(it's not a story, not by any stretch of the imagination. It was, however, a writing exercise, and since I have nothing else to offer, here it is)
Shattered dreams, like yesteryears, embedded in my heart,
Mechanical, deniable, you tear my soul apart,
And bury all the broken pieces in the flow of time.
Awake the dawn, awake the dusk, but I shall not arise,
You've taken all I had to give and thrown it to the skies,
My actions now are resolute, my tongue speaks not in rhyme.
Smoke curls above my flaming soul,
heartbroken and no longer whole.
You called it love, and so I fell for promises and rings,
cheap champagne, hotel rooms, and other earthly things,
And now I burn with fires from your earthly hell,
I waited for you buy the dock with promise in my ear,
They warned me ‘bout the pain, but I waited for you here,
Who knew I’d fall for one I thought I knew so well.
Smoke curls above my flaming soul,
Heartbroken and no longer whole.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Men and Horses part one: the arrival
(Yes, another part one- it's been a hectic week and I've been sick, so this is all I've got.)
She glanced at herself in the mirror framed in heavy oval oak . Pale grey eyes under a furrowed brow made her look older than she really was, not that anyone would call her young. Not any more. Life had etched lines across the canvas of her face. Time had softened her body, beautiful calves melting under the stresses of her world. Maybe that’s why she was here. Maybe that was the reason she had answered the add in the help section. “Looking for a good woman to help on ranch,” it read, “Must be able to handle men and horses.”
Horses would be no problem, but men? She always fell prey to their emotional blackmail, tried hard to become the image of the goddess they shaped in their minds. She had died her hair for a doctor in Windsor, bright crimson, as was the style at the time. She thought it looked horrible against her pale skin. Apparently he agreed. Then there had been the police officer in London. She had dropped fifty pounds for him, but apparently that wasn’t enough. He left for a beautiful blonde bombshell in her twenties with the brain, and equivalent IQ, of a houseplant. And there was one man, one monestrous man, had told that she should get plastic surgery. had she? No. Those scars across her chest were formed by dull knives and flaring tempers.
“Ms. Isabelle, your ride is here.” She took one last look in the mirror, and wished, as she always did, that her eyes where blue.
............................................................................................................................................................
The ranch had always been his home. This vast expanse on land that framed the prairie sky, golden hills rolling down into the abandoned school yard and gas station, it was all his. Had always been all his. But he was lonely. It had been eons since he had seen anyone beyond Alice and Joe, his farmhands, and the endless faces of strangers who stopped at the gas station, hoping to get a glimpse of the wild horses he protected. The wild horses that he loved.
Why had he put the add in the paper? He wasn’t sure. I might have had something to do with the dreams he’d been having of Marie. Had it really been twenty years since they took her away? It still hurt, as though every breath he took opened the wound anew.
“Mitch, she’s almost here. Do you want me to set out the fine china?” it was Alice, meddling like she always did. If it hadn’t been for Mitchel’s kindness, her and her husband would have starved their first year in Haven. That was why they continued to work for him, even after everyone else had left. He smiled at the older woman, who smiled back at him with an impish grin spread across her wrinkled face. Years working under a hot sun had tanned her hide like leather, but the spark of youth still sparkled in sky blue eyes.
Mitch’s only answer was a grunt.
“I’ll go ahead and set out the fine china.” The older woman gently removed the plates, bone white and rimmed in gold, from the top shelf of the old china cabinet. As she pulled the antique dishes from their place, her elbow caught the corner of a dusty picture frame. The small trinket wobbled back and forth as Mitch walked in with the roast.
“Be careful!” he barked nervously at Alice, wrinkling at the fine lines of worry on his forhead.
“Sorry, sir. It was an accident. I’ll be more careful from now on,”
The old cowboy let out a sigh and placed the roast carefully on the high oak table, worn smooth with years of use. “It’s not your fault, Alice. It really should be put in a safer place.” Placing a hand on his lower back he stretched, bones creaking with the effort. “It is, after all, the only picture I have of my darlin’. It belongs somewhere special.” He picked the frame up, blew the dust off it, and headed towards his room.
He reemerged a short time later sans picture. A middle aged woman sat at the table, her dark hair lace with streaks of grey. Her jeans and sweater were disheveled and she looked travel-weary. Mitch shot Alice a quizzical look- it wasn’t like his friend to let strangers into the house. “Miss Isabelle?”
She glanced at herself in the mirror framed in heavy oval oak . Pale grey eyes under a furrowed brow made her look older than she really was, not that anyone would call her young. Not any more. Life had etched lines across the canvas of her face. Time had softened her body, beautiful calves melting under the stresses of her world. Maybe that’s why she was here. Maybe that was the reason she had answered the add in the help section. “Looking for a good woman to help on ranch,” it read, “Must be able to handle men and horses.”
Horses would be no problem, but men? She always fell prey to their emotional blackmail, tried hard to become the image of the goddess they shaped in their minds. She had died her hair for a doctor in Windsor, bright crimson, as was the style at the time. She thought it looked horrible against her pale skin. Apparently he agreed. Then there had been the police officer in London. She had dropped fifty pounds for him, but apparently that wasn’t enough. He left for a beautiful blonde bombshell in her twenties with the brain, and equivalent IQ, of a houseplant. And there was one man, one monestrous man, had told that she should get plastic surgery. had she? No. Those scars across her chest were formed by dull knives and flaring tempers.
“Ms. Isabelle, your ride is here.” She took one last look in the mirror, and wished, as she always did, that her eyes where blue.
............................................................................................................................................................
The ranch had always been his home. This vast expanse on land that framed the prairie sky, golden hills rolling down into the abandoned school yard and gas station, it was all his. Had always been all his. But he was lonely. It had been eons since he had seen anyone beyond Alice and Joe, his farmhands, and the endless faces of strangers who stopped at the gas station, hoping to get a glimpse of the wild horses he protected. The wild horses that he loved.
Why had he put the add in the paper? He wasn’t sure. I might have had something to do with the dreams he’d been having of Marie. Had it really been twenty years since they took her away? It still hurt, as though every breath he took opened the wound anew.
“Mitch, she’s almost here. Do you want me to set out the fine china?” it was Alice, meddling like she always did. If it hadn’t been for Mitchel’s kindness, her and her husband would have starved their first year in Haven. That was why they continued to work for him, even after everyone else had left. He smiled at the older woman, who smiled back at him with an impish grin spread across her wrinkled face. Years working under a hot sun had tanned her hide like leather, but the spark of youth still sparkled in sky blue eyes.
Mitch’s only answer was a grunt.
“I’ll go ahead and set out the fine china.” The older woman gently removed the plates, bone white and rimmed in gold, from the top shelf of the old china cabinet. As she pulled the antique dishes from their place, her elbow caught the corner of a dusty picture frame. The small trinket wobbled back and forth as Mitch walked in with the roast.
“Be careful!” he barked nervously at Alice, wrinkling at the fine lines of worry on his forhead.
“Sorry, sir. It was an accident. I’ll be more careful from now on,”
The old cowboy let out a sigh and placed the roast carefully on the high oak table, worn smooth with years of use. “It’s not your fault, Alice. It really should be put in a safer place.” Placing a hand on his lower back he stretched, bones creaking with the effort. “It is, after all, the only picture I have of my darlin’. It belongs somewhere special.” He picked the frame up, blew the dust off it, and headed towards his room.
He reemerged a short time later sans picture. A middle aged woman sat at the table, her dark hair lace with streaks of grey. Her jeans and sweater were disheveled and she looked travel-weary. Mitch shot Alice a quizzical look- it wasn’t like his friend to let strangers into the house. “Miss Isabelle?”
Sunday, January 13, 2008
The Bus Stop: part 1
((part 2 will posted at a later date- my writing computer crashed and there's been some changes at work so this is the best I could come up with for the moment. Sorry =())
“Somebody listen to me, I’ve got a story!” She was a precocious thing, barely six and brave as a lion as she huffed around the bus stop, pulling on coat sleeves and trying to get someone to pay attention to her. “Please,” she tugged the plaid sleeve of a gaunt elderly gentleman, “it’s really important.”
The old man looked down at her, squinting his eyes to bring the mess of blue fabric and strawberry hair into focus. “Tell me all about it,” he smiled, bending down, though it obviously caused him pain to do so, “I’m sure it’s a very interesting story.”
The young child smiled, pleased with the results, and began chattering away. “ Mom was taking me to Becky’s to play outside, and the car stopped, and mom said some bad words, then a funny looking man honked at mom and she said some more bad words, and then she told me to never say those words to anyone, especially not her, and then we rode in a different car to Becky’s, and I got to play in the sandbox, and Becky threw a rock at me, and look,” she pointed out a large welt on her left temple, “it left a mark and mom said I’m not allowed to play with Becky anymore and then we stopped for ice-cream and I had vanilla and mom had some weird kind with nuts in it, and then the car broke down again and then we came to the bus stop,” she paused, took a breath, and leaned in close to the elder’s ear, “and then the pink men showed up.”
“Somebody listen to me, I’ve got a story!” She was a precocious thing, barely six and brave as a lion as she huffed around the bus stop, pulling on coat sleeves and trying to get someone to pay attention to her. “Please,” she tugged the plaid sleeve of a gaunt elderly gentleman, “it’s really important.”
The old man looked down at her, squinting his eyes to bring the mess of blue fabric and strawberry hair into focus. “Tell me all about it,” he smiled, bending down, though it obviously caused him pain to do so, “I’m sure it’s a very interesting story.”
The young child smiled, pleased with the results, and began chattering away. “ Mom was taking me to Becky’s to play outside, and the car stopped, and mom said some bad words, then a funny looking man honked at mom and she said some more bad words, and then she told me to never say those words to anyone, especially not her, and then we rode in a different car to Becky’s, and I got to play in the sandbox, and Becky threw a rock at me, and look,” she pointed out a large welt on her left temple, “it left a mark and mom said I’m not allowed to play with Becky anymore and then we stopped for ice-cream and I had vanilla and mom had some weird kind with nuts in it, and then the car broke down again and then we came to the bus stop,” she paused, took a breath, and leaned in close to the elder’s ear, “and then the pink men showed up.”
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Lillith and the Doctor
Beyond this room, Lillith mused, is nothing. She was lying spread eagle on her bed, meditating on the pointlessness of her very existence, trying to regain contact with the Great All. How long had she been a prisoner in this place- days, weeks, years? Without the rising and setting of the sun, without a calander to mark the days time had slipped through her fingers like water through a sieve. And then there were the experiments.
Looking back on past events it was her own fault she was here. She was an extrovert by nature, and was not shy about her abilities- the crowd called to her and she answered with a shout. Come see the living flame, the poster said, and they had. She must have caught the attention of some authority; one day after the show was done she was approached by a woman in formal wear, asking if she had a minute. The woman said she was from the government, and they were looking for special people, just like Lillith, to help them with several experiments. It’s a matter of national security, the woman explained. How could she refuse? The next day she packed her meager belongings into a small orange leather suitcase, dropped her cat off at her parents’, and drove across town to a government facility, where she was promptly drugged and shipped off to here, wherever here was.
A burning sensation began creeping up Lillith’s arm. She sighed and shifted off the bed, reaching instinctively for a glass of water. Whatever was in that shot it seemed to have only frozen her powers, not removed them completely. That was a small comfort for a person held against her will. She looked into the mirror propped up against a wall beside the broken tv and looked away again- her hair had grown several inches since her arrival and stuck out at untidy angles, like sticks caught in mud. The worst, she thought, doing her best not to peer into the glass, were her eyes. She had the look of a prisoner or a cornered animal. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could be here before she broke.
A short rotund man in a pristine labcoat entered her room through the only door, and as soon as he was through it closed with a click behind him and disappeared seamlessly into the wall behind him. “Lillith? My name is Dr. Higgans. Do you remember me?” Remember him- how could she forget? It was he who had given her the first injection, that night she came to, strapped to a surgical table like a madman or a cadaver. Above her there was a blue light that made her eyes water if she looked directly at it, and around her there was only darkness. The only thing she could see was a sideways profile of the doctor as her slipped a needle into her arm: the hooked nose, the gold-framed glasses, a few wispy silver hairs that clung stubbornly to his balding scalp. In eyes was a strange malice, born of fear and greed. He enjoyed, she was sure, watching her convulse as her body tried it’s best to drive out the strange pathogen. She wasn’t sure what was in the concoction they shot into her veins but it felt as though every cell in her body was being ripped apart.
“I remember you, Doctor. Tell me, on what charges am I being held?”
Doctor Higgans looked taken aback. “What a preposterous question. You aren’t being held on any charges.”
“Then why am I here? I’ve never committed a crime. I haven’t hurt anybody, or anything. I was always very careful about what I lit on fire, and when. Hell, I didn’t even break a bylaw. This is unconstitutional.”Lillith turned away cradled her glass in one hand to control her anger.
“You are here, Lillith,” Doctor Higgans took off his glasses and polished them on his lab coat, “because this is the best place for you to be, for everyone’s sake.”
“Do you really believe that, Doctor, or are just spouting rhetoric to quell your screaming morels?” She raised her face and met his eyes defiantly, “If I was your daughter, would this still be the best place for me to be?”
“Yes!” Higgans shouted, “it would be. Now I’m sending a medical team to pick you up in thirty minutes to bring you to the lab.” With those final words he stormed out of the room.
“That’s right!” Lillith hurled her glass at the door, “run, you slimy bastard! You can’t keep me in here forever!” Shards flew into the air as the glass struck the wall. The burning sensation had returned to her arm as was beginning to spread through her whole body and she was filled with the sudden desire to cut away the offending flesh. Glass sparkled in the light. One shard, through luck, was big enough to hold in one hand, and it’s edge had cleaved away perfectly, leaving it sharp as the blade of a knife. Strange thoughts began to fill her head, dark thoughts, bloody thoughts. She held the shard to the light and then held it to her wrist as a sick curiosity. What would it be like, she wondered, to die? Picking up the phone beside the bed she dialed Doctor Higgans and waited until she heard his mellow voice. “Doctor Higgans,” she whispered softly, “I’ve found a way out here, and you can’t stop me.” The good doctor let out and exclamation and Lillith giggled maniacally and let the receiver drop to the bed. Then she waited.
She didn’t have to wait long. “Code Red Room 14. I repeat, Code red Room 14. All security personal to room 14.”
Good, she thought, an audience. Everything was falling into place. She turned to face the door and waited for Higgans to barge his way through. She was, after all, his patient. If anything happened to her it would be his pocketbook that suffered, and he was, she guessed, a man with shishi tastes. She was proven right twenty-three seconds later when the doctor bustled through the door, followed by a slew of army personal carrying rifles. In the good doctors hand there was a syringe. “Calm down,” Higgans crept towards her, “put down the glass. You don’t really want to hurt yourself, do you?” Closer and closer he came, watching the glass very carefully, waiting until he was nearly on top of her to strike her with the needle.
Doctor Higgans had never been informed that Lillith was a blackbelt in several different martial arts. In the blink of an eye she was up from the bed with her arm around Doctor Higgans’ throat, glass nicking the skin just above his jugular. He gaped in surprise. “Now, Doctor, I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement. I only want two things: my powers returned to me and safe passage out here. Rest assured I will not hesitate to kill you if my demands are not met.”
“What you ask is impossible,” Higgans let out a cold laugh, “I would never give you back your powers, you freak. And as for safe passage, well, you’ve been injected with nanites that will turn you to dust the minute you step outside this compound. You, Lillith are trapped, helpless as a kitten. So why don’t you put down the glass and we can talk about this like civilized people?”
“Because if am trapped here, then my life, and your life, is forfeit. Good-bye, Doctor.” She sliced the shard across his neck. The needle fell out of his lifeless hands and he tumbled forward. Blood spread from beneath him in a rose pattern. Seconds later she felt pain blossom in her chest, and looked down to see she was fatally wounded. A smile spread across her face, she raised her arms towards the heavens, and then she burned. Fire poured off her and spread quickly across the small room. The guards panicked and fled. Lillith looked up and saw, for the first time in ages, blue sky. She had done it. She had broken free.
Looking back on past events it was her own fault she was here. She was an extrovert by nature, and was not shy about her abilities- the crowd called to her and she answered with a shout. Come see the living flame, the poster said, and they had. She must have caught the attention of some authority; one day after the show was done she was approached by a woman in formal wear, asking if she had a minute. The woman said she was from the government, and they were looking for special people, just like Lillith, to help them with several experiments. It’s a matter of national security, the woman explained. How could she refuse? The next day she packed her meager belongings into a small orange leather suitcase, dropped her cat off at her parents’, and drove across town to a government facility, where she was promptly drugged and shipped off to here, wherever here was.
A burning sensation began creeping up Lillith’s arm. She sighed and shifted off the bed, reaching instinctively for a glass of water. Whatever was in that shot it seemed to have only frozen her powers, not removed them completely. That was a small comfort for a person held against her will. She looked into the mirror propped up against a wall beside the broken tv and looked away again- her hair had grown several inches since her arrival and stuck out at untidy angles, like sticks caught in mud. The worst, she thought, doing her best not to peer into the glass, were her eyes. She had the look of a prisoner or a cornered animal. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could be here before she broke.
A short rotund man in a pristine labcoat entered her room through the only door, and as soon as he was through it closed with a click behind him and disappeared seamlessly into the wall behind him. “Lillith? My name is Dr. Higgans. Do you remember me?” Remember him- how could she forget? It was he who had given her the first injection, that night she came to, strapped to a surgical table like a madman or a cadaver. Above her there was a blue light that made her eyes water if she looked directly at it, and around her there was only darkness. The only thing she could see was a sideways profile of the doctor as her slipped a needle into her arm: the hooked nose, the gold-framed glasses, a few wispy silver hairs that clung stubbornly to his balding scalp. In eyes was a strange malice, born of fear and greed. He enjoyed, she was sure, watching her convulse as her body tried it’s best to drive out the strange pathogen. She wasn’t sure what was in the concoction they shot into her veins but it felt as though every cell in her body was being ripped apart.
“I remember you, Doctor. Tell me, on what charges am I being held?”
Doctor Higgans looked taken aback. “What a preposterous question. You aren’t being held on any charges.”
“Then why am I here? I’ve never committed a crime. I haven’t hurt anybody, or anything. I was always very careful about what I lit on fire, and when. Hell, I didn’t even break a bylaw. This is unconstitutional.”Lillith turned away cradled her glass in one hand to control her anger.
“You are here, Lillith,” Doctor Higgans took off his glasses and polished them on his lab coat, “because this is the best place for you to be, for everyone’s sake.”
“Do you really believe that, Doctor, or are just spouting rhetoric to quell your screaming morels?” She raised her face and met his eyes defiantly, “If I was your daughter, would this still be the best place for me to be?”
“Yes!” Higgans shouted, “it would be. Now I’m sending a medical team to pick you up in thirty minutes to bring you to the lab.” With those final words he stormed out of the room.
“That’s right!” Lillith hurled her glass at the door, “run, you slimy bastard! You can’t keep me in here forever!” Shards flew into the air as the glass struck the wall. The burning sensation had returned to her arm as was beginning to spread through her whole body and she was filled with the sudden desire to cut away the offending flesh. Glass sparkled in the light. One shard, through luck, was big enough to hold in one hand, and it’s edge had cleaved away perfectly, leaving it sharp as the blade of a knife. Strange thoughts began to fill her head, dark thoughts, bloody thoughts. She held the shard to the light and then held it to her wrist as a sick curiosity. What would it be like, she wondered, to die? Picking up the phone beside the bed she dialed Doctor Higgans and waited until she heard his mellow voice. “Doctor Higgans,” she whispered softly, “I’ve found a way out here, and you can’t stop me.” The good doctor let out and exclamation and Lillith giggled maniacally and let the receiver drop to the bed. Then she waited.
She didn’t have to wait long. “Code Red Room 14. I repeat, Code red Room 14. All security personal to room 14.”
Good, she thought, an audience. Everything was falling into place. She turned to face the door and waited for Higgans to barge his way through. She was, after all, his patient. If anything happened to her it would be his pocketbook that suffered, and he was, she guessed, a man with shishi tastes. She was proven right twenty-three seconds later when the doctor bustled through the door, followed by a slew of army personal carrying rifles. In the good doctors hand there was a syringe. “Calm down,” Higgans crept towards her, “put down the glass. You don’t really want to hurt yourself, do you?” Closer and closer he came, watching the glass very carefully, waiting until he was nearly on top of her to strike her with the needle.
Doctor Higgans had never been informed that Lillith was a blackbelt in several different martial arts. In the blink of an eye she was up from the bed with her arm around Doctor Higgans’ throat, glass nicking the skin just above his jugular. He gaped in surprise. “Now, Doctor, I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement. I only want two things: my powers returned to me and safe passage out here. Rest assured I will not hesitate to kill you if my demands are not met.”
“What you ask is impossible,” Higgans let out a cold laugh, “I would never give you back your powers, you freak. And as for safe passage, well, you’ve been injected with nanites that will turn you to dust the minute you step outside this compound. You, Lillith are trapped, helpless as a kitten. So why don’t you put down the glass and we can talk about this like civilized people?”
“Because if am trapped here, then my life, and your life, is forfeit. Good-bye, Doctor.” She sliced the shard across his neck. The needle fell out of his lifeless hands and he tumbled forward. Blood spread from beneath him in a rose pattern. Seconds later she felt pain blossom in her chest, and looked down to see she was fatally wounded. A smile spread across her face, she raised her arms towards the heavens, and then she burned. Fire poured off her and spread quickly across the small room. The guards panicked and fled. Lillith looked up and saw, for the first time in ages, blue sky. She had done it. She had broken free.
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