Threads of the Tapestry
folder
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
1,641
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
1,641
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Threads of the Tapestry
Threads of the Tapestry
Disclaimer: Contains NC-17 content in later chapters; violence and language sooner as well. Don't like, don't read. It's pretty no-brainer. Any likeness to any characters, situations, or names is completely unintentional. I also make no money off this; any/all brand names used are non-profit use. Don't sue me.
Tags: M/F, Violence, Dom.
Introduction
As long as you're here, I might as well tell you about myself. You'll be here for a while anyways; so will I. These nutballs here seem to think I'm some sort of messed up schizo threat to society. I hate what this place has become; it seems that you're caged for things you believe, drugged for it, chained for it, hidden away from society, when you think differently than others. I admit I might be a little soceopathic; maybe a hint Narcisisstic. But most of us humans can be at the best of times. I just don't give a shit about your problems, and I don't want to hear it. I guess that makes me insane; that's why you have me here in this room, right? Seclude the psycho? Whatever. It'll be over eventually. I won't need a one-to-one for very long. Because I have to, I'll tell you everything. When I'm done telling you the whole story, you'll probably think I'm crazy like they do, too. But know what? I don't give a fuck. No one but the lone woman no one believes even existed knew who I was. I tried telling them her birth certificate was shredded by my father. I'll get to that, though. Mom was a Jew; born in Israel to two white refugees who sought solace from the harsh US economy. Funny place to go during the depression if you ask me, but maybe the alure was in the belief of that Jesus-fellow she insisted in. My father was born into a rich family in Palestine. I know what you're thinking; he met her on a business trip his father took, and brought him with in interest to teach him his trade. Israel has a big trade business. Or, at least, it used to. I've never been there, so I don't know. Dad was 15 at the time, and mom was 14. In any day and age, it's never a good mix to have an Palestinian family near Jews; they mix like oil and water. But my dad never understood that, and the moment he saw her, he had to have her. Now, it might be important to point out that my father's parents were raised in Iran, and passed on the womanizing beleifs. So, when my dad told my grandfather that he wanted to marry the Jewish girl, he was outraged. His little boy wanted to marry the daughter of an underpriviledged JEWISH family. That never goes so well with East Indian Faith. My father didn't care, and married her anyway. Of course, both were disowned by their parents, and thus, they fled to where I was born and raised - Russia. I inherited my father's black hair, and my mother's white skin and blue eyes. I could pass for an American if I didn't have this thick accent. It's starting to fade a bit, but that will take years. I also picked up my mother's values, and my father's heart. That's a bad mix. I'm not a womanizer, if that's what you think. You'll see exactly what I mean. Now, if you'll sit down, I'll keep going. I don't like craning my neck to see you. Good. So, I was born, and my father wanted to call me Shinhad Valdeep, after my great grandfather; but mother wouldn't have it. It cost her a few bruises, but she named me after that biblical chick; Meshack. Gave me her maiden name too; that earned her a broken arm. So, my full name is Meshack Harvey. Call me that, and die. Seriously. I'm Mesha. Only my mother called me Meshack. You can tell why I get odd looks now; a Russian-born Indian non-practicing Israelie Jew that doesn't give a shit about everyone else. It's even gotten to the point where people cross the street just to avoid walking past me at night. I don't even strike women; it's completely based on assumption. Anyway, I was ten when my father got a promotion, and because of that, he decided Russia was no place for me. I don't know what his problem was; Russia was my land, my home. I never argued with him, I learned not to at a young age. If I did, I'd be sporting a nice black spot somewhere. So off we went, and moved here. My mother was excited; she'd never seen America. My dad was just after business and money, among whatever other reasons he seemed to have. I think he just didn't want me to marry some Jew like he did or something. Of course, shit hit the fan with customs, and my dad shredded our birth certificates. He paid some black market asshole to give us fake american ones so we could stay here. According to the government, I'm James Steel, and mom....I don't even want to tell you her name. It's just not something I want to speak now that she's dead. My dad became Craig Steel, and bought a Tool Manufacturing Plant when I was 11, for five hundred grand - it was really old. That never lasted long, thanks to rats and Health Regulation. He sold it to a guy who turned it into a bread factory, and he sold it for just under 16 million. We'd been living off the interest until, well, now. I don't know what I'll do after I'm out. Maybe I'll find that bastard, and show him how deeply he hurt me. That isn't a threat by the way; it's a promise. I guess I'd better just slow down and start it when we moved. You already know about the factory shit, so I'll leave that out. Want some coffee or something? This'll take a while. Get your silly little note book; make sure to get everything that makes me sound nuts. Yeah, I know that's your job. You guys don't ever write anything proactive. Just evidence of insanity. I bet you'd find something wrong in the heads of everyone else on this planet if you sat and took notes on their life story. So you ready? Fine. Here goes.
------------------
AN: I'm going to wait a little while before moving to chapter one. I'd like to see what reviews I get back before I keep going. This is my first internet-posted original, revamped from when I wrote it offline a few years ago. Please feel free to critique me, I know how to take it. Just don't flame me. Btw, the whole novel won't be like this. It'll be Third Person past tense.
Disclaimer: Contains NC-17 content in later chapters; violence and language sooner as well. Don't like, don't read. It's pretty no-brainer. Any likeness to any characters, situations, or names is completely unintentional. I also make no money off this; any/all brand names used are non-profit use. Don't sue me.
Tags: M/F, Violence, Dom.
Introduction
As long as you're here, I might as well tell you about myself. You'll be here for a while anyways; so will I. These nutballs here seem to think I'm some sort of messed up schizo threat to society. I hate what this place has become; it seems that you're caged for things you believe, drugged for it, chained for it, hidden away from society, when you think differently than others. I admit I might be a little soceopathic; maybe a hint Narcisisstic. But most of us humans can be at the best of times. I just don't give a shit about your problems, and I don't want to hear it. I guess that makes me insane; that's why you have me here in this room, right? Seclude the psycho? Whatever. It'll be over eventually. I won't need a one-to-one for very long. Because I have to, I'll tell you everything. When I'm done telling you the whole story, you'll probably think I'm crazy like they do, too. But know what? I don't give a fuck. No one but the lone woman no one believes even existed knew who I was. I tried telling them her birth certificate was shredded by my father. I'll get to that, though. Mom was a Jew; born in Israel to two white refugees who sought solace from the harsh US economy. Funny place to go during the depression if you ask me, but maybe the alure was in the belief of that Jesus-fellow she insisted in. My father was born into a rich family in Palestine. I know what you're thinking; he met her on a business trip his father took, and brought him with in interest to teach him his trade. Israel has a big trade business. Or, at least, it used to. I've never been there, so I don't know. Dad was 15 at the time, and mom was 14. In any day and age, it's never a good mix to have an Palestinian family near Jews; they mix like oil and water. But my dad never understood that, and the moment he saw her, he had to have her. Now, it might be important to point out that my father's parents were raised in Iran, and passed on the womanizing beleifs. So, when my dad told my grandfather that he wanted to marry the Jewish girl, he was outraged. His little boy wanted to marry the daughter of an underpriviledged JEWISH family. That never goes so well with East Indian Faith. My father didn't care, and married her anyway. Of course, both were disowned by their parents, and thus, they fled to where I was born and raised - Russia. I inherited my father's black hair, and my mother's white skin and blue eyes. I could pass for an American if I didn't have this thick accent. It's starting to fade a bit, but that will take years. I also picked up my mother's values, and my father's heart. That's a bad mix. I'm not a womanizer, if that's what you think. You'll see exactly what I mean. Now, if you'll sit down, I'll keep going. I don't like craning my neck to see you. Good. So, I was born, and my father wanted to call me Shinhad Valdeep, after my great grandfather; but mother wouldn't have it. It cost her a few bruises, but she named me after that biblical chick; Meshack. Gave me her maiden name too; that earned her a broken arm. So, my full name is Meshack Harvey. Call me that, and die. Seriously. I'm Mesha. Only my mother called me Meshack. You can tell why I get odd looks now; a Russian-born Indian non-practicing Israelie Jew that doesn't give a shit about everyone else. It's even gotten to the point where people cross the street just to avoid walking past me at night. I don't even strike women; it's completely based on assumption. Anyway, I was ten when my father got a promotion, and because of that, he decided Russia was no place for me. I don't know what his problem was; Russia was my land, my home. I never argued with him, I learned not to at a young age. If I did, I'd be sporting a nice black spot somewhere. So off we went, and moved here. My mother was excited; she'd never seen America. My dad was just after business and money, among whatever other reasons he seemed to have. I think he just didn't want me to marry some Jew like he did or something. Of course, shit hit the fan with customs, and my dad shredded our birth certificates. He paid some black market asshole to give us fake american ones so we could stay here. According to the government, I'm James Steel, and mom....I don't even want to tell you her name. It's just not something I want to speak now that she's dead. My dad became Craig Steel, and bought a Tool Manufacturing Plant when I was 11, for five hundred grand - it was really old. That never lasted long, thanks to rats and Health Regulation. He sold it to a guy who turned it into a bread factory, and he sold it for just under 16 million. We'd been living off the interest until, well, now. I don't know what I'll do after I'm out. Maybe I'll find that bastard, and show him how deeply he hurt me. That isn't a threat by the way; it's a promise. I guess I'd better just slow down and start it when we moved. You already know about the factory shit, so I'll leave that out. Want some coffee or something? This'll take a while. Get your silly little note book; make sure to get everything that makes me sound nuts. Yeah, I know that's your job. You guys don't ever write anything proactive. Just evidence of insanity. I bet you'd find something wrong in the heads of everyone else on this planet if you sat and took notes on their life story. So you ready? Fine. Here goes.
------------------
AN: I'm going to wait a little while before moving to chapter one. I'd like to see what reviews I get back before I keep going. This is my first internet-posted original, revamped from when I wrote it offline a few years ago. Please feel free to critique me, I know how to take it. Just don't flame me. Btw, the whole novel won't be like this. It'll be Third Person past tense.