My skin caught on fire at the sight of the creamy ivory of her lushness just begging to be sipped and savored with my tongue. Seductive heavy lashed eyes gazed at my inner soul, urging me to fall abjectly at her feet. Her breasts were like full moons shining luminously in white gold beams of enticement. Shapely legs begged me to travel to their molten source. Even her name was beautiful – Lorelei – named after a woman who was rumored to be a bewitcher of men as well a siren calling them to their deaths.

“Stay away from her.” My deceased mother’s voice instilled itself into my head, pounding in her insistence, “She is no good. She’ll hurt you.”

“Be quiet, mother,” I shouted, “go back to your netherworld and leave me alone.”

I knew in my last kernel of awareness that my mother was right. Although I was overcome by a malignant aura foretelling that Lorelei was evil incarnate, I chose to turn my back, ignoring my subconscious warnings. I argued with myself in heated words, rationalizing that I would just ride the magic carpet to wherever it took me, without worrying about the consequences. I promised myself that I would leave after sampling her wonders. My pulse quickened as little beads of sweat decorated my upper lip in moistness. “I am coming, Lorelei,” I crooned, as I floated toward her in ignorant bliss.

“You’ll be sorry. Don’t do it!” I paid no heed to my mother’s distant fading voice.

Lorelei was everything that had been promised to me as I lost myself in her

whirlwind of pure lust. She gave to me until I begged her to stop. “Please,”

I cajoled, “I can’t go on forever as you can. There has to be an ending.”

But Lorelei continued with her passionate ministrations of moist lips, probing tongue, and stroking hands leading me to her very center. Finally, I crashed into the rock wall that the Song of Lorelei had promised me in legends of the past. My heart could take it no longer and ceased its hammering life.

Once again, I heard the warning voice of my mother, “I warned you, son! Now you’ll be with me forever in the clouds. She was the death of you!”

Sisyphus had it good. Clever fellow, he knew he would! His own breath would to be sure to eventually give, but the eternal punishment for our human Hubris, by definition, must always live. Hence, was bequeath the task (as a pure matter of Fact) to those like us—equally propelled by this very same conceit, that subtle arrogance, our mental chic… King Sisyphus knew well of the perpetual problem of squaring the circle (a task writ vain, poised for defeat!)… And, too, of the critique of Time as not so much “Forever” but merely “Cyclical”… So he could be absolutely sure of passing his lot, which brings me to describing the burden we’ve currently got…

At the start Sisyphus was bestowed a steady sphere of toil, that Wisdom would slide back and remake but keep whole, pock marking it with doubt and slopping it with soil… Through the Ages heavy weights, like Confucius, Aristotle, Leonardo, Kant, Einstein and so forth, with the sweat of their brow up the hill the matter could still adequately roll, but progress in its stall has come to a devastating crawl…

The load now hardly moves up hill at all. The edges are nicked and cracked, reshaped sides have gone completely flat. And so we’ve pushed it thus far, and I in my feeble turn of mind, prod and heave and hoe, but this synthesis is now so stubborn and slow; oh, cursed is this block, it just won’t go…!

April, 29th 2035....

U.N. general assembly meeting.

Dr. Alice: Greetings to you all leaders of the world. Listen, this....that chemical formula worked and revolutionized the world. It's a powerful insoluble material which has brought a lot of good in the world. I would like to say that with further studies and research it will always be readily available for all time.

U.N. Secretary General: Ms. erm, Dr. Alice, we know that you have good intentions with your work. But, our main worry & concern is that we wouldn't want your formulae to fall into the wrong hands. Please try to understand. Yes, quite alright....it has changed the world. Thanks to your formula a lot of world issues like food security are being solved.

Dr. Alice: I understand Sir.....U.N.Secretary General. I'll see to it that the work conducted at The Orion Labs is placed on maximum tight security.

U.N.Security General: Thank you for your time Dr. Now that we've discussed our concerns, you're free to go back to your lab.

Dr. Alice: (bows) Thank you all for listening.

Later at Orion Labs.

Several of Dr. Alice's team hold a meeting to discuss the terms and policy of the Lab security.

Dr. Tom: Okay, scientific ladies and gentlemen. We're all aware of the U.N. Secretary General's concerns. With that said- we are now going to have to be on alert. Move with your Lab key at all times. It's a part of you. Don't hand it out to strangers, or even friends/ your family. Understood?

Mr. Spence: Sounds like a great plan. Looks like we'll just have to make sure that even our entire bodies are scanned.

Dr. Spence: It's really serious. No jokes Mr. Spence.

Mr. Spence: Fine. Alright. It's not like there's any person who wants to steal the formula anyway.

Meanwhile somewhere in a secure underground location:

Bingo: Look, guys. Ever since I lost the job at Orion Labs, all because I tried to claim that the formula was my own, I haven't been allowed back in any lab.

Star: Well, then make your own.

Bingo: I can't. That's why I need Dr. Alice.

Star: Don't you fret Bingo. We'll soon have her among our little, delightful group. (Laughs)

Bingo: Sheesh, calm down Star.

At Dr. Alice's appartement.

Dr. Alice walks places the key into her front door. The moment it clicks and opens, she's taken hostage by a masked guy. In a matter of seconds, her hands are tied and mouth sealed with a cloth. Her eyes are sealed as well with a dark cloth.

At Bingo's hideout/location.

Bingo: Hello, old friend.

Bingo greets Dr. Alice. She can't put a face to the sound of that voice. And yet it sounds familiar. Just as she tries to think, her eyes are freed from the cloth. She gasps as she's face to face with her ex-Husband.

Why on earth would he try to kidnap/hurt her? And he still loves to call her- friend. This was not how she planned on spending her night. All she wanted to do was watch the latest episodes of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in 4-D.

Dr. Alice: Oh, it's you. How could I have guessed?

Bingo: Darling. I'd never ever put you in danger.

Dr. Alice: Yeah? Really, like I'm supposed to believe you?

Bingo: All you have to do is help me come up with another great formula.

Dr. Alice: In your dreams.

Bingo: Listen. If you don't. Dr. Tom might have to face dealing with a security breach.

Dr. Alice: You wouldn't dare.

Bingo: Try me.

Star: Are you two going to do this all night?

Dr. Alice: Stay out of this minion.

Star: Minion?

Bingo: Don't mind what she says Star. This is how we talk and get things done. She loved Orion Labs too much. It's her baby.

Dr. Alice: You'll regret this Bingo.

Bingo: Come on Love. Do it for your lab.

Dr. Alice is placed in a small, dusty lab in the underground building.

She works on a new safe formula that changes the mind towards goodness. Hopefully it will work and she can head back home.

Her formula is ready and set. Bingo watches her every move. She places her chemical in a large glass tube and waits for the right moment to use it. Then when she stops working and moving Bingo walks in.

Bingo: Hey. Are you done working on the formula already?

Dr. Alice: Yes. Would you like to check it and see for yourself?

Bingo: Nope. That's ok.

Dr. Alice grabs her wooden stool and hits Bingo on the back with it. This knocks him out.

She carefully seals the test-tube and rushes towards the exit door. Then meets the minion. Star grabs her gun and aims for Dr. Alice's forehead.

Dr. Alice: Star. You don't have to do this.

Star: Don't think I'm letting you go so easily.

Dr. Alice raises her hands in the air. And then also let's go of her formula. It lands on the floor and the test-tube breaks. The chemical is released and rises into the air.

Star can't doesn't realize what it can do. The gas moves and fills her lungs. It doesn't affect Dr. Alice. Star drops her gun and starts dancing & clapping her hands.

Dr. Alice takes this chance and makes a run for it. She takes a picture of the building and sends it to one of her good friends who works for the F.B.I.

Moments later she's back home and luckily, her show is on a back to back episode special. She can catch up on the action.

He was so smokin’ hot

     fumes of inky smoke curling from full lips

     raspy voice sinking deep inside me

     tropical moist skin wafting desire

     uncoiling torrid lashes of lust

He was so smokin’ hot

     his flames lit up the creeping night

     as I dove into his sultry ocean

     sizzling promise as he drew his smoke

     tiny red dots of ash beckoning

He was so smokin’ hot

     muscular arms the color of mahogany

     on fire on the catwalk of my dreams

     flicking ashes onto my wanting skin

     as I capsized in the quicksand of need

He was so smokin’ hot

    my desire still steams below the surface

    but the smoke has scalded his body

    he struggles to draw breath

    scorched lips and tainted lungs

He was so smokin’ hot

     I help him with his oxygen tank

     wait as he labors to walk

     fill his prescriptions

     cover him with blankets

He was so smokin’ hot!

     The heat is still there

     in my fevered memories

     seared thoughts

     on fire with his pain.

Gristbite of bone-shard riddled teeth dripping with remnants of pleasurous carnal horrors mistaken for an apocalyptic synergy propagated

by

propaganda

spread thinly by full lips

teeth were sheathed,

concealed and poised

to lash out and latch on

Disrobed with nimble lips

unabashed nakedness insufficient

that slithering tongue insatiably seduces self mutilation;

shear my skin to sinewy

trembling honesty-

Epidermis sloughed willingly

Carapace surrendered,

rendered unrecognizable

Hold me together with your newsprint papier-mâché- shouting decade old headlines of glorified travesties written by neglectful incompetents

Tinted not with loving paints my faults lie in half truths and muted stories written in black and white and read all over

as newly unshackled limbs propel violently against the jagged edges of freedom's cage to peel away

smeared visages of pulpy fiction

Vestiges of the original hue

peek through

The morning starts as a holiday. Our jobs call and cancel until further notice. Yawning, we drink coffee in the dark of the living-room, immersed in the sound of rain drumming all around us. The night was sleepless and turbulent because of thunderclaps that shook our apartment and triggered car alarms.

It rains in buckets, in rivulets, in streams. 

I have never seen so much water in my life.

The streets are unfamiliar—everything vanishing under a churning river—and we watch, with bated breath, an ambitious car venture out of the apartment gates and drift to the middle of the road. We predict he’ll be swept downstream, into the backwaters of backroads.

The car struggles around the intersection and retreats back to the apartment.

We laugh. There is no danger yet.

Flashing lights in the gray swirling clouds. 

And still it rains. 

We watch the news on my phone—cars completely submerged, kayakers paddling down freeway rapids, the downtown area transformed into a swirling sea from which skyscrapers poke out the top of their heads.

We watch as a woman in a white vehicle steers around a security barrier and into a submerged underpass ocean. A construction worker runs after her car, his mouth open in a silent shout. The light of her cell phone waves frantically as the car sinks slowly into the dark waters.

The car disappears and so does the light.

Eight people drowned that day.

The unforgettable feeling…

Of a burning sensation

Behind your eyelids

All because she touches your face

After twenty years…

Twenty years…

You were ten years’ old 

And you were smitten with her as she with you

Then you disappeared

Never to be seen again

Broken hearts shattered dreams

You would write to her…

And she would respond

After a year the letters would cease

Her phone calls would stop too

Broken hearts shattered hopes

Five years had passed…

You dreamt of her from time to time

Dreamt of her touching you

Even that memory fades

Broken hearts shattered memories

Fifteen years since the day you left…

You don’t think of her

Then one day a stray thought enters your mind

A memory of her laughing, your heart flutters

Broken hearts shattered emotions

Twenty years later…

You return to your old town

Walking up your old block

Stopping, you hear a familiar laugh

Broken hearts shattered reality

Your eyes connect with hers

Do your orbs deceive you? No

Your breath catches in the back of your throat

She begins to walk towards you

Broken hearts shattered visions

She says your name, but you fail to speak

There is a burning sensation behind your eyes

A tear falls down your cheek

She smiles as she caresses your face

Mended hearts, tears of joy.

There are few changes on Prose that will directly affect Prosers unless they are rectified:

 There no longer listings for Popular Authors or Partners so those of us who are under these categories can no longer be found by other writers. If someone doesn't know the exact spelling of a username, they will not be able to find them, even under Search.

There is no longer a way to send a message to another Proser under their profile.  The only way I can communicate is to make a open comment on their work.  Sometimes, I want to thank them for something they have done or have a private conversation and I can no longer do so.

The Community Portal and Blog are empty.  Where did the posts go?

I hope these changes are just temporary while they are getting Prose the way they want it. But I think these things are necessary for the smooth running of the site.  I have also put these comments on an email but I have seen that other Prosers complain that they have not had their questions answered so I want to make sure I am heard.