What colour do you like best to paint with?
This is a difficult one.
Apart from River, my art is the most important thing in my life and I get so
lost in it that I’m not really thinking about what colours I’m using. I get an
idea for a painting and then I just paint it. I don’t plan paintings in advance
so I don’t plan colours.
Blue and purple are my
favourite colours… well and that really nice shade of green that’s almost blue,
and rose pink, and the really deep red that I use to shade red roses, and the
green that accents trees in spring, and the yellow that I use for highlighting
hair and sometimes on the sun and lots of things that the sun touches in bright
paintings.
My paintings are lighter
than they used to me, not so dark anyway. River has a lot to do with that,
because he makes me feel lighter. But, I think purple and blue are my
favourites… kind of… sometimes. I really like painting skies with purple and
pink. I like the way that light reflects on the underside of clouds and then
kind of bleeds into sky and any water that’s around. It’s nice to use oils and
acrylics to paint those pictures because the paints blend really nicely and…
Oh. River tells me I’m getting off the point. I do that a lot when I’m talking
about my art.
I think the point I’m
making is that I can’t choose what colour is my favourite.
What is your favorite scent?
River. He smells so nice all the time. I like it best when he uses the shampoo that smells like apples and it’s all sharp and sweet. It’s nice when all the artificial smells wear off, though, like when he’s sweaty or he hasn’t used products in the shower and I can actually smell the smell of River. My favourite part of him is when I put my nose in… What? Why can’t I talk about that? It is my favourite scent after all. It isn’t as if I’m going to go into details about what I do down there… like when I use my tongue to… Alright, Alright… I’ll leave it there. River, River is my favourite scent.
Apart from that… rain. I
really like the fresh smell when it’s raining loads. I like to dance in the
rain, but River won’t come out with me most of the time. He says I’m weird but
I don’t care. I like being weird if it means I can dance in the rain. So what
if it’s cold because then, when I come back in, I have a warm shower and mostly
River gets in the shower with me and… Alright… Okay… I don’t know what you’re
so worried about anyway. You told me to be honest didn’t you? I am NOT sulking.
How far backward can you bend? (LOL)
All the way. I can put my feet on my head. I used to be able to go back further and put my feet on my shoulders but I haven’t been so flexible since I got hurt. River says that I’m a freak for being able to do what I can with my body, but he should have seen me before. It’s been quite hard getting this much flexibility back and I’m determined to go as far as I can, although River doesn’t like it when I use all my skills because he says it’s too much for him. I tease him all the time for not being adventurous enough. He’ll play sometimes and then I can… Oh, not again! Can I say ANYTHING? And don’t forget who’s supposed to be giving this interview anyway. I don’t see your name on the top of the page.
Coffee,
What’s
Early riser or late to bed?
Both. I don’t sleep very much. I suppose it’s because I was always on call with my Masters and I could be woken at any time, so I guess I got used to staying awake just in case. I tend to nap a lot during the day.
What is your favorite place to be touched?
So, am I allowed to answer this one without interruptions. As long as I’m good? Honey, I’m ALWAYS good. Aw, that hurt.
Actually, the place I
like to be touched more than anywhere, is on my hair. No one ever used to touch
my hair before. They were too busy touching the rest of me. Sometimes, someone
would brush my hair, before a show or something, and I have always loved to
brush my hair myself but no one touched it just for the sake of it.
One of my first proper
memories of River was him brushing and drying my hair. I like it when I cuddle
up to him and he strokes my hair. Of course, it’s a lot shorter now, but that
doesn’t matter, it’s the top part that feels nicest. Sometimes, he kind of
wriggles his fingers in it and makes little circles on my scalp and it makes me
shiver and it gets hard… Sigh, I’m going to ignore that… hard to concentrate
and not go to sleep. River says I’m like a cat, but I haven’t really seen a cat
so I don’t know what they do
Ideal evening; cuddling or sex?
What do you think? I’m not going to say another word because, if I do, River will hit me again.
On the other hand, I do
like cuddling. I like to have a shower and put on the big fluffy bathrobe and
snuggle up to River on the sofa. We watch films and talk about all sorts of
things. Although, thinking about it, we pretty much always end up having sex
anyway so, I suppose – both.
Favorite fabric, silk or fleece?
Silk, it’s cool and soft and makes a really nice noise when it moves, kind of a swishing noise. I like to rub my cheek on it and wrap it around me. When I was with my Master I had a robe I used to wear when I was dancing sometimes. It was all swirly colours and made of silk. I loved the way it felt against my body.
On the other hand,
fleece is lovely. When I lie on the big white sheep in front of the fire, it
feels like I’m sinking right into it and it’s so warm and comfortable. I like
to rub my cheek against that too, and to raise my arms over my head and wriggle
so it tickles my body.
From the way he’s
looking at me, I know River doesn’t want me to mention this but it’s one of my
favourite places to have sex. Don’t look like that, I’m not going into details.
Who is David Willis and how did he affect you?
Apart from River,
David is the only man I have ever loved. He was a slave, like me, when we were
with my last master. We fell in love but it wasn’t allowed and he… he… well, we
didn’t know it wasn’t allowed you see. We’d never been told.
How did he affect me?
Well… it’s not easy to talk about but… He was my first love. He was the only
thing I can ever remember having loved before River. He opened my heart and,
for a long time I couldn’t bear to live in a world that had done something so
bad to him. He taught me about true sacrifice, about loving someone so much
you’d do anything for them, no matter what it cost.
I think that, without
David I would never have left my Master and I would still be there now, not
really living, not like this. David make me think, made me feel, made want to
break free… to be free to love. In the end it was David who really freed me.
Will you see Robert again? (David's brother)
Of course I will. He’s really nice. I’ve met his dad now, too. It was really hard, in the beginning, to talk about David. The first time we got together and they showed me photographs of him when he was young, I cried a lot and had nightmares about what happened to him. I still have them sometimes, but not so often these days.
He looked so happy in
the photographs, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He still had some of
that sweetness when he was with me but he was different, of course, a different
person. I wish I’d known him like he was before. I think I would have loved him
even more. No… I don’t think it would have been possible to love him more.
Sorry River. I know you don’t like it when I talk about being in love with
David. No matter what you say, I can see it in your eyes. But I can’t help it.
I was in love with him. No, it’s okay River, I’m fine. I can talk about it now,
you know that, but it still hurts. It will always hurt.
How do you forgive others for their crimes against you?
I don’t understand what you mean? Oh. Well, I don’t really think about it. I don’t hate them, I never had. Why would I? They’re not part of my life anymore and… well… I don’t really remember the early times, the bad times when they were… you know… training me, and after… Well, sometimes it was hard but…
I don’t know how to explain
really. It wasn’t a bad life, you see. I was warm and comfortable and well fed.
People were nice to me, on the whole. When I danced I was in another world, a
wonderful world where it was only me and the wind and the movement. I loved to
use my body to express the way I was feeling and the sense of excitement was
the best feeling. It still is when I’m able to dance, although it’s not often
these days.
I didn’t know that what
I was doing was wrong, not then. When we did shows, I had a really good time, especially
when it was just me and David. Our voices went well together and when we… I’m
sorry River, but I did… I did have sex with David as part of the show, and I
did enjoy it. I’m not ashamed of it, not even now. It was part of my life and
it’s a part that’s precious to me because I shared it with David.
Okay, sometimes I didn’t
like it when I had to have sex with strangers, because they weren’t always very
nice to me, but I don’t hate them, because that’s what I was supposed to do and
I guess that’s what they were supposed to do.
I’m not saying that I want to go back to that, but it wasn’t
a bad life and so I don’t see there’s anyone
to be angry with, or
anything to forgive really.
As for Faith, well… I
suppose I might find it hard to forgive him, not because of what he did to me,
but because of what he did to River. But he’s gone so there’s no point is
there?
I suppose, to be able to
say how I forgive I would have to understand it myself and I don’t really… I
just do.
What does love mean to you?
River. He is everything
to me. He is more important than anyone in the world, even me. I would do
anything for him. When I think about him it makes me smile inside, it makes me
warm. There is a huge part of me that all wrapped up in River and, if he wasn’t
here anymore that part would be a huge hole. I had a hole like that after David
died and it didn’t fill up again, until I finally let him go, and he took the
emptiness with him.
Love is about sacrifice.
It’s about being allowed to be yourself but being part of someone else at the
same time. Love is being safe and warm and cared for. Love is about never
wanting to have sex with anyone else ever again. No I do NOT keep coming back
to sex. No… I don’t think love and sex are the same thing, or even connected at
all. I didn’t love any of the men I had sex with when I was a slave and I
didn’t love David because we had sex. I was having plenty of that at the time
so it wasn’t anything special. Except that it was special because it was with
David. I think that’s what love is… something that makes everything special,
even things that have always been around, things you haven’t thought twice
about before.
Well… let’s face it, I
haven’t exactly had a lot of practice
with being in love, so it’s the best I can do.
What exactly
was your 'job' while you were held in bondage?
I was expected to spend a lot of time taking care
of myself – practicing my skills, keeping my body fit, making sure my skin was
soft and flawless, taking care of my hair and that kind of things.
I didn’t have any duties around the house at all,
although sometimes I’d serve at Master’s dinner parties.
The most important thing I did was the performance.
In the beginning it was mostly having sex with people my Masters told me to
have sex with, but when they realised what I could really do with my body, they
stared to concentrate on the performing.
I used to do a show mostly every night. Sometimes
it was just dancing and sometimes singing too. With my last Master I used to go
out to other places to perform and lots of people would come to watch. I liked
that, it made me proud. I liked it best when my Master told me how much respect
and honour I brought him. He’d take me to his private rooms and sometimes we
wouldn’t even have sex; he’d just pet me and let me fall asleep on the cushions
or even in his bed sometime. It was lovely to wake up in a proper bed with a
warm body and someone’s arms around me. It’s lovelier now it’s River, of
course.
What happens at the
church that causes such a turnaround in your attitude?
I think that, until
then, without realising it, I was feeling guilty about everything that
happened. Then, in the church, especially when I was talking to Robert, I
realised that, if I didn’t go on, if I didn’t get strong and make a good life,
I would be throwing everything he did for me back in his face.
The guilt kind of… well
it didn’t go away but it stopped being the most important thing, the thing that
makes it hurt most when I think about David. After that, it was easier to think
about him and it was easier to want to live. Of course, having River there with
me was a huge thing too. He had gone to so much trouble to find Robert, and to
arrange the meeting and the painting and everything, I realised that I was
being really selfish and I needed to snap out of it and start living in the
present and not the past.
It was just a shock that
jolted me out of my self-pity I guess.
WOW, is it done? I feels
like I’ve been talking about myself for ages. Not that it’s a problem but I
figure everyone must be bored by now. Thanks for listening to me rambling. I’m
tired now. I still get tired a lot. I’ll probably sleep in the car when River
takes me home. Maybe I’ll take a nap on the fleece.
Can love ever be forbidden? Can the strongest of
all human emotions be denied because someone tells you it cannot be?
When Silver made his decision he very nearly
paid with his life. Now River is faced with his choice believing that it is
only his career at stake. However, when Silver’s past catches up with him River
finds that there is more at stake than he could ever have imagined.
Synopsis
River wants to be a nurse. He is working towards
the fulfilment of his dream by working as a carer is a Care House. Residents
come and go and River learns to keep a professional face no matter how
difficult the resident might be. Then Silver arrives and turns his world
around.
After six months in a coma following an apparent
attempt on his life, Silver is locked inside his own mind, interacting with the
outside world on only a very basic level. Right from the beginning River
struggles to keep his feelings for the beautiful and enigmatic, Silver on a
professional footing.
As Silver slowly opens up it becomes more and
more difficult for River to look on him with purely professional eyes. As their
love grows River becomes more and more suspicious that Silver’s mental health
probelems may arise from a past more horrific than anyone had previously
imagined and when that past explosively catches up with them he is caught in a
nightmare that threatens not only to destroy but to end both of their lives.
Escaping from an impossible situation thanks to
River’s quick thinking and a professionalism he thought he had lost, they think
they have finally laid the past to rest and can face a future where they can
openly declare their love and live a live free from fear.
But the past is not going to let them go that
easily and once again catches up with them. With danger facing them down the
barrel of a gun River, once again, saves them with explosive and tragic
consequences.
Still the past will not leave them alone and, as
Silver slowly grows more and more distant and their love seems doomed River
makes a final attempt to lay the past to rest once and for all.
Will Silver be able to finally break away from
his past and make a future with River? That depends on a priest, a painting and
a long walk through a churchyard.
Teaser Excerpt:
Feeling
more confident and realising that I have to ‘project a confident and
professional air to reassure the resident and help to ease them into the new
surrounding and routine that mark their transition from the institutional
environment and the radically different routine and environment of a
residential setting’, I compose myself. Yeah, I know, I’m a geek with a
photographic memory, although knowing the rules doesn’t necessarily mean I
always follow them.
“Silver,”
I say softly as I shake him gently by the shoulder. I wonder how many
times he has heard a smirk in the voice that calls him by name. I know
that I have, often enough.
With a
sigh the figure in the bed turns over, flinging out an arm with a soft
moan. I freeze. Fucking hell... I mean what the fuck.... fucking
HELL.
He is
nothing like I had expected, not that I had really been expecting anything but;
with a name like Silver I had kind of expected him to be fair; ash blonde or
something. But he isn’t. He’s dark, very dark. His hair is
jet black and long, and even tangled and dry as it is; it makes me want to run
my fingers through it. I can imagine myself gently tugging out the knots
and running conditioner down the length of it, strand by strand. It would
be soft and silky and...
Shit! And
that’s just his hair. The things I wouldn’t want to do with those lips.
Fuck. Never in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined... Gods he is
beautiful; not just cute like Max, not handsome or pretty or any of the other
words used to describe how someone looks; he isn’t even drop dead gorgeous: he
is beautiful, simple as. Lying there with his hair all over the place,
his long coal black lashes trembling on his milk white cheeks, one arm thrown
out revealing the creamy skin and well defined muscles of his bare shoulders
and chest he is a fucking angel... a real, living, breathing, flesh and blood
angel.
Gods damn
them; they knew. The bastards knew the effect he would have on me and all
the giggling and snickering now make sense. Shit, I am practically
creaming my pants just looking at him. I shake my head and laugh at
myself. Get a grip, River. Just keep your mind above your waist and
remember that this is a resident, a patient, a sick person who needs you to be
strictly professional and... Ah fuck, why did he have to stir right at this
moment? Why did he have to let out that cute little sigh that parts his
lips and makes me want to... to... Shit!!!!
Moving
his head from side to side drowsily on the pillow, Silver gives a sleepy little
grunty moan thing and yawns showing absolutely perfect white teeth... of
course, although I notice that there is a gap right at the back on the
bottom. I don’t know why but that makes me smile; somehow, something that
mars that perfection, even to such a slight degree, is a huge relief.
Just when
I am managing to get myself under control and have a goofy smile on my face,
Silver opens his eyes. If I had thought that Silver with his eyes closed
was beautiful, Silver with his eyes open is... unreal. At least now I
understand why he is called Silver. His eyes are grey, a strange pale
silvery grey with an almost metallic sheen, like mercury. For a full
minute I just stare at him and he stares back. There is no curiosity in
his eyes, no fear, no challenge; no anything. I have never seen eyes that
are so blank.
Quite
suddenly it occurs to me that I am staring and really not being very
professional at all. I force myself to smile, a tight professional smile and
not the goofy grin that is threatening to break out at any moment.
“Hello
Silver, my name is River, did you sleep well?”
The
silver grey eyes regard me steadily but there is no indication that he has even
heard me let alone understood me. I broaden my smile and try again.
“It’s
morning, Silver, time to get up. Do you need me to help you with that?”
At last
there is a reaction, just a tiny shake of the head. The silver eyes
flicker and with a sigh he throws back the quilt and I am blinded. At
least I wish I had gone blind because if I had I wouldn’t have been staring at
that body with quite so much raw hunger. Fuck he is beautiful all over.
Turning
away I walk to the chest of drawers, hoping that he had brought some clothes
with him. The first drawer contains pyjamas and I wonder why the hell
they hadn’t put any on him last night, although a moment’s reflection supplies
the answer: bastard.
Trying to
keep my face turned and my eyes well above the waist I hand Silver the pyjamas.
“Can you
put these on?”
Without
making a sound he takes the clothes from my hands and slips them on. I
have to watch, I just can’t help it. I don’t know what kind of condition
he was in before whatever happened, happened, or when he woke up out of the
coma but those physiotherapists have sure done one amazing job over the past
six months. He is slender, even thin, but so well defined that, even
through the cotton pyjamas it is possible to see that he is toned to
perfection, every muscle group well defined.
Shit,
he’s fucking perfect in every way. And when he starts to walk...
My great
grandmother used to be a dancer, way back in the twenties. She was something of
a celebrity back then, and I can remember my grandfather talking about her with
fierce pride on his face. When he was a child he used to go to the
theatre to watch her practice and perform and he would say that even when she
was not on the stage, even when she was just walking down the street, across a
room, getting on a train; she was always dancing. He used to say she
‘walked lightly on the earth’. I have always remembered that phrase - walked
lightly on the earth - and I thought I knew what he meant... until now.
Damn
those physiotherapists have done a good job, a great job, there isn’t so much
as a hint of a limp and he stands very erect with his head up and... walks
lightly on the earth. It’s hard to describe, but he flows, hardly making a
sound, so lightly that it makes you feel that he wouldn’t make a footprint in
snow.
He pauses
in the doorway, waiting. I am staring again. “Do you dance Silver?”
The words just slip out. I forget that he doesn’t know, that he doesn’t
want to know; it’s just that the way he walks makes me think so much of my
great grandmother that I am suddenly sure that he must be a dancer too.
I was born into a poor mining family in the South
Wales
Valleys
I’ve always been a storyteller. As a child, I’d
make up stories for my nieces, nephews and cousin and we’d explore the
imaginary worlds I created, in play.
Later in life, I became the storyteller for a re
enactment group who travelled widely, giving a taste of life in the Iron Age.
As well as having an opportunity to run around hitting people with a sword, I
had an opportunity to tell stories of all kinds, sometimes of my own making, to
all kinds of people. The criticism was sometimes harsh, especially from the
children, but the reward enormous.
It was here I began to appreciate the power of
stories and the primal need to hear them. In ancient times, the wandering bard
was the only source of news, and the storyteller the heart of the village,
keeping the lore and the magic alive. Although much of the magic has been lost,
the stories still provide a link to the part of us that still wants to believe
that it’s still there, somewhere.
In present times, I live in a terraced house in
the valleys with my son and my two cats. My daughter has deserted me for the
big city, but we’re still close. The part of me that needs to earn money is a
lawyer, but the deepest, and most important part of me is a storyteller and
artist, and always will be.
Website: http://shadowofthefallen.co.uk
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