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Flame Out is Mandal's story. And what a story it is, a mix of fem nikita, the terminator, the sopranos and pure sex! Man, woman, black, white, and everything in between, she'll take them on in the bed or with her fists, a gun, a knife what ever is available.. She is a survivalist and she is about to Flameout. sign up for the mailing list at pureobsessions.com has it been over a year now - ago a writer sent me a story, then several more then still more. it was a list that could fill the NY City library to over flowing. Over the course of reading, editing, recording and finally partnering I finally got the guts to ask for his resume It reads like a movie Stranger than fiction So unbelievable it has to be true Excerpt: ĝ.. left home shortly before he turned sixteen. Worked as a self taught heli-arc welder, taught himself the art of fine jewelry production€ AT 36, after a divorce, he bought a VW camper, drove 3 years from California to the tip of Chile. Corrupt police murdered his Girlfriend in Rio and he was severely injured. From there he took a freighter to S. Africa, where for another 3 years he drove from Cape Town, to Kenya, past the civil wars of Ethiopia, The Sudan into Egypt then across to Morocco, he got involved within the hashish trade€Ó No wonder his work flows effortlessly across the page. Hes lived it. Was it.. been there, done that in a way that only Angelina Jolie could pretend to know as Tomb Raider. But I am not the only one to notice, the very verbal and prized BlueFood has seen his work and adores him! So has Bareback Magazine, Girlphoria, Clean Sheets, The erotic woman AND so will you! I am so pleased to have a few of his prose ¨ the flowery, make the girls weep, word play here on Peacockblue (for hot -and i do mean sizzling - lesbian hard core, down and dirty sex stories by JBrooke in audio and text check out girlphoria) THE WATER QUEEN FOR LIL...HER SISTER'S STORY OCEANIA

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OCEANIA by JBrooke

(audio mp3 of oceania)

ATLANTIS lazes as a blue pearl within the deep, blazed as an after glow of gauze, radiant within the depth of mystic lore and one might think upon a gaze that perhaps heaven, her bliss had been spawned. She is world of soft sea creatures and bubbles rising as golden ornaments, dazzling globes glistening yellow, turquoise, green and mixtures of their creators, the Lords and Wizards of a hidden sea empire. It is a water world where finned ghosts called and sought haven and breath and breath of air was never felt.

So very long ago, past time as mortals comprehend, the Ocean Prince and his father called Scaled King, came from the earth, and finding harm on land, touched tail to the salt of water, dreaming and falling Beneath to sea. Within this moment they reared other gentle babes who carried memories of air wars and violence seen there, crushed within their hearts and souls. They, and others of their tribe swooned through evolution as dolphins and whales they called friends and moved towards a city once seen, but now etched deep within the land peoples dreams.

Odd you might say, these creatures of the gill but more queer than those of oxygen and killing ways. So, breathing of the oceans gift, they transposed their bodies and their minds to half man, half woman, sea creature wanderers that worked and toiled, half beast, other spirit, a

cosmic race of ghostly queens and royalty that finally choose gardens of coral, thrones of sponge, kelp and mammals of their kilt as their neighbors of a muted world. They were rare lovers steeped in secrets, lore and kindness, yet not of men of hate, nor woman of want, nor lust, yet simple children desiring safety from the hordes of vicious earth war lords living within a holocaust of death so far above.

Building castles of rock, rain and clouds, braced in canyons where no being might peer, sea carpenters and laborers remembering tears that lulled to surface from lonely depths, only bubbles choreographed in yellow orbs of life and tell tale signs hinted to those above, that their was now an underwater world constructed of dignity and love. There was silence and there was gaiety that perhaps lone from reefs and caves and quiet cuts, more fish than shark delved below, but unless breathed from sea water they would never know, that's the guards, the woman of this clan, maidens, finned female soldiers guarded stealth and ire, a kingdom the land people would forever never enter, and they were called goddesses of war, known to those than knew such thing, simply and elegantly as Mermaids.

As the King sat at reef thrown, Dolphin Queen near his trident, golden tiara strung with pearls along her agate kelp hair, they gazed and smiled at this city, more azure and jade and violet than the Sun. They spoke with minds, nodded in pleasures, looked to borders never would be seen and laughed, for warrior women, half female, royalty of water ways stood at brink, watching, always seeing, forever knowing they be the last barrier of defense. For, fish maids, line of royal blood were created in this universe so far below to warn, to battle if need be, hold sea shell swords to glint of the ocean light, hold the gate against a human foe, and they were valiant, brave, and their Captain's name was, the fiercest and most beautiful of their clan, was Princess Oceania.

Mermaids they were known, battle hardened fierce, filled with love, silent dance of tail, spear, sword glistening from refracted Sun, light traveled fat-oms, bent, some how seen in hands and fingers, languid force, power and grace, these front line femmes. Constructed of vanity, grace and armored speed and power and plates of gills and skin and hair like liquid tourmaline's, they did agree, a secret must be held, for never nor none might know, the Kingdom of God was far below.

With their princess Oceania, struck of scale, skin and fin, and hair as long as the Orca's cries, they journeyed through the black nights, and tales were murmured by seamen, and wayfarers, of golden pots of gold, and then half dolphin human woman, yet it was fable, as lore might be told. Through eons of myth the great King held council with whale, Porpoise, the great Squid, a warrior of its own renown, a secret, a paradise of war, death and purity welled, as the currents swelled, the underworld had its way, as the Mermaids kept man at bay

And so it is, Atlantis dulls gold and other matters of wealth and life is beautiful and every moment held as a jewel, though no such mineral there is known.As war and pestilence rage above, this abode of ocean wave and as surf is white and man knows death, the finned women do protect and when they die, for even love and pride must pass away as the Starfish dances along the currents of such a life, the King smiles as does the Queen. Her majesty holds her trident towards a Sun never seen as tribute and the water parts and mermaids, each and everyone, sing and cry and reappear and sit within the magic city, sipping honey, raising others of their kind and reincarnate and never war again, chosen babes, allowed to finally rest and laze near the soul and heart of their Queen and King, never forgotten, often remembered, often missed and whispered of their way, so much and of course for then and for now and forever so dearly loved.

The Water Queen lives on a thrown of golden water, deep now, deeper still, gliding within the ocular tendrils of sea lillys, still deeper now near the end of the dolphin world, near the solaces of a liquefied earth, seeking, searching, peering up at sun strands breaking the surface streaming in funiculars of light, slender beams, each a secular message that once along air, blue Sky's, life flourished from carbon, nourished, propagated from the wonder of the sun, as her child was created in her womb, when happiness once roved her mind, braced her soul and she was in love, a Princess and young of the first sea.

But that is a past journey, the trek is yet to be taken, still in embryo, bellowed sail, spinets bowed, a sojourn of the a wind driven heart, for the water Kings will not release her heart from the prison and refracted shattered prisms of the reflections of her depth, no not at all, not of her, that she is, and is, and yet still she gasps for air, so deep, saline aqua bubbles struggling to the surface, each possessing a Byzantine word within their glistening circular dream scape's, that she the Queen only sees, as she lazes within pink coral, water wands and pain of the sea rays barb, which pierces her great heart as the moon disengages along the clouds of black, thus extinguishing the light from her soul as she weeps, screams, prays that she will find the surface once again before daylight, as her power and the sea kelp shackles of her love for life are ripped from their moorings and her own redemption rescues her from the magenta rainbows illuminating her path to the surface, so she may breath, live, and see the light of the Sun, her mistress of mirth and Solar greatness.

She is Water Queen, unbreakable, mailable constructed of silver and gold scales, a finned elegant creature of myth, of tales told by men that raged the typhoons of her madness, as canvass sheets, full blown, ignited in flames from the color of her eyes, liquid tourmaline gems of fire, passion and abhorrence of the tragedy of the ordinary, and now, yes now she is journeying along ocean currents, towards the level sea bed of her home, and the star fish and the spined sea urchins and the great whales are rejoicing, for her trident of jewels is awaiting her, there in the depths of her soul, and all, everything of beauty that ever existed in a under world of beauty are glad, a simple word, but yes glad that their Queen will soon be home, this is the tale as it was told to me, for I must to survive believe in such things, for without myth of her, I, as well as all poet will simply perish, waste away and die.

IT shall be a world of reticent dreams, of alchemy, of the music, the octaves of the smiling of the cello's, the violas and the violins, and the whisper of the Grey translucent water spectrum's spilling from a sky of eternal soul wept tears. There will be God, there will be streaks of silver shards in the night, globules of cold fire that within a magnificent moment will whisper her name, and it shall be called our mistress of beauty and it shall be called life. For water is continuous and thus a miracle, miraculous, a glimmer, glistening in jeweled goblets, a falling failing memory of pewter, of diamond light, of the love of the universe within all of its shadows. It shall be gentleness, its silence, its rage, its elegance, of sky moments, within the barges of coal steamers burdened with fog, laden-ed, to the hulls, drenched, satiated of tears refracting every nuance of the sun, at times the moon. Her liquid tresses will transport such loveliness of moisture here, do you not see, not feel the wetness of the other universes, and how she, the child from the pathos of the darkness calms our soul, graces our hearts with cold wept water strings that bead upon our skin, mix, bide time, blend and soar with the swallows of wet white wings that fly and streak as tumultuous pearl rainbows towards the earth. I do not know such things, but I pray I remember when the drips of platinum water drops fell from the sky in innocence, a drizzle, a deluge, shy, petulant, mercury mirrors of silver arrows, bows struck within gold, blue, opal and moonstone, there, near the waterfalls screaming from the plateaus between earth and Luna. Torrents, life force, ponds, rivers, streams, allowing us a moment to be free from the heat of the world, free, a gift, a weeping orphan in singular multiple shards of dew, fog, washing away the sins, more powerful then fire, iron, for she, the goddess of the liquid world, eats iron, travels within rivulets fire dies within, as on, and in the last moments before the forest sleep, before night swallows the moon. She, they, it is task, so little known, a sister of another world, felt, feld, as if a great blade as struck the very core of the water wheel from its pinions, spilling love to the turned up faces of the morning sparrows. Dance, ballet, cries, silent moans, these Gypsies of cylindrical ovals of sun lit glee, there, blended within the sky, within the darkness, each white drop illuminated as if a secular and singular promise from heaven, mimicking each, a single opal. She and those that echo her are our benefactor, our whore, our courtesan, our lover, a single sonnet of a cooling song on our faces, turned to God, as a reward, as a human and as beautiful and as soothing as moss that lives from this reward for our survival. She is, our cousin, our child, our sisters, she is the wet kiss on my cheek as I turn my eyes to the end of the universe. She is, the Grey, opium touched grace upon my lips, she is, the source of all life, the beginning of time, the end of life if she should choose to vanish from our lives, she is, she shall always be, simply said the great Queen of all life, she is, the rain.