Yvette Louise Melech
Bio
Stories (16/0)
Doomsday Was In Our Notebook Tickets To Die At Sea
We set up shop in a rotten hole. Behind the Aruba striptease bar. Most men who visit pole dancers are either sneaky civil servants. Lawyers on a bendy road. Some judges drop in for a pint on the house. Inside my back street bar I had artists paintings on my walls. It wasn’t my idea that the strippers club was next door. It’s just the way it goes in cities. One can’t be picky. The price of renting a old room costs as much as flying to the moon. For a years rent. That is, I mean one has to grab the bull by it’s horns, if one wants to make any pennies or dimes in cities nowadays. On pulling up a few old chairs. I found a few old tables. Stuck them all down to the floor. Judges eyes are all rolling anyway one way or t’other. No one knows what the blinking heck is going on in either port. I looked through a keyhole.
By Yvette Louise Melech2 years ago in Humans
Spiders With Fangs Are released from A Russian drone.
Just before the war broke out in Ukraine I found my fathers lost sister. On thinking she was dead from World War Two. I lost my own mother who was going practically blind from fear of going under the surgeon’s knife. The man I’d been with eighteen years had an affair. Then the pandemic broke out. I had two teenage son’s to care for. Two houses on opposite sides of England to run. A sad mean family full of boring worms from one side of my fence holding busting wallets. No wonder their wives dropped dead. One dark knight clicks his fingers treating me like a slave. Once I needed a few dime for the run of my London show but, I’m not near anywhere his sad lonely balls. I’m left hanging on a rope to be hung with a sinking pot of ‘ paint me green Mr Mean ’. ‘ Oh, have you read the Daily news? ‘ I never knew we were snapped by a man with a lens. Hey dude. How awfully rude ! One photographer doing a silliohette in our old racing porchette. ‘Don’t forget to smile for the camera. Say ‘cheese pretty please’ !
By Yvette Louise Melech2 years ago in The Swamp
A Russian Commander Thinks He’s About To Hang Me. Am I Dead Or Alive ?
I’d been one of the lucky ones. I missed a bullet by a margin. On doing a run to grab a loaf of bread. One Russian dude caught me in a net. He threw a huge fishing net right over my head.
By Yvette Louise Melech2 years ago in Horror
The Girl With The Glass Eye
They think I have an addiction to shades. My shades are my eye cover. Be it one of my eyes is glass. Not an ordinary glass. Mine is not breakable. The undermining roots of this tale is all because of an owl. This is how the story goes.
By Yvette Louise Melech2 years ago in Earth
A Painting In The Cellar ( part three )
The Lights went out under German mountains. Xavier’s model Laura slept like a baby. Xavier himself had been arranging his studio to welcome Laura to sit for him accordingly. He was a perfectionist in areas for his brushes, oils, tools to pump, bend oil.
By Yvette Louise Melech2 years ago in Fiction
The Artist and Goldilocks (From,The Cellar Has A Secret)
Xavier smiled a large bloating grin, after what felt like a thirty minute spread of time when he unlocked his door of his art chateaux. He provided Laura his new model with an opening welcome ceremony. She’d waited patiently on his steps. He gave her a huge applause.
By Yvette Louise Melech2 years ago in Humans
A Painting In The Cellar
Xavier was based in a village in Germany. He was an unusual mixture. Genetically speaking. A Chinese and German blend from his parents love boat had produced him. He was a highly strung artist who drank vodka like a fish. Hed ditched his German wife who couldn’t cope with his artistic temperament. Once he started drinking he became bad tempered. Lost his cool. Began throwing things at his wife. She took off to a nearby village in the German mountains, but remained very supportive to his art career.
By Yvette Louise Melech2 years ago in Humans