He was only a little boy, a darling chubby thing with rosy cheeks that were meant to be squeezed. And how he hated his cheeks being squeezed. All he really wanted was to play with his train set, and imagine he was big and important, but no, here he was, being sat on some grubby old lady’s fat thighs being squuezed every ten minutes while she made faces that could scare a kid his size and age and probably give him nightmares. But no, he wasn’t scared, he was brave, like his Mama always told him to be. But this lady wasn’t like his Mama, and didn’t smell like her either. No the fragrant fruity smell her hair always had, but something musty and quite unbearable come to think of it.
She was his father’s oldest brother’s wife. And she had bad breath. If there was something that he couldn’t handle was smells that were bad and they always gave him a headache, especially when he pictured it doing things to his body. Those fumes going up his nasal canal and up to his brain making it go mushy. Yes, he did have an overactive imagination, but a boy his age, you’d expect it. He tried to get away from the old lady, but he knew that wriggling off him would cause her to latch on to him tighter, like a snake does to his prey. He had seen it on the Discovery Channel.
‘How do I get off of her and into my room, without upsetting anyone‘ he thought to himself.
‘Maybe I could start sneezing on her and excuse myself’, or maybe if I start crying. No, I must not cry, it will only upset Mama. Alright, I’ll try coughing and sneezing on her‘ he finally thought. ‘At-chooo, atchooo, atchooo, atchooo‘ and on went the sneezing fit and before you knew it, he was off her fat thighs and in his Mama’s arms as she checked his temperature.
‘What wrong, sweetheart?‘ she asked but I couldn’t say anything in case I my plan was foiled.
‘Mama I think something funny went up my nose, I can feel it Mama!‘ making sure I let the old Aunt hear what I was saying, just so she could hear all the grimy details of my nose and send her off in a spiraling out of control into a pit of mental imagery. ‘Mama, I’ll go up to my room and wash myself off, and lie in bed, if you don’t mind. I’m awfully sorry, Mama, but I don’t feel well enough to be here, something is making me sneeze… atchooo‘ he said while sneezing for effect.
‘Oh of course, my dear. Just run along, my darling‘.
As he retreated back to base camp, he could hear Mama relaying her apologies to their guests. he was out of harm way or rather the old Aunt’ grubby hands and distasteful odor and back in his room. ‘Aaah Room Sweet Room’ he thought, while he first went to wash his face with cold water and soap, just to get her skin off him. And then, soon enough he was back in his room with his train set, diving right in, and thinking about traversing the land on a fast train jetting of to every corner of the land. While he daydreamed, he stepped right into nap and was fast asleep with his dreams of trains and travels.
I don’t really know why I wrote this. I decided I needed to write more, at least something small everyday. And this is what my fingers were told to type. Oh brain, you silly old fool.
Part I of Kinship of Spirit
The door bell rang. Miths made her way through her apartment’s living area, towards the door, and looked through the peep hole. She saw a familiar head of hair, looking downwards. The curls were slightly visible, she knew who that was. Christy.
She unbolted the door, opened it and held it slighty ajar with her hand on the inside knob. Christy raised her head, at the suddenness of the door opening. She stood there, in her jeans, button down shirt, heels and the over-sized handbag she lugged around with her. She looked as if she’d gotten there in a hurry. She had forgotten to apply her coat of lip gloss, something she always does, though she’d forgotten it now. Miths slowly looked at her watch. It was past 1 o’clock. “Wasn’t she supposed to be at work?”, she thought.
This I dedicate to The Unsilent. He continues to be one hell of a great friend and has touched my life in many ways. This is for you.
Droplets of water fell heavier onto the earth from the clouds above. The more it rained the more the night grew darker, longer and more silent. They made their way home, to her house in the downpour. Sadly, the rain didn’t aid her in her state of confusion and his of silence. There, they sat, in their predefined places of seating, she on the left, and he on the right. Her hands lay on her lap and while his right hand was on the wheel and the other had made its permanent abode for the journey on the gear shift. He always preferred it that way, and she didn’t mind it. She had always found his form of driving exciting, there was something quite enthralling about it.
I was lucky enough to meet a really great friend, who in the last couple of months has been there constantly for me and been an absolute darling. I hope I can be as great a friend to you as you are to me.
Thanks Dili, for everything, along with helping me with this when I needed advice.
She lay alone, on her sofa, in anxiety. Her mind was absorbed with a million things, a million possibilities, a million thoughts. Ravaging all the happiness of her solace, the devil was playing tricks on her and finally she succumbed to her evil thoughts. She had tried so hard in the time that had elapsed, to become what they perceived her to be. Normal, thoughtful and and smile away, like she always had been, before the world turn black again. But with recent events, that had become too hard, too cumbersome. She had given in to the evil that was spreading in her, the darkness that made her desolate. Depression had caught on, and she let go, completely. With all these transformations, what she missed was her smile and the way her eyes twinkled. The last month had been tough, tougher than her childhood. Her childhood had taught her many things, one was the art of deception, and how not to let her feelings show to the world. But then she faltered, to a man she believed she loved.
Distraught, disheartened and in disbelief, her thoughts whiz around her mind, her brain unable to process them, and all she feels are fragments, bits and pieces of what her mind let through to her subconscious. She wants to tear her hair off, her heart out and feel the pain her mind was deaming her to feel. But at the same time, her heart gives way to melancholic thoughts of sadness and fear and loneliness. Her mind is beyond reasoning, inconsolable, as she lays in utter helplessness. Her body slackens wanting to relax, yet she is unable to, though it is the only thing she wants to do and she forces herself to do. She wants to badly, to stop shaking, to stop feeling like she was trodden on like a cockroach. Above all she wants to stop hurting.
Continued from Curtains dancing to the Breeze
As she moaned, biting her lower lip harder to keep her from screaming out her need to be touched. She bit until the pain grew numb and her lip was swollen. With her downcast lids, her eyes were now watching his every move. Peering through the corners, she could see him slightly moving further down, teasing the lacy piece of lingerie, tweaking the strap with his teeth, attempting to lower it and let it fall over her shoulder. With a final tug, the material did just so, it fell like a petal parting a rose, lazily flowing down her silky shoulder to meet halfway from her arm. She felt it loosen and attempted to put the strap in its rightful order, but he would not have it her way.
Continued from Black Sheets and The Sea
He had walked away into the darkness, but he hadn’t walked far. Standing close to the curtains, looking out into the night, the moonlight framed his every move. She wondered where his thoughts lay, whether he was here in this very room or miles away, lost in thought. Slowly she gathered the black silk sheets and raised her legs over the bed and let her toes touch the floor. She slowly ascended off the bed, her curls lapping on her back, and the sheets making soft sounds as she slowly tiptoed towards him. He didn’t hear approach him. She stopped moving towards him, and watched him for a second, the moonlight glistening in his eyes. Then she moved further, her hand touching his shoulder, beckoning him to turn towards her.
He watched her in silence, as she made her way through the house, in and out, running around, playing with all the happiness of a little girl. She chased after the dogs and cats and the little white butterflies that were whizzing in and out of the tree stems. He watched with a gleam that noone saw, or understood. He loved her true, but in another sense all together. A demon waiting to be unleashed, he was everything that mothers have feared for eons.
She was only a child when she was thrust into a world she never knew of. Always believing she was a product of love and nurturing, her tiny fingers knew not what was happening all around her. Tears she associated with bleeding, but she had no wounds to show, they would never show. Her soul was broken, she did not know. Fighting to keep the tears away, her stubborn pose chose another path, she gave into the moment, and a stroke was what she heard next, over and over again.
The waves resounded off the walls, in a darkened room. A lonely house, filled with nothing but darkness, but held the light of the candles that danced upon the walls of one sole room, a room where the curtains flirted with the slight breeze that brought in the sound of the nearby sea.
As she watched him from afar, she could only think about how those strong and beautiful hands held her tight, how the sheer touch sent sensations through her body and resting themselves in the corners of her body.
She smiled to herself as she saw him furrow his brows in deep concentration as he talked on the phone, the way he rested his hands on his hips when in annoyance only to relieve them instantaneously in a gesture similiar to that of trying to prove something of credibility to the invisible person in front of him as he whispered audibly about that seemed to have made him furious with rage and frustration.
As he hung up on the caller, he rudely made his way through the people across the hall towards her. While she watched his approaching figure, she let her fingers run through her hair, and went back to the books that lay in front of her.
You might ponder on the fact that life is made out of swans and butterflies, but in true realism, it is nothing but the emotions brought onto the world through the heart and the cravings of a body, it’s mind and at times it’s soul.
As you attempt to grasp the walls as you feel your body tremble against a slight tremor, you might feel the ground shake when you are intoxicated with pure orgasmic emotions, toppling to unfold all your senses and let it flow through you, ending the debacle with a sharp intake of breath and feeling of bedazzlement and utter satisfaction.