Teaser Tuesday: magazine covers!

Teaser Tuesday:

Since my adorable muse is still on vacation, I am actually spending the free time doing creative stuff and I like where it’s heading. Today (technically, it’s evening now, but hey! It’s still Tuesday!), I share what I’ve been up to lately.

I’ve been playing around with colors and I’m no expert (as yet), but I am working on it. When I was younger, I’ve always wanted to have my own magazine, something I’m currently working on in my spare time.

This cover was done for a story that I’m supposed to be writing for a friend. The model is not mine and if she belongs to you, the reader/browser, let me know and I’ll take this down.

The da Díxons belongs to me and I’m building a fictional fashion empire around them.

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This one is the cover I might go with, but I ran out of color patience! I don’t like the green, but I’m too lazy to change it:

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As for this other one, I’ve never written Tom Cruise into any story of mine before (I used to write Michael Jackson fan fiction, though), so when my friend gave me this challenge to include my favorite celebrity in a story, I decide to go with TC as a businessman and use his birth name. I also give him a son… but the story is yet to be written. 

I had fun creating this magazine cover and the headlines!

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So, I’m not writing, but at least I’m creating. Let me know what you think.

Voir Dire

Short Story #14

Criminal lawyer extraordinaire Marcus da Díxon loves his job and enjoys fighting for sweet justice, but there was one thing he could do without whenever he gets a new case: voir dire.

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Voir dire (from French “to see to speak”) is the process of screening potential jurors held at the beginning of a trial in order to determine whether jurors may possess a bias for or against either of the parties. Attorneys may ask questions of the potential jurors and may remove jurors discovering the appearance of bias, upon the approval of the judge.

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The following short was written for a competition on Wattpad. I wrote it in one sitting. I hope you enjoy it. 🙂

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The room was hot despite the two large industrial fans. The judge, potential jurors, and the prosecutor fanned themselves silently cursing the merciless heat. Even the accused was grumbling about the “wicked heat” and none too discreetly turned to look at the exit in want until he met the steel blue eyes of his lawyer, Marcus da Díxon, defense extraordinaire.

At first glance, Marcus didn’t appear dangerous with his neatly combed auburn hair, cool suit, and calm demeanor. He was attractive despite the slight bump on his Greek nose and thick eyebrows.

However, appearances were deceiving as the old folks say.

Marcus was known for his ruthless ambition in tearing witnesses’ testimonies apart. He challenged the judge, the prosecutor, fearless of being held in contempt of the court. He might as well have been a walking “flipping bird”. He was notorious for his impatience and hated being lied to.

He made a fifty-five-year-old woman cried during his last appearance at the Los Angeles County Superior Court.

But Jamal Winters overlooked his young lawyer’s antics in hopes of attaining the best defense. And this Frenchman was said to be the best. His reputation as a shark in the courtroom had prosecutors upping their game. When he took Marcus on, the first prosecutor assigned to the case suddenly got sick and fled to Norway on vacation.

India Benjamin was the new prosecutor and she had been warned despite her worth of ten years’ experience. She was yet to lost a case and was ready to challenge Marcus head to head. She wanted his head on a silver platter and would stop at nothing until the objective was achieved. India was a proud black woman and a mother of two and when she first laid eyes on Marcus earlier, she had shaken her head thinking that he was no match for her expertise. He still looked like he had milk on his face despite the fact that he was married for ten going on eleven years and a father of three beautiful children.

So far, their head to head  contest was a scoreless draw: Marcus 0 India 0.

A potential juror caught India’s attention. She was brown skin, athletically built and easy on the eyes. Marcus saw how much India wanted that particular juror and he smirked. He hated voir dire and often considered it the worst part of his career. If there was a way for him to skip this, he would’ve been pouring over the case in his private office at this exact moment.

But he couldn’t pass this up.

Unbuttoning the top of his baby blue shirt, he uttered a lazy groan and fanned himself with the notepad he was doodling on.

“C’est chaud!” Marcus exclaimed in his native tongue causing people to look his way. When he saw India’s potential juror’s eyes on him, he popped another button and grinned when he caught her winking at him. “Judge, the woman in the pink shirt second row left just winked at me.” he innocently said much to India’s chagrin.

Judge Anna Corbis nastily looked at him as if saying ‘Playing dirty before the actual trial starts, eh?’ and started, “I didn’t see…”

“She winked,” the bailiff interrupted only for the judge to stare icy daggers at her. She shrunk and apologized for the interruption. “I’m sorry your Honor, but I saw her wink at Mr. da Díxon.”

“Maybe if Mr. da Díxon wouldn’t be such a tease!” India jabbed hoping that the judge would see it from her point.

“What?” Marcus shrugs. “It’s hot, I’m stewing in this heat and you accuse me of being a tease? Do you want me to unbutton the rest of this shirt to prove a point?”

“Mr. da Díxon, that wouldn’t be necessary,” the judge sighs. She had no choice but to dismiss the winking juror. India tried to keep a stern face but she was boiling inside.

Jamal chuckled.

Marcus 1 India 0.

Game on!

WORDS: 662

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Dix-sept The final whistle

My Heart Beats Football

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“Tonight, I have the da Díxon identical twins in studio,” Tony, the brunette television personality smiled handsomely at the cameras. “With rumors swirling around a possible coaching stint to Barcelona or Real Madrid, they’ve promised to set things straight tonight.” He turned to the twins. “Once again, congratulations on winning Euro.”

“Merci,” Ray politely replied.

“What is the most important thing you’ll take away from Euro 2016?”

“The fact that we hosted it and the fact that the boys gave their all in front of the people to win it,” Marcus was looking at the LCD screen that was currently showing footage from the Euro final. “I am proud of them.”

Tony nodded. “Over the course of the tournament, we’ve seen a unified France. But what the nation wants to know is what you’re going to do about Karim Benzema and the likes of Aymeric Laporte.”

Marcus shrugged. “Les Bleus is…

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Seize: We are united!

My Heart Beats Football

This is it.

After two years of preparing, after Deschamps walked out, after a new crazy head coach took over, the moment France was waiting for have finally arrived: the last game of the Euro 2016 tournament. Play time was over. Tonight, it was do or die. Nerves had to take a back burner. Passion, spirit, and heart will take first place. Determination and strength will prevail. This was not a battle for the weak hearted.

Coach had yet to smile wholeheartedly, but he cracked jokes occasionally, took up for his boys when everyone else was dragging them down, and although he shouted at them during training or matches, he had wormed his way into their hearts unintentionally. He was going to be missed.

Joint coach was the total opposite. Ray was open, honest, funny, and a lover. The boys had immediately gravitated towards him from day one and by…

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Quinze: This is our house!

My Heart Beats Football

GAME DAY

Germany v France

Date: 07 July 2016

Venue: Stade Velodrome, Marseilles

Hearts beat erratically out of chests as the French team walked out of the tunnel to whistles and cheers. This match was decisive and Coach had warned them that there was no room for error tonight because “You’ve spent two years preparing for this moment, and any result other than a victory is not acceptable.” The team was also told to play as if their lives depended on it. Ray was both anxious and nervous and he took to biting his fingernails during the speech. He knew what was at stake if Les Bleus made even one mistake.

“We’re going to do fine, Ray,” Giroud assured him. “Don’t worry,” he turned to Griezmann. “Our little Monsieur Plus will score and dedicate the goal to you. Right?”

Griezmann nodded, his head already on the game on hand. “Of course,”

Marcus…

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Quatorze: The Umtiti Effect

My Heart Beats Football

“If the English lose, they’ll blame the pitch,” Marcus joked as he sat in front of the TV watching England take on Iceland in the round of sixteen. “Not that I care, but I owe them a match.”

“And I think the English are not looking forward to it, given that you said you’ll be giving your interview in French last November had you touch the English soil.” Olivier Giroud expressed, his eyes glued to the screen. Wayne Rooney had scored the only goal thus far, a penalty.

Marcus shrugged. “You don’t see the English coming to France and giving their interviews in French.”

“Good point!” Sagna exclaimed.

Ray was taking tactical notes on his Genius tablet. “I don’t think England will win this match, though,” he volunteered.

Every man turned to him, surprised.

“The English might be in the lead right now via a Rooney penalty, but according to…

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He’s not one for dancing, but …

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DAY 10

… he could move to the beat and keep the rhythm in his feet although dancing was not his thing.

There’s a bottle of his favorite Grey Goose vodka dangling from between his fingers when his beautiful wife of ten years put on that Annie Lennox song and beckon him to come closer. He doesn’t have the willpower to say no.

Her small, dainty hands rest on his waist as his comes up to wrap around her warm body enveloping her in his embrace, the bottle pressing cold against the small of her back as ocean blue eyes stared into honey-colored orbs.

Jessicia softly sang along to the song as her strong husband led her across their living room floor, the bottle somehow still in his hand. There was no need for words. Marcus dancing in time with her was all she needed to hear. And when he gracefully leaned in to kiss her, abruptly cutting off her singing, she wants to stay like this: just them, their bare feet moving in time with the music.

july 10

^ Playing catch-up is becoming hard, but I won’t let up. 

^ The Annie Lennox song is ‘Why’.

^ This week’s random inspiration photo was the inspiration behind this one.

For Word-High July