Friday, January 14, 2011

filling the spaces inbetween

(the beginning)

he's more than a head taller than i am. he walks next to me, his hands clasped behind his back. sometimes he wears a hat. sometimes his clothing is specific, other times not. he wears slim glasses. his hair is long and straw-coloured.

we walk close on the beach. we leave no footprints. the only sound i can recall (besides his voice) is the lull of the waves and the occasional bird (sometimes it is silent. he doesn't always speak). there is nothing but beach; nearly sunset or rise. no apparent beginning or end to the sand. we walk. we talk. our pace is easy. i wear my nightgown (it hits right below my knee).

i find myself sitting cross-legged on the white bed with white pillows with the window to the left (i sit on the foot of the bed). he has the book on his lap. he is telling me his story. i listen. i lean forward to see if there is any photographs.

the pages are blank.

each night i dream this dream, he tells me the same story, each night i lean forward to notice the pages contain no words.

after he finishes his story, there is a hand-drawn picture of a generic man with a heart drawn over his torso. once or twice i ask him if he drew that. he says no.

note: the first time i had this dream i was about 5 or 6 years old. i had it every single night for many years. the foundation of the dream was the same, we walked, we talked. he would leave me with a puzzle of some sort. i would return with the puzzles answer & he no-longer cared to talk about it. when i was 8, i began seeing a psychiatrist. when i mentioned the dreams, he told me to try to "write" a new ending by thinking of different outcomes. once i thought i should have a writing utensil to write in the book. i tucked a crayon or a marker in my nightgown's pocket. that night, the straw-haired man didn't tell me his story.

around the time i hit puberty, the dreams paused.

they returned in 1995.

they paused again in 2000. other nastiness manifested itself in its place.

this past autumn, he returned... only the sand disappeared. we began to spar, the straw-coloured hair man & myself.


Monday, January 3, 2011

:..click.
she sighed deeply.
"i didn't know it wasn't loaded". he jumps off of her in a huff. she takes this opportunity to hit him over the head with her platform shoe. he barely recognised she was fighting back.

she grabbed her bag and ran for the door. she could hear him muttering to himself. the door was still open from when he lured her in (when she got the steps and refused to come in, he just dragged her by her hair).

the blood was flooding her ability to think. she ran on the sidewalk, shoeless (her dress was in one piece, more or less).

the muttering got louder as she turned the corner. :::::bang!





he moved her head with his foot. he smiled.
"this one was loaded", he whispered to her as he brushed her hair out of her face.

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Thursday, November 25, 2010

the concrete below her feet was crumbling. nothing felt right. the air was heavy, the moon hung low. the building's outside lights were on, all the windows were dark.
the snow fell soft, glittery. she reduced herself into someone smaller. closing her eyes, she sat on his pillow. carefully, wiping his bed-tangled hair from his face. "if i could make you right again…". tiny kisses on his cheekbone. one last glance.

it was time to spin around in the snow again.

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Monday, November 22, 2010

the white room was randomly polka-dotted with dark. he stood in front of her, holding her warm heart. her screams were still in his ears.

now he would always have her heart.

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Sunday, November 21, 2010

i sat quite tall in the over-sized armchair. the floor was silent. i opened the book and cleared my throat:

"when i complete a chapter i will pause for commentary"

nods all around. i glanced at their faces, not taking in any of them.

i read for my audience, they pretended to care as well as i did. totally ludicrous, i thought repeatedly.

"... i hadn't imagined he would do the same as the others because he stayed a part of my life for so long. i never created an aspect of his personality until i felt him slipping away from me. i gave him the power to harm me. i knew -"

"obviously, you know nothing".

i didn't need to look up to know who was interrupting me.

"commentary is at the end of the chapter, sir"

"sir?" he laughed (that throaty laugh). "kiddo, you need to get off that chair and start a new chapter. you're starting to bore me".

"you?!" i stood up, fists curled. "think i did all of this for you?" (seethe, spit, seethe)

"yes. i'm sure you have. i'm flattered. now open the book to the end and start a new chapter. you'll thank me for it later".

"i hate you" (said with a bit more ?)

"it's expected. you're heartbroken at my expense again. you need to hate me to move on. just don't."

he wrapped his arms around my shoulders. i felt so small. he whispered in my ear (felt elsewhere), "it'll happen again, soon".

i held him so tight, my hands lost feeling.

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Saturday, November 20, 2010

"i'm sorry" (said without whimpering) she sat on the floor, her skirts a tumble. she twisted her cold hands in her lap. she didn't dare to make eye contact. the tears were warm behind her eyes but she couldn't allow them to fall. she waited for his judgement - she knew it would be fair no matter how sever.

breathing hurt. all sense of time dissipated. she wondered if she should repeat herself. she thought not.

he moved a step closer to her. she glanced up to his knees. she wanted to throw herself at his feet. begging, was beneath her (no matter how much she longed to touch him). he sighed.

"why won't you look at me? am i that ugly?"

she thought he sounded defeated. this was not the conversation she thought they would be having. where is his strength, she thought? where is the man she feared (and adored)?

"you've never requested me to treat you so plainly". spoken soft.

another sigh.

"you love me?"

"perhaps."

"yet you know nothing about me. even after all of these years."

he sat cross-legged in front of her. his long, pale fingers touched her chin. his skin was warm. she melted into his touch.

don't look at him! her voice screamed (lodged in her head). everything will change if you do. think fondly of him, scribble in your notes about him but know, you both will lose more than you will gain!

she knew this was truth. but, oh. his skin smelled like long nights (and cinnamon?).

racing heart help me!

when she met his eyes


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Friday, November 19, 2010

aftermath v.1

the ground is always colder

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