Posted in April CampNaNo 2015, Blogfest Entries, CampNaNoWriMo, Challenges and Contests, Just for Fun!, Life Writing, Novel Excerpts, Sexuality and Erotica, Stream of Consciousness Saturday, Writing in Freedom

“ A Piece of Peace”: A Kifo Island Chronicles Story for SoCS

Merrily down the Stream of Consciousness I go!

 This post is part of Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday meme an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt: piece/peace. I made use of both, several times, and they provided me a symbol and a theme for a very intense scene.

This is the final SoCS story from my April #CampNaNoWriMo project: Transitions, Volume #1 of my Kifo Island Chronicles series-in-progress. It’s unedited except for typos, with more repetition and less clarity than it will eventually have. This bit is from Scene 19, from the viewpoint of Terrance Acosta, a jealous husband whose destructive impulses didn’t turn out the way he’d hoped…


This scene has triggers for infidelity and self-harm, and a PG-13 rating for language, suggestiveness, and innuendo. Proceed with due caution.

You’re me, Barry – and she’s you. You’re no better than me. You’re garbage, too.”

Exuberance nearly carried him out the door of the woman-child’s shop. He manged to get off the parting shot, using all of his remaining breath, and the energy born of his ire, and Barry’s rejection. To see him sharing breakfast with the very lovely and so very young Corinne – the way he’d pulled out her chair, bowed over her hand, played the courtly gentleman lover with her –

Except he wasn’t playing. He was a courtly gentleman. Once, only weeks ago, he’d been Terrance’s gentleman, always there, making him better.

You OK, sugah?”

No. Take me home, get me wasted, and fuck me to death, lover. Do it for real, and I’ll leave you everything I’ve got left that isn’t his.”

Oh, Sugah….you don’t mean that.”

The hell I don’t.” He leaned on her; let her greater size and strength support him as she took him to the golf cart and got him settled.

If that’s what you want. First, though – I’ve got something for you -” there was a shrill but somehow chiming sound in the distance, coming nearer .“Oh, hell. Sugah, you want the medicos?”

Terrance shook his head. No. Exuberance sprang around the back of the cart and into the driver’s seat, and Terrance leaned back and let her take him wherever she wanted. He only wanted to be left to die in peace – okay, that wasn’t true, either. What he really wanted was to just go to pieces – to break into smaller and smaller shards and fragments – like the pieces of the bell he’d smashed, when he first knew what was building between Barry and Sweet Young Corinne. Like the pieces shattered on the floor, once they’d been forcefully evicted from the cart he’d grabbed, the same way he’d grabbed Barry, that morning the sparks had ignited. Only, today, he’d used his hooker’s strength to create chaos and destruction – but it hadn’t done any good.

Barry was still gone. Barry, who was better than him, who made him more than garbage – or let him believe that he was.

Terrance opened his eyes when the cart stopped. “Home sweet home, sugah. But before I take you inside -” she leaned over him, her cartoonish, swollen breasts nearly in his face. “Reach in, sugah- I got you a souvenir.”

A part of him didn’t want to – but he was garbage, after all – nothing but garbage. He let her guide his hand – his arms were heavy and tired, and he was even tireder of games – with her, or anyone else.

His fingers connected with something hard and smooth; he followed its curving shape, which seemed to fit the swell of flesh beneath, to a sharp edge that pressed into his skin, almost puncturing him. He pulled it out and stared –

It was a pottery shard. A piece of what he’d ruined, wanted to ruin – good now only for throwing away.

Exuberance got out, and crunched along the path, the sound echoing, sounding like colorful bits of dried and glazed clay underfoot – like something broken past any hope of repairing…

Terrance wanted peace, suddenly and desperately. Peace – from a piece of art. There was a certain serendipity in the thought. He stared at the shard of baked earth, then at the frail, thinning skin on his wrists…
Shards. This image was the inspiration for this scene, and others, in this novel. Photo by Shan Jeniah Burton, Creswell Coffee Company, Creswell, OR February 2015.

What will Terrance do with the pottery shard? How did he get it? Does he have any chance at all of winning Barry back?


I’ve almost finished the draft, so I’ll soon know the answers…as for you – you may have to wait a while!

Enjoy stream-of consciousness writing? Come play – there’s just a few simple rules. See you next week, for another live-streaming look into the lovely chaos in my mind! =)

Get more SoCS right here!


I am myself. I own my life, and live with three other people who own theirs. My intention is to do only those things that bring me joy, and to give myself wholly to those things I do. Writing has been my passion throughout my life, and this will become the home for my writing life...because it brings me great joy!

2 thoughts on ““ A Piece of Peace”: A Kifo Island Chronicles Story for SoCS

  1. Funny, but when I hear the word peace, as I did in my head with the SoCS prompt, I always think of Tori.
    “I believe in peace, Bitch,” and also “Give me love, peace and …” well, you know 😉
    Maybe Terrance will make a beautiful mosaic?
    Happy weekending 🙂

    1. I LOVE that waittress line – because of the irony, and the fact that I spent years as a waitress…

      Tori knows how to bring it, for sure! =)

      And, oddly, I’ve thought about a mosaic…something I’ve used once, in a Trek fanfic, but might use again, here…unless Terrance had other ideas for that shard he’s holding!

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