Dark Lantern

Today's muse: Verse Escape: Friday 55

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Dark Lantern

She groped in the darkness, afraid she would never find her way.

Terrified she would.

She was so tired. If she could just find...

There! A light. He had lit one, after all.

She was mere steps away when it vanished.

And the pitch black swelled with his mocking laughter.

The Cave

Today's muse: Verse Escape: Friday 55

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The Cave

She told no one. After all, who would believe it?

But she knew the truth that lived alone in her shattered soul. Truth that clawed for release from the darkness he cultivated to keep it hidden, barricaded from salvation.

In the shadows of her padded cave, she spirals down, chanting her mantra.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

Learning to Fly

Today's muse: Daily Writing Practice

Today's Prompt: Learning to fly.
(okay, actually it's an old prompt from April 30)

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Learning to Fly

I didn’t ask for this. I mean, seriously, if someone had told me this would happen, I would have tapped out; walked away before I was shoved out on my ass. Hell! Not on my ass at all…free-fucking-falling, man!

All was good. I’m there with my brother and sister and we’re having lunch. Okay, we were making a lot of noise but we were always screaming and carrying on. We’re kids! It’s what we do. Mom never complained. She always fed us when we got loud. So, of course we’re gonna scream until we’re fed.

She always looked after us. Kept us warm, fed us, kept us clean. Protected us. I’m tellin’ ya, there was no warning at all that she was gonna go postal. I mean, she could have talked to us, told us she wasn’t happy with our behavior, maybe have a discussion about rules.

No! Instead, she just shoves us out of the nest without any warning and tells us to wave our wings and fly.

Are you fucking kidding me?! Shouldn’t there be a lesson of some sort? Maybe a discussion on the theory of flying?

I won’t lie. It was scary for a moment. The ground was coming at me pretty damned fast and I thought it was all going to end right then. But after some frantic flapping, I got it together and managed to fly. And I have to admit that it was pretty damned cool.

But as soon as I get back to the nest, I’m packing my shit and leaving. The woman is fucking psycho!

Wendigo

Today's muse: Verse Escape: Friday 55

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Wendigo

Pale skin shimmers like moonlight.

She cannot see. He has made sure of that. She wears nothing but silk ropes that hold her in place; hold her open.

But she hears. Hears his breathing. Hears the swish of his belt released from his pants.

She knows what is next. And she waits. And she wants.

Locker Room Talk

Locker Room Talk

There is an intimacy that comes with seeing another person naked.

I don’t mean the nakedness involving sex with a willing partner, or the nakedness of your feet resting in stirrups as your doctor pokes and prods.

I mean the nakedness of stripping down in the locker room at the gym, dripping with sweat, hair clinging to your forehead, with nothing but a minuscule cloth wrapped around your body.

And all the while, chatting away with the woman beside you who is also naked and sweaty and wearing what is laughably called a towel.

We started chatting about a year ago, when we both staggered into the change room, gasping for air, cursing our respective trainers.

At first, conversations were mostly about our evil trainers, but over the course of a year, we have discussed work, family and the other personal things that only women discuss. We have settled into a routine of sorts and although we only see each other at the gym, we talk every day and notice certain details.

Like yesterday.

“You left your hair down,” I said to her as I wiggled into panties.

She normally pulls it back into a smooth stubby tail. It looks good on her—puts the focus on her enormous dark eyes—but yesterday she left it down and used a flat iron.

She ran a hand over her bob. “I have something after work today, I won’t have time to go home and do my hair.”

I hooked my bra, stepped into my pants. “Job interview?” She’s not entirely happy with her job and I wondered if she was looking for something better.

“No.” She laughed as she buttoned her shirt. “I have a date.”

“Do tell!”

She grinned and told me about the guy she met on line. They have exchanged texts but are finally meeting face to face.

“You’re meeting in a public place, right?” I can’t help but worry. I’m old-school and can’t wrap my head around on-line dating.

“We’re meeting at a restaurant, listening to jazz music.”

“Do you want me to drop by and make sure he’s not a serial killer?”

She laughed. “I’ll be fine. We’re in a busy club. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

“You better.” I point a finger at her. “I want to hear all about it.”

“Promise.”

It’s a promise she hasn’t kept.

She wasn’t at the gym this morning. I don’t know how to find her. I don’t even know her name. The writer in me has concluded that one of two things has happened.

Date Guy turned out to be a serial killer and her dismembered body is scattered in an alleyway somewhere. Or, she didn’t want to show up in the same clothes and do the Walk-of-Shame at the gym.

As there was nothing in the news, it’s most likely she’s still in one piece.

But if she is in one piece, I want to hear why she wasn't at the gym. Is she still in bed? Is she alone? The woman owes me a story!

* * *

This is a true story, happened a few weeks ago. I saw her at the gym after the weekend. And to paraphrase Grace VanderWaal, I now know her name.

Eyes Closed

Today's muse: Verse Escape: Friday 55

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Eyes Closed

Eyes closed to hide sorrow or, perhaps, to withdraw from harsh reality.

No matter.

Either way, peace at last. Away from intrusive questions, awkward gazes. Pitiful murmurs.

The light is not so bright here. Rather, it surrounds in a candlelight glow, a warm embrace.

The gentle rocking soothes and comforts, wraps me in eternal sleep.