  14. Great job, Denise. I love how you used temperature variations and color to create the perfect atmosphere. Hmmm, naked except for a mask, huh? Intriguing image.

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  15. That was certainly steamy. The heat was evident right up until the end when everything turned as cold as ice. Well done.

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    1. I like the way you describe it farawayeyes...hot then cold. Brr...

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  16. I concur with Samantha's post above. Slap someone and drink wine. It's a great combination.

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  17. I loved the atmosphere you created in this piece. Very steamy too!

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    1. You should read the full story then Annalisa. Steamy as...

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  18. Bring on the air conditioning, Denise! Love the intriguing mask and, of course, the setting. Perfect place for seduction and intrigue.

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    1. Ah Clem. Venice is a setting like no other!

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  19. Ooh sexy! And unscrupulous. Talk about bait and switch ;)

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  20. Such great writing, I felt like I was there. Wonderful job!

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    1. If you felt like you were there Megan, I did my job!

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  21. Yikes! That was a steamy encounter. So far I haven't encountered two stories that were remotely alike. This is a great blog hop. Thank you for helping to make it such a success!

    Arlee Bird
    A to Z Challenge Co-host
    Tossing It Out

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    1. A lot of variation in the hop, Arlee.

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  22. Beautifully written! You have a wonderful way with words. I loved your story and it left me wanting more. I'm already invested in the character. I want to know how this encounter leaves her, how she reacts to it in the coming days...

    Fabulous imagery too!
    Nice job!!!

    Michele at Angels Bark

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    1. Thank you Michele. Lovely of you to say.

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  23. Hi Denise
    Very sexy. Fabulous writing as always.
    Nancy

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  24. Beautiful settings and descriptions as always, Denise. I totally felt like the Voyeur!

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    1. Hmm, yes, voyeur...maybe a bit too hot for the 'fest!

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  25. Lost, then found, and lost again. Ah Carnivale, such dangerous intrigue :) Well done Denise :)

    Thanks for co-hosting this bloghop.

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    1. Indeed it is Donna! Dangerous lives behind those masks!

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  26. This is too hot! I enjoy your writing style.

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  27. Clever way of extending a hot encounter complete with lusts. Phew! Wonderful story Denise!

    Hank

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  28. Ooh-la-la!
    Very atmospheric!
    To be lost in Venice and surrender to the madness of the night with a Carnivale Count like de Rozario? Sizzling stuff, Denise!
    But a dangerous liaison...
    I loved it!

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  29. That was an excellent story. Full of passion.

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  30. Poor Anouk.

    You write beautiful descriptions.

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  31. She should have kicked him where it counts.

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  32. I like the imagery here, but it kind of gives me the whillies that she was just drunk a-ok with random sex. And he took advantage of it. Revenge story next?

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  33. I got quite carried away by the passion and sense of not knowing what will happen next in that story. Skilfully crafted and a pleasure to read.

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  34. If you need your ex-girlfriend or ex-boyfriend to come crawling back to you on their knees (even if they're dating somebody else now) you must watch this video
    right away...

    (VIDEO) Why your ex will NEVER get back...

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