Blackness Takes Over & Blackness Awaits Copyright © 2013 Norma Jeanne Karlsson
Published by It’s Publishing
Blackness Takes Over Edited by BubbleCow
Blackness Awaits Edited by Progressive Edits
Cover Design and Layout by
Ellie Bockert Augsburger
Creative Digital Studios
CreativeDigitalStudios.com
Cover Image Copyright © George Mayer/Dollar Photo Club
Nude woman with silver make-up
Blackness Takes Over
ISBN e-book: 978-0-9911873-0-0
Blackness Awaits
ISBN e-book: 978-0-9911873-2-4
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Blackness Takes Over Copyright © 2013 Norma Jeanne Karlsson
Published by It’s Publishing
Edited by BubbleCow
Cover Design and Layout by
Ellie Bockert Augsburger
Creative Digital Studios
CreativeDigitalStudios.com
Cover Image Copyright © George Mayer/Dollar Photo Club
Nude woman with silver make-up
ISBN e-book: 978-0-9911873-0-0
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book is available in print from most online retailers.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
To those that continue to fight when all seems lost.
October 19, 2013
Uuuugggghhhhh. I’m hot…really fucking hot. Who turned the heat up? It’s only the middle of October I don’t think the heat this high is necessary. What is that? There’s something heavy smashing me across my chest. Ugh. Kavy.
“Kav,” I groan trying to push his arm off me. This thing must weigh fifty pounds. Nothing.
“Kavy,” I groan a little louder and start trying to roll off the bed. His arms just pull me in tight to his chest. He smells. Gross!
“Kavanagh get off!!” I throw my elbow into his ribs and push off with my feet.
“Kid, just five more minutes,” Kavy mumbles in my hair. I’m no further away from him than I started, but at least he’s somewhat responsive.
“Let me up Kavy. I have to pee and you reek!” I’m finally released by my rank captor and push up to sit on the side of my bed. Oh my head hurts. There’s no light coming in under the curtains. I look over at my clock beyond Kavy. 5:45 a.m. I let out a huge sigh. I’m not a morning person. Even more so on a perfectly good Saturday morning before the birds are up. He’s already back in a deep sleep. I stretch and get up to at least go pee before I seek my revenge.
After being freed from Kavy, I realize it is actually cold in our house. I’m only wearing a tank and boy shorts, but it’s cold regardless of my lack of sleeping attire. I get onto the tile floor of the bathroom and realize I should have put on some slippers.
“Shit,” I say under my breath, hopping from one foot to the next, trying to free a foot from the cold at a time. I don’t bother shutting the door or turning on the light. I’m in my ensuite and Kavy is dead to the world, I can pee in peaceful darkness. I can also sit on the toilet and plot my revenge against Kavy for interrupting my sleep. My feet are so cold, at this point they are almost numb and that’s when my sleep deprived brain hops into plotting mode. I get off the toilet and go to the sink to wash my hands in cold water, keeping my mostly frozen feet flat on the floor. I have goose bumps from my ankles up to my scalp at this point and my body is starting to shiver.
I cross my bedroom and go around the bed to the side that Kavy is occupying. Very gently I glide under the duvet facing his gorgeously defined back. Not that I can see it, because it’s pitch black in here. Because it’s 5:49 in the morning! I snicker to myself and put my plan into action. Simultaneously, I plant my iceberg feet in the middle of his naked back and wrap my freezing hands around his chest and hold on for dear life.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!” Kavy screams (a little bit like a girl) and jumps up from the bed. I’m hanging by a death grip with my arms, but have to drop my legs and wrap them around his waist to maintain my grip. I’m hanging off his back like a baby monkey, laughing so hard that I’m glad I just peed…otherwise this laughing would surely cause me to pee my pants. There are tears forming in my eyes that I’m not sure are from the laughter or the smell coming off of Kavy’s body.
“WHAT THE FUCK?! KID!!” He’s now yelling in his man voice. My bedroom door flies open and Sully and Cally come racing in, allowing much needed illumination to stream in from the hallway light.
“Kavanagh?! What the fuck is going on?!” Sully is staring at us still mostly asleep and totally confused, yet pulsing with adrenaline.
“Kid, are you okay?” Cally questions, slightly out of breath after no doubt running to my room.
“Sorry boys I didn’t mean to wake you up. But you asshole,” I say pulling on Kavy’s ear, “had that comin’ for wakin’ me up at five forty-five on a Saturday morning after keeping me up until three thirty.”
Sully and Cally hunch their shoulders forward and relax now that they realize there’s nothing serious going on. Kavy reaches around with his arms and grabs me. I try to wiggle away but it’s a pointless effort. He spins me around so I’m horizontal to the floor, face down.
“Kavy don’t you dare!” I squeal trying my damnedest not to laugh. No sooner are the words out of my mouth than I am flying through the air onto my bed. And the three of them are on me. Tickling me and holding me down at the same time. I’m really glad I already peed!
“Stop! Stop! Stop!!” I sputter like a five-year-old between gasps and laughs. I thrash and flail until finally getting a leg free and thrust it forward kicking one of my assailants in his man parts.
“Game off,” Cally groans and falls to the floor. This stops the tickling immediately, as this is our phrase to indicate a serious need for a break in the action: House Rule.
“Cally, are you all right?” I jump off the end of the bed and squat down beside him.
“I think I’m gonn
a yack,” he mumbles under his shortened breath. I’m snickering again.
“I’m so sorry Cally, but you know better than to get in the way of these bad boys.” I stand up and do a dramatic QVC pose, showing off my legs.
“It’s true Callaghan. You know better than to confront those bad boys, unless you wanna try to get between ’em,” Sully smirks at me. He knows it’s coming.
“Fuck you Sully!” I start to move toward him. “You sit up at night jackin’ your two inches, prayin’ to even sniff what’s between my stems.” I launch myself, wrapping around him like a snake. He’s sitting on my bed so I land with my legs around his lower torso and my arms around his head. His face is planted in my cleavage. I throw us of kilter so we’re lying on our sides and I lock my ankles behind his back and start to constrict. I can hear the air leaking from his lungs. He’s laughing so it makes it easier to squeeze harder. He starts motor boating my boobs which just sends me over the edge. I bear down with everything that I have at this time of day. Finally, there is no more laughing and he taps my arm. The universal “I’ve had enough” tap out. I, however, don’t let go.
“Say it,” I command. “Say it first and then I’ll let you tap out.”
“You are my master,” Sully whispers into my boobs and I let him go. Cally and Kavy are dying laughing at this point. Tears are streaming and I think Kavy laughed so hard he farted. Sully rolls onto his back, trying to regain his breath and I hop up from the bed to avoid any retaliation he may be concocting.
“Well boys, since we’re all up and at ’em at the ass crack of dawn on a Saturday, what do you say to takin’ my sexy ass out to breakfast?” I ask determinedly.
“Kid you just gave me frostbite, unmanned Callaghan, and squeezed the life outta O’Sullivan and you want us to take you out? Something is fucked up in that math.” Kavy shakes his head at me with the cutest smirk on his lips.
“I believe I’ve earned a prize, being able to fend you three off on two and a half hours of sleep. So yeah, you douchebags owe me breakfast,” I say, trying to sound confident and serious, but am truly fighting off the giggles.
“Okay Kid,” Cally relents. “Let’s go get our master some breakfast, before she kicks our asses some more,” he says smiling at me and hops up off the floor. “Whatcha in the mood for Kid?”
“IHOP!” I jump up and down excited that I’ve won my first battle of the day and then some.
The three of them head for the door to go to their respective rooms and get ready.
“You have to quit wakin’ her up man,” I hear Sully chastise Kavy. “Why are you still crawlin’ in her bed after you send your randoms home? We’re not in college anymore.”
“I’ve been crawlin’ in bed with her for what? Thirteen years. I sleep better with her than I do alone and you know I can’t sleep with anything I fuck, so she’s like my comfort blanket man. I’m not ready to be weaned yet.” Kavy shrugs and keeps walking down the hall to his room. I laugh to myself, thinking how jacked up our little family would seem from the outside looking in. But I smile thinking about how amazing our strange family is, and I wouldn’t trade it for a thing in this world.
Once my boys have exited my lair I flip on a lamp so I can see something. My room is a comfortable space. My floors are dark walnut hardwood with a charcoal rug under my California king bed. The tufted suede, light grey fabric headboard stretches three quarters of the way up the wall. My bed linens are grey and cream, with swirly designs and accent pillows in chartreuse. My dresser is an antique that was left to me; it’s a substantial walnut piece of furniture that smells like home. I have a few other pieces of furniture throughout the room: a chartreuse fabric reading chair in the corner by the window, a cream ottoman at the foot of my bed, bedside tables that are beat up walnut treasures that I found at a flea market years ago, and an enormous cream dressing table with an equally large mirror above it against the wall. I grab a pair of jeans and a long sleeved T-shirt from my dressing room, go over to my dresser and get a bra and underwear…comfort is the name of my game. I’m going to have to jump in the shower and wash my body, because I smell like whatever Kavy brought home last night. Yuck!
I decide not to wash my auburn wavy hair that’s standing on end and just pull it up in a messy bun on top of my head. I’m in and out of the shower in no time. My mirror isn’t even steamed up. I look at the reflection of my naked body. It’s not a bad body to look at I guess. Just that round rippled scar in the center of my chest right below my bust line and the gnarly mangled one on my hip. I put a hand over each of them and take a deep calming breath. No need to focus on that right now.
I am just pulling my boy shorts up when I hear a knock at the bathroom door. I know I’m not going to get a chance to answer before it’s opened so I just adjust my too big for my frame boobs in their cups and wait for the intrusion. Kavy pops his head in.
“Ready Kid?” he asks, with a shit eating grin on his face.
“Do I fuckin’ look ready, Kavy?!” I don’t even make eye contact. He pushes the rest of the way into my bathroom and sits on the edge of the tub behind me while I grab my lotion and look at him in the mirror. He’s staring at my ass.
I flip down the top of my boy shorts and start rubbing lotion into my scar working my way up my hard stomach to my chest and arms, never looking at Kavy. Once lotioned, I pull my jeans on breaking his concentration on the free show. His gaze travels up to my eyes (down to my boobs and back up to my eyes). He looks worried.
“What Kavy?” I ask annoyed.
“You want me to quit comin’ into your bed at night, Kid?” he asks sheepishly. I know he’s serious though. I throw my shirt over my head and turn around to look at him leaning my ass against the marble vanity, crossing my arms across my chest.
“No Kavy. I like it when you crawl into my bed at night after you’ve sent your evening’s piece of ass packing,” I respond, dripping with sarcasm. He glances up at me with a look that I can only identify as fear.
“I’m sorry, Kid. I won’t come in here again. I didn’t know you hated it so much. We’ve been sleepin’ together forever.” He looks down at his giant hands folded in his lap. I walk over to him, and reach down grabbing his chin. I tilt his head up to look me in the eye.
“Fuck off, Kavy. I’m just givin’ you shit.” I smile down at him with my green eyes aglow. He smiles back, not yet convinced.
“I’m serious, Kid. You need to tell me if I’m outta line here.” He’s somber. I’ve never thought about it. It’s been our reality since the first day we met.
September 25, 2000
I’m a freshman at the University of Chicago. It’s my first day of class, and I’m so ready to get this college show on the road. I graduated a year early from high school and that was after I had started kindergarten a year early, so here I am a freshman in college just a few days older than seventeen. I hated high school! I hated everything about it: the students, the teachers and staff, the parties, the drugs, the classes, the cliques, the fucking building drove me nuts in the end. It felt like a prison that I couldn’t escape; so I took summer school every year, correspondence classes, and graduated at sixteen years old. Now I’m here, ready to start a new chapter in my life.
I’m sitting in Introduction to Political Philosophy, and in walk three guys. I usually sit in the front of classes, but today I decided to sit in the back and get a feel for what college is all about and then next class I will sit in the front row and engage. Of course sitting in the back means the three guys are headed in my direction. Great.
“O’Sullivan, you’re seriously laggin’,” the guy with the buzzed hair and body to die for says to the guy that looks like he just walked out of an Abercrombie & Fitch ad. The guy bringing up the rear is really tall (basketball player?) and looks like he just came in off the beach. Bright blue eyes and sun highlighted blond hair. He’s dreamy to say the least. He’s also the quietest of the group.
“Fuck off, Kavanagh! We started what five minutes ago? Perfecti
on takes time bitch,” O’Sullivan (Abercrombie boy) scoffs in return. Kavanagh rolls his eyes and when he rights them in his head they land on me. I’m not staring per se, but intent upon them. How could you not be?
“Dibs!” Kavanagh yells and runs toward me. As he does, the other two look at me and start to hustle in my direction. I look back down at my notebook and pretend not to notice the five-year-olds approaching.
“Hey,” Kavanagh purrs too close to my ear. I slowly pivot my head to the side and almost brush his nose with mine. He’s really good looking. Straight nose, square jaw, blue-grey eyes, light brown buzzed hair, a broad linebacker body he must work on day in – day out (athlete?), and a voice like Vin Deisel. Yum!
“Personal space,” I say, with virtually no emotion in my voice. His eyebrows rise. He was not expecting that response. I have to hold in the snicker and smile that are now simmering below the surface. Next I hear a knock on my desk from the other direction. I rotate my head in the direction of said knock, my hair falling into Kavanagh’s face. My eyes meet beach boy’s.
“Hi,” he purrs at me. I’m positive that’s a surefire panty dropping smile if I have ever seen one. His dimples are so deep I could store snacks in them. Those bright blue eyes are glistening with delight.
“Personal space.” He gets the same response as Kavanagh. His dimples are gone and a furrowed brow appears. Now there’s a hand on my back. I take a deep breath so as not to forcibly remove the hand from its owner.
“Hey.” I can feel O’Sullivan’s breath on my neck. I have to rotate my whole body to face him which forces him to stop touching me. There is desire in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. His hair is close to black, cut short and spiky, his eyes are like two milk duds, his nose has been broken but it doesn’t distract from his manly face (model?).
“Personal space,” I repeat, as I have to the other two. His face drops and he glances at his cohorts.
“You can’t be a lesbian,” Kavanagh says, running his hand through my wavy auburn hair. I’ve hit my limit. I whip my head and body around so fast it catches all three off guard, including Kavanagh. I snatch his fingers in my hand and rip them back with such force he’s on his knees, before he knows what hit him.
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