Thread 2
The stranger drifted into the bar completely oblivious to all that surrounded his presence. The yearning of succor is what drove all movement. To calm the beast that rose unaided in his bloodstream, that coiled around his lungs, and squeezed veins in torment. It screeched as only an unholy never ending thing could.
It needed, it needed....something...he was unable to supply. Something that was never dwelt upon. To stave off greater madness than these. It would all be better once alcohol was in hand. It would silence that great beast. As the stranger crashed into a seat; barely lifting his hooded head, his finger motioned for a drink. Not one, not two, but 3. A gravely voice that hinted at dehydration, and darker things whispered his order. The bartender went to speak up, but hesitated. The hunched shoulders, and the listless demeanor of the customer surrounded by patrons far livelier, than himself gave pause to any concern the bartender contemplated voicing. Something nudged at his senses buzzing w/ warnings of keeping quiet. PEACE, they seemed to flare...PEACE. The man backed up suddenly not so sure about what was considered a safe proximity, and busily went to work.
As soon as the lights reflected off of the chilled glass causing water to drip slowly down it's sides; a dusty hand shot out as quick as a viper, snatching and swallowing without a hint of preparation. The bartender gaze flickered to the side while noticing. A true drinker this one, he thought. The man was craving spirits. A thump on the wooden table signaled for another. The man began tapping on the edge w/ his fingertips dark, and encrusted w/ dirt. The hood concealed tense shoulders, and a far away look.
These people knew not who wandered in to dwell among them, and what wanted out. They knew nothing beyond themselves, the limited perceptions, and frivolous pursuits of those who knew no better.
To the stranger they were buzzing. A grand cacophony of background music. Their lives were like dragonflies. As they flittered about in some wayward way. Always distracted, fleeting, and never fully solid in their comprehension.
The next drink was something heavenly not unlike the first, but it didn't leave him feeling it'd be his last.
Alcohol burned down his throat inflaming his insides in a comfortable way. It drove the beast to silence.
The trading of one ache for another. Let the pain of headaches, nausea, and fog take away the voices, the never ending promise of pain.
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A man who wandered for many years, never quite remembered his name.
Drawn to the inexplicable, ominous, but lost all the same.
From pillar to post was he.
He couldn't recall when his journey began, but it's supposed he was born in the world's end. A dying memory fading from sight when he woke up one night.
Floundering in the freezing air, with nothing, but nothing except the earth for a bed.
On craggy shore, on a moonless night and not a single soul in sight.
Mercy as foreign as it was, visited, but only once in the form of a man, who gave him a job. Doing what came natural to one such as the...traveling, traveling, traveling.
The beast demanded offerings in blood. So sacrifices were made of those who scattered from the lawful ways of men. Death came hungry and remorseless. A vision in black poised with a silvery sheen. Blackened eyes and matted hair. The soulless one without a care. On those dark dark nights; while he lays in bed bone weary. He thinks he might be searching for something. Something....so pristine, that his filthy hands can't touch it, it resonates in the depths of nothingness, as the beast lingers, and dissipates.
The End.
(Oh, how I love my drabbles. lol)
The Secret
It began with anticipation and butterflies flickering within.
Embers of hope sparked. Shone off like fireflies in the dark.
The ever compassing romantic unfurled from her slumber, dreaming of softness and silk.
Of rich foods enjoyed by gleaming eyes. Of walks in old places. The memory of dark spaces .
The by and by of days gone by, startled touch, and moody scenes.
Chocolate kisses, blossoms, & giddiness...lovers sigh.
Writing in a trance.
What to say....
What to say....hmm...I've been awake for a fortnight.
My eyes are playing tricks on me.
This liquid is thick, but I think it can be refined.
Look at all the pretty words, that appear from my hand.
This is soothing, this is unique, it's like tapping a never ending well of possibilities. Each word births ten more and before I know it, I'm filling a page. To speak now would seem to break the spell, but I am writing to myself. Yet not to me. Funny, how that works. Tee hee.
Maybe I shouldn't put tee hee down...it sounds so cheap. The glee springs forth within me. Never never have I been able to describe so vividly what I see. Neither the pale moon or the sea of stars have been so beautiful to witness as they are tonight. The marvelous capacity of it all. To unblock this dam within me. It crumbles under the weight of genius. The leaking of a spring soon unleashes a mighty river. My eyes shine at the upheaval- oh eternal spirit! Gods above and below!
I can now see...These words spring forth w/ more purpose. Descriptions of a world so green. Valleys high and low. The suppleness of youth and the aching of age. Oh how we love, hate, and suffer so. The screeching in the dark, wide eyes, and piercing wings. The howling of beast at bay. Lying in shadows hunting us all, all fur and claws...grinding teeth. These are terrifying yet the sky is vast in it's glorious midnight blue. The cradle of Ishtar where she hides her jewels.
The echo of the sounds. The curvature and my heavy handedness. What signatures that go by and by. Imperfect precision. Little sparks that capture me in rapturous delight.
My hands are stained, but it makes no difference. I will continue; until my fingers burn. My hand goes numb from permanent sleep. I've been gifted w/ eternity and I must finish what I've begun.
What a fickle thing.
The very word divides us into corners, into nations, into groups as stubborn and torn asunder. Reactionaries to a cause and call for arms, but never stopping to ponder the what if...What is faith?
Does faith includes these promises of an old man in rags, or hermaphrodite angels in drag, or 99 virgins waiting w/ wanting arms.
All call, all yearning for you. Why? Why is this accepted, is it true?
Is it just me in my cynicism and need for something more. For something true. Faith is salve for the soul, but then why does mine still burn and yearn. I awake crying to the memory of a fluorescent babies haunting tune. Don't forget me it says...my inner child begging me not to let it die.
But does faith allow for such things...inner children and glimpses of borders far beyond our own. The grey matter between sleep and awake.
Or is it you w/ your complacent heaven and perfect view. Follow the light they say...follow, follow, follow. Be a happy sheep. Be fervent in your belief. We'll see our loved ones returned to us and prosper. Those unfortunate...may God have mercy on their souls.
As endearing and sweet, a part of me thinks...I'm always thinking...there is no such thing as the perfect view. Why can't we all see the light at the end of the tunnel. (or maybe the darkness in our own personal caves) Why can't we all be. Why all the hiding and prescribing. Let our imaginations guide us as we walk blind.
I imagined faith in a 100 different ways. Faith for the dying mother w/ lost children gone too soon. Faith for a country lying in ruin. Faith for the hungry yearning for bread. Faith for the gaping emptiness in man. Faith for all of our woes and happiness soon to end. Faith in walking away from home, hoping to return again. Faith for the soldier in arms, faith for our country and cause.
Faith myriad in its form. Older than all the songs ever chanted, words ever spoken, and dances done. A hope in a presence more powerful and merciful, than ourselves.
A impression dawns on me; the sunlight on my wintery morning. The blowing of shimmery frosty delight, that slowly freezes with a caress. The world speaking in it's paradoxical way. The faith of a new day. A rosy sheen that colors my daydreams and amplifies my thoughts.
I imagine closing my eyes and waking from sleeping.
Dreaming all things anew.
