Poem / Poetry
Short Story / Non-Fiction
Poem / Poetry
HI IM BACK ON BOOKSIE AFTER A LONG BREAK FROM THIS SITE DUE TO MEDICAL CONCERNS .. I AM AWAITING A DATE FOR MAJOR SURGERY SO UNTILL THEN YOU WILL HAVE MY COMPANY AS AND WHEN LIFE ALLOWS ME THE TIME :)
Hi, I'm Tracey but I call myself Kinky, mainly for the reason I write under the name of Kinkybits. A nickname my mum gave me as a child from the 1960's knee high kinkyboots
I am an EnglishLady and I love writing with my co-writer, Brian from Tennessee USA. Together we write Short Story’s, Poetry and SpicyErotica. Which is my main reason for being here because I hope you will enjoy reading them all.
Tracey & BrianWelcome You To … Bits of Kinky
We have self published two E-Books, Liquid Mercury, an auto-biography of my rather interesting life and Teddy Bear Magic. A book of children's short story's and adventures, set around a group of magical teddy bears.
ByTracey Owen & R.B.Rueby
A five year old could look at storms in two different ways. They were either pretty to watch or scary like the monster under the bed. I loved to watch the rain as it splashed against the windows. It was just so pretty, especially when I got to see a rainbow in the distance. So on this day, I sat on the floor and squished my nose against the cool, smooth widow. The vibrations from the splatter of rain as the wind drove the droplets hard against the pane felt funny. Mum's voice called from behind me, “Tracey not so close to the window. Move back a bit.”......
My mother sang quietly to start with, and then even louder as the storm itself increased around us. It was a song I had learned from my first day at school. Row, row, row, your boat gently down the stream, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream. It repeated over and over. We all joined in at different times till all were singing the same words, as they overlapped. She got us singing, we repeated it louder each time, the song drowned out as much of the storm noise as possible. As we sung the crash and bangs grew worse, things slammed into the walls, the whole house shook. Glass broke, and then the noise grew so loud my song changed to screams.The whole house started to shake violently, pressure built in my head, the pounding hurt so bad that it was hard to breathe. My sister’s screams mixed with mine, but all the time I could hear my mother's song.
On warm mornings I left for school early, stopped at the same spot on the bridge each day. Climbed on top of the parapet wall where I could swing my feet out and let them dangle over the edge. My chin could rest on folded arms atop of the safety rail, and I would stare hypnotised at the water as it flowed beneath me. The walk home from school wasn't nearly as nice, such a long slow uphill trudge.
A Job Needed
The farmer eyed me up and down, took in my wet, cold, shabby, appearance. The Moor's wind was brutal as the sun dipped low in the sky. A shiver swept through me fromthe cold as I stood in front of the farmer, his frown softened. "OK, you can work for me. You can live in the room above the cattle barn. Its small, but warm.”
The job wasn't a matter of sitting around and looking at sheep all day. The farmer gave me a shot gun so I could scare off the wild dogs and foxes. Needless to say I spent most of the time walking the fields with the shotgun trying to keep a keen eye.
“OK, my horny wood chopper, cool that ardour. I need your help. Take me somewhere in the woods with that.” I nodded to the chainsaw in the bed of the truck. ”Oh, and teach me everything else that I will need to do with wood.” We climbed in the truck and headed off to the forest trails. I smiled when he joined in with my singing. He sang enthusiastically, but was just as off key as I was.
The brick wall alongside me didn’t protect me from the weather, as the breeze was picking up and howling through the ally. I didn’t hear a thing other than the ping of sleet hitting all around me. First thing I knew was a hand clamped over my mouth, and an arm around my throat. I was pulled off balance. Dragged backwards into the drive of the derelict house, and up the path to the garage, some where up the path my shoes fell off. He must have kicked the garage door shut because I heard it slam.
As the door closed behind me, the crowded pub's “Ho Ho Ho, Merry Christmas”, faded to a dull throb. It also separated me from that leech of a Santa that sat by the door. His lager sodden beard lay in limp strands, as its soaked tendrils lay flat against his badly fitted, scarlet tunic. His smile was more of a leer, as he prepared to snake his hand outward to strike any woman that tried to walk past. The hand would thrust out and grasp at any unprotected bottom and then recoil for a second strike as he called out Ho, Ho, Ho from his place of honour by the door. His quickly grabbed feels of any skirted partier was a running joke for the bartenders. Everyone seemed to get a good laugh out of it, except the woman caught.
Sergeant leaned out of the cab window, a big grin on his laughing face. He shouted out in his best parade ground voice, “Tracey you have a face that should always show a smile. These might help.” All six of the lined up troop one by one in perfect drill order marched up to me, saluted, and offered me a red rose and a kiss.
These are just few excerpts from our book if you are interested in purchasing our self-published E-Book available as a downloadable file to your computer please contact us by comment on Booksie or via email at : email@example.com
… @@@@@ …
Teddy Bear Magic
By R.B.Rueby & Tracey Owen
John ran ahead and slid behind a tree as he hid from his sister. Mom always said that he had to look out for Amy, because he was the older brother. She also said that he had to be nice. Although, he never heard her say that he had to be nice to her all of the time. Peeking around the tree he watched his sister as she walked up the path looking from left to right as she went along. Amy was not at all that happy with her older brother right now. He was supposed to stay with her as they walk through the woods behind their house, but he liked to scare her. She looked all around as she walked along the path hoping to catch sight of him getting ready to jump out at her.
A crab raised his eyes out of the sand, to look at the noise maker that woke him up. Crabs are grumpy crustaceans at the best of time and this crab, now had a reason to be a really crabby crab. Wide awake and really irate, he pushed himself up out of the sand and skittered over to the pit where the digger was sitting with arms and legs out of the hole but his bottom was still stuck in. Opening his large claw as he advanced. Brea yelled a warning, but it was to late, SNAP, he latched onto the big toe as it wiggled right in front of the crabby eyes.
The bear was always near little Cindy. If not in the crib with her she was at least sitting and watching over her on a nearby shelf. A couple of years later her little Princess would name the bear with its blue hooded cape Brea Bear. Since they lived on a farm, there were not that many neighborhood children to play with. So, out of necessity a very special attachment grew between them. She would carry it with her always saying that Brea was a magical bear. From that day on Cindy would lead Brea and then the other stuffed animals on quests. They would look for those things that could take away the hurt that she was beginning to feel. She would carry them all over her yard. The trees that run the boarder of the yard defined the boundaries of her kingdom. The happy ingredients that were needed to make good magic could all be found within her kingdom. Just before Cindy was about to enter school, she told her mother a secret,
“If you ask nicely, Brea can work magic.”
Trash Trash and more Trash
Darin staggers from the box yawning, “Where are we,” he spluttered to Krie, “It reeks.” Krie watches Darin's face as he looks around, amused as his jaw drops lower and lower at the sight before him.
“Its the biggest trash can in the world, and we picked the middle of it for a rescue.” Krie says as the flap of the box behind him is pushed aside, as Brea and Frill join them. Shock on their faces as they also look around at the mountains of piled trash.
Brea says, “Well that explains why it smells so bad around here.”
A deep rumbling started at a distance, then grew louder, shaking the earth.
You can read more of Brea and her adventurous friends in chapters like … Black Gold, Frill to the rescue or Christmas Magic and many more in our children’s short story E-Book. Available to Purchase from Bits of Kinky, just comment us at Booksie or email us at: firstname.lastname@example.org
Thank You For Visiting
I befriended a lady from over the sea.
A true English Rose she was introduced to me.
This British lady of words,
By web she crossed worlds.
UK and USA joined united with poetry.
Brian is a gentleman from Tennessee.
He's my best friend and co-writes with me.
So wonderful and kind,
And intelligent of mind.
My cherished partner from over the sea.
Want to hear my voice ?
i have posted a web cam video of me reciting a poem on you tube
if enough people view i might do another ~ link is
If you want to write a quickee (a remark or a hint for example) on this writer's profile, please sign in.