We bear witness to and experience many beautiful and harsh things on this earth. I want to share the beauty. The raw. Write about those things and create worlds from parts of our own. I hope you enjoy my work.
Random naked man Seen in the kitchen again Nice to meet you clothed
When our eyes met, it was as if I could truly feel my heart. For the first time, I was acutely aware of its heavy presence in my breast, beating against its bone cage. The strong sense of serene behind his eyes eased every muscle in my body. I had never felt so sure of myself. He sat upon a rock, reminding me of a lanky frog from a children's book. He leaned upon his arms, legs dangling, playfully swinging. His toes were bare to the open air. I offered him a smile. Slight and warm, but confident. I dared not scare him to leap away. His eyes brightened, piercing me with pale green light. He straightened his back and his brow furrowed. He was studying me. I pictured the clockwork of his brain. Tiny copper gears grinding out what to make of this stranger. I smoothed my dress and sat crisscrossed on the bank. Selecting out three round stones, I began to juggle them with spirit. I stuck out my tongue and he laughed. The sound was softer than I had imagined. Far better laugh than my own which had once been compared to the hearty chuckle of a twelve-year-old boy. I fumbled my grip causing one of the rocks to bounce off another into the water. I jumped up into a curtsy as if that were the intended ending of my performance. He quickly slid off the rock and disappeared. When he returned he had a small blade of grass which he slid between his fingers. Lifting his hands to his mouth he blew. The whistle was strong. Carried to my ears by the wind. We faced one another from the opposing embankments. Our fleeting vapors of breath visible in the morning chill. Expressions sober. Jaws relaxed. He risked a wink. I bit my lip. Peeling off my sandals I waded. The clear water frigid against my thighs. There was a loud splash as he dove under the surface, swimming a circle around me like an elegant sea serpent. It surprised me how long he had held his breath. I felt a rough scratch against my leg and thought I had collided with a rock. He rose from the river and I lept back. Water wept off his skin. Skin made of lime and silver scales. Coating his arms and chest like shimmering chainmail. A pair of thin gills on his neck opened and inhaled the fresh air. I stood rooted. By fear or fascination, I couldn’t discern. The current grew stronger and I found myself being dragged under by the ankle. He gripped tight. Scales piercing my flesh. I gulped a breath and submerged. I kicked hard my free leg greeting his thorax. His hold loosened and I wriggled free, breaching the surface. I can’t fucking die like this! This is not how I go! Frantic I sought a weapon, a sharp rock, anything. I could hear him behind me. His gills exhaled like the air control valve of a car. I could feel my heart again. This time pounding, screaming for me to swim. I reached the bank. My dress clung to my legs as I attempted to heave myself out of the water. I caught hold of a thick tree branch as his powerful arms latched around my waist. The branch gave a loud crack. A sharp pain coursed through my cheek where the branch had drawn blood. I was hoisted back into the river thrashing against his hold. Part of the branch still in hand, I saw its end, now splintered and pointy. With every ounce of strength I could muster. I cried out. Drove the branch into his back as far it would go. He let out a sorrowful ear-splitting trill. I was thrown into the waters. His bright green eyes soured to grey. His body fell limp. He disappeared beneath the torrent of our warfare. The clear stream stilled infused with crimson.
Shapes of Love
It was a modest thing. A black thing. Cloaked in moleskine. Tobacco and vanilla perfumed its parchment. I hadn't a clue then, the role this book would play. But I could feel it's importance. Its enigmatic significance. They called me demented. Madwoman.