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No Cygnet for Sleep: 4

‘No Cygnet for Sleep’ contains strong language, sexual scenes, drug use, and gore.


No Escape From Eagle’s Eye

By Jivan Ward

I early wade through bodies stand by bar sip pint and wait for text. Last text Hugo try inspire me excitement say She’s fit, Kami, she’s well fit. Last time I date awful I blunder on top blunder her eyes spoke disappointment and never again. I look round to tight dresses necklace earrings sway like wind chimes and dress shirts or T-shirts some men in between. Look round to bar amiable subdued neon blue hue no bass thud drum beat oppression here talk audible and think talk what I should plan now. Natural and flirty they say Be Yourself. Talk about what she interested. Smirk never smile. Read online touch first thing glance hand on arm and relax and Kami don’t drink too much for fuck’s sake. Sip pint and down to phone nothing and look around to couples lined by wall in booths some quiet some laugh and flirty some look to argue most look to love. My love’s four year absence not but vodka sponge wine scholar big hole for latex fun once absence brim with blond hair brown eyed robin-like lover. Turn to bar backwash slosh bottom of glass and order.

Look to text Hugo say She’s fit, Kami, she’s well fit. Think what prefer of inanimate colours tones shapes and trim. Sultry black curls clear green eyes pear bell bottom and symmetrical face. Think what prefer of shades of emotion filters of perception intelligence upbringing and funny bone. Italian neorealist movie buff crime fiction reader younger sister middle class dry wit litterateur extrovert no-manic-pixie-dream-yawn who want anyone that happy.

Turn to bar bottom of glass clunk and order. Sip pint up to crow’s feet smiling eyes cross bar out of place body foreign far away. Think of red satin sheets lips cold frigid body tight but loose of old avian marble. Crow’s feet smile and I smile to lipstick smirk. She brush gray blond hair back eyes dip to my chest up eye handshake eye fuck. I gulp pint. Look down to bar circles of spirits and lager stick to wood and foam coaster and stay wait for text.

Touch. Up to tickle-touch aquiline eyes inquisitive say You’re coy I love it. Hand not left arm she soft hold for gentle intrusion. Say, It’s a certain kind of charm, I guess. She laugh loud than expect and look down shirt trouser to shoe glance up me in second felt like for me to notice well. She take hand and lead to table. Eyes say sit down and she say Ane, yours? Say, Kami. She say You’re not waiting for someone are you?


Jivan Ward

Jivan Ward was born and reared in London, where he learnt that there’s more to life than what surrounds you. Stumbling out of a tumultuous passion for music, into the corridors of libraries and the dank recesses of fiction, he began writing poetry and short stories before going to university to study the craft and art of writing. Tit led to tat and he works in retail and is currently writing a novel and running a blog. He believes the internet is a force of neutrality and that the publishing industry should invest more in its authors than its devices.

For more Information on this Series, Visit: No Cygnet for Sleep: An Introduction
To Follow the Entire Series, Visit: No Cygnet for Sleep: Jivan Ward

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