There’s a window open to the night sky. I’m surprised to see it naked, no drapes. The glass is crystal clear, and stars twinkle in the distance. The moon is bright enough to cast a shadow, and I see her moving in the room. I think she’s smiling, at least it sounds like she is when she says my name. I don’t want to listen, but I turn towards her anyway, my ears perked and primed. I know she won’t use this room in the daytime. There’s no hiding from the sunshine here.

Our lips meet and I want to forget, but I can’t. In the darkness, I imagine it’s her. My mind knows it’s not, but in the dark, the senses can lie. Her hair brushes over my chest as we kiss and I’m there. Mexico ten years ago. With the one, I’ll never forget. I’ve forgotten everything, but I’ll never forget her.

Her eyes glow red and I become lost in her black endless center. I’m hypnotized. She never blinks, burning a hole into my soul until I submit. She begins piercing my lip with a tiny nibble, until a bead of blood forms around her tooth. She is hungry, but she is careful not to ruin her meal and she takes her time with me and then I submit. I get lost in Mexico again to ignore the pain. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but I am not. I long for my Samantha and I wonder where she has gone since I was taken.

***

They usually forget. Everything. But this one, he holds on to something as if it will restore to him the life I have usurped. The first time I bit him, I was just hungry. I wasn’t even going to keep him, just drain him and go. But there was something there, as I watched the light vanish from his eyes. Something I wanted to see again. And I stopped, which is something I never do. I have been accused time and again of having zero control. Which, of course, is hilarious to me. They brought me into their fold for my uniqueness, thinking that would help their cause. Then for centuries, they cursed me for not adding to their ranks, only depleting their prey. Yet they never asked me if I wanted to join them. Not that I asked Seren. But he is grateful for his new life, I think.

***

I’m lost on the winds of a Gulf beach, and I know the stinging of sand across my bare skin is a stand-in for the pinch of pain from this monster’s meal. Will today be the day she lets me drift into the dark forever? Am I going to be cursed to walk the world next to her, never to know the warmth of an ocean sunrise again? Part of me hopes for oblivion while wishing for the curse of her gift. My instincts to live any life I can rage against my despair and I surrender completely. My hopes don’t matter; I am food. I am completely hers.

Unbelievably, I am content. I open my eyes and the moon stares at us in our dark embrace. And she’s smiling at me. It isn’t the evil smile of a predator gorging on its prey. It’s the smile of someone who’s genuinely curious. There’s a strange interest I can’t put my finger on.

“Do you know what this is?” She asks. I shake my head slowly.

“Do you know what I am?” Her words are breathed out with a smoldering fire.

“Yes,” I say softly.

“Would you like to be one?”

I was weak. Her question perplexed me and my limbs were frozen in place. She held me up while I took the time to find my feet under me again. Then I found my voice.

“Be, Like you?”

She tilted her head back and licked her lips from the rest of me draining from of the corners of her mouth, but never took her eyes off me. Her mouth didn’t move but she still spoke to me inside my mind.

“Yes, do you want to live forever?” She began smiling.

“Do you want me to erase her from your mind?”

She reached up with one finger and ran it across my lips smearing the now cold and drying blood across them.

“You could love me, like you love her, you know?”

***

I don’t know how it was that I knew that light in his eyes was a woman. I guess the stirrings of so much human blood coursing through me over the years has sensitized in some way I don’t understand. But in that moment, that one tiny moment of an infinite life, I ached for someone to think of me that way as they die. And maybe that’s the power of the immortals my peers were always antagonizing me about. Maybe that’s the pull they feel as they create the new undead so loyal to them and this new life. So dependent on them for the foundation of their path forward. But is that love or a superiority complex?

***

To be a dead thing, imitating life. To be a dead thing, moved on to the next world. Why can’t my choice be to be left alone? But I know I’ll never walk free. An absence of a fence isn’t freedom. To see the horizon and know that I can’t approach it without a chain of regret pulling me back is almost enough to make me break. My will to live wanes, but refuses to snap. Is it weaker to wither, or to rot? Which is which?

“My love for her was never a choice. It just was. You can make me love you, but I’ll never choose it.”

“Choose life or choose death,” she whispers in my mind.

“You don’t offer life. You offer shadows of living.”

“Choose the shadows, or choose the fire. I’ll not force you.”

In the end, my will isn’t strong enough for oblivion, so I choose damnation.

"I choose you,” and my tears mix with my blood.

And she smiles and puts her teeth in my neck again, but this time it’s more kiss than bite. And she pricks her finger with a tooth and lets the blood trickle into the bite wound and she kisses again. Rather than the kiss of life, it’s the kiss of the undead. And it went on for what seemed like an eternity. When she backed away, I felt regret and longing. A deep dark longing. A hole in my gut, in my very soul. A hole through my entire being.

“You should have killed me,” I said.

“I said the same thing.” There was a great sadness in her voice. “I’m sorry.”

She walks away toward the open window, disappearing in and out of the shadows until she reaches the sill. One side of her shifts in the light and she absorbs the brilliance of the night. Her hair drapes down her shoulder and covers her chest and her long black robe blends her into the darkness of the room.

“You will never love me the same, will you?”

She looks down at the ground seeming disappointed.

“I was a fool to think it was possible.”

***

There are two sides to one bite. They equal a different forever. I pause at the artery and listen as if his blood holds secrets. Does his blood hold secrets? There was a tell in his eyes, the way they shone, there was a taste, reverberating through the blood I’ve ingested over the years that spoke of that shine. So elusive, so interesting.

But is he interesting? I am starting to think he is not. Evoking a feeling of weakness, there is no room for that in my…life. I am starting to think he is just desperate. Or am I projecting? What happens to a mind after so many years of eternal life? Does it begin to…degrade? Is this what is happening? Am I allowing these humans to demoralize me and warp me into a sensibility and desire for intimacy I never had? I position myself for the final bite.

***

The ritual is complete, she leaves me, and my body is wracked with the pain of a million dying cells. I think it’s over, and the pain begins again with a million cells being reborn. My skin is on fire and the sound of silence is a white noise hiding a thousand creaks and groans of wood and nails. I smell the iron of the hammers that drove the nails and I smell my rusted, spilled blood covering them.

I notice no heartbeats because heartbeats belong to food.

I hear her watching me in the Moonshadow.

I scream until I am raw, but I’m not breathless.

I do not breathe.

I can’t forget what it’s like to live, because this pain is a reminder.

I gasp out of habit, collapsed, curled, waiting for the agony to subside. Still, she watches.

I sense the sunrise nearing the window, and I wait for her to take me by the hand.

I consider gripping her when she reaches for me, holding her like the lover she pretends to be, while we burn.

I decide to wait.

I’ve forgotten how to live, but I still know how to die.

When the time is right, I’ll remind her of what it means to do both.

This week's writing prompt was inspired by the Italian movie poster shown on the above cover, "Dimentica Tutto."

Written in order by @Ferryman, @Ledlevee, @ChrisSadhill, and @Meejong.

I knew that it was true

But humbly tried to decline

While each and every eye

Did its best to meet mine

I was somewhere near the edge

Of narcissism and time

Reigning in the chaos

As I cut another line

Fertile space, yields, dances

with the abyss, eager for embrace

An open page, mocks and teases

Coy blank stare, asking for appeasement

The wind bends trees

As the fortune begs and pleads

Take your time back

Let your purse slack

For this judgment is my own

lacking his name in vain.

Filling the vial with truth is my method

a shot of death is my game.

the light touched where the corners met,

beneath the sink,

at the skirt where grandma’s feet,

poked out where she overdosed,

but the candy in her dress,

kept us happy,

till the ambulance showed up

Written by @Putski, @Shells, @TheWolfeDen, @MeeJong, @ChrisSadhill, @Fudo in that order, based off the following quotes (not in order) which were written on my dry erase board at work:

Minutes are worth more than money. Spend it wisely.

-Fortune Cookie

Blank

-Fortune Cookie

Living on the edge leaves very little room for error.

-Cristiana

You make it look easy...the fact is it's really hard but you do it anyway. That's admirable.

-Hailey

You are amazing because everything.

-Nexen

I don't believe in God, I believe in science.

-Nacho Libre character whose name I can't remember

(a collaborative Prose tale, created as three simultaneous round robins)

by @MeeJong, @dustygee123, & @ChrisSadhill

The Beginning

It all started so innocuously.

Until you brought up the story about my Aunt Hilda.

That’s when it all went south.

I sought to steer the conversation in a new direction.

"So, what do you want for dinner?"

“I never planned for that, all I have are these Oreos,” she said.

“Dinner, first!” the parent in me blurted.

That pistol in my waistband was whispering my name.

After a moment I concluded I’d be better off waiting for that.

“I’ll go grab a pizza from that spot you like, then we’ll dig into the Oreos for dessert.”

I knew if I didn't step out the door, I was going to do something I couldn't take back.

So I walked out to order an Uber Eats and clear my devilish mind.

The devil was in full force tonight though, and the fresh air only brought fresh madness.

It was time to call that bastard in North Korea.

It was time to do what was promised.

Having made that decision, I came back inside and decided it was Oreo time.

The Middle

When I opened up the Oreo, it just didn't look right.

I licked it anyways.

I began to suspect you had tampered with it, but I had to be sure.

I knew right away when my tongue began to burn that I was about to go on a trip.

I wasn’t sure how long it would take, so I needed to get to a safe space.

I made the mistake of calling my Aunt Hilda.

I listened to her ramble on about the Korean War or something until it hit.

I was hearing the air distort around my ears and seeing particles of dust grow and then shrink again when the doorbell rang.

"Uber Eats!" I heard a young man say from the porch.

Who knew they delivered to the White House?

“Wrong house,” I growled in the direction of the door.

Where was a Chief of Staff when you needed one?

Hell, where is the White House Physician when you need him?

I opened the door to find myself face to face with the muzzle of a Colt .45.

I turned, grabbing the bourbon sitting on the side table, downing it, then throwing the glass into the face of the fake Uber driver, before grabbing the gun from my waistband.

The Ending

If I knew this was my fate, I would have planned better.

Perhaps I would have foregone that third bourbon.

Or at least left the pistol in the car.

Now I have to decide which one of my aunts I want to live, and which one will die.

No one expects to have a Sophie’s Choice moment on a Saturday night.

But then no one expected a broken businessman with a terrible toupee and a misogynistic demeanor to win the Presidency either.

Fuck it, I might as well pass the package around.

I downed a fourth bourbon and prayed that was the decision I would regret in the morning.

The Oreos I had for lunch seemed like they would at least be the second regrettable decision.

I felt around my waistband to prepare for the heat I was about to deliver.

I wished for the hundredth time Aunt Greta hadn’t come over.

"Greta," I said, "did I tell you about what happened to Hilda?"

“What do you mean?” she tilted her head with curiosity.

“She got in some trouble with the Mafia, and owes them serious money.”

"Shit. Order us a pizza, and you can tell me all about it."

I look down at my phone to pull up the app to order for the second time today.

“Ok, I am not really that Hungry, but what toppings would you like?”

I didn’t hear a response for a few moments.

Drawing my attention away from the phone, there was Greta pointing her compact pearl-gripped berretta straight at me.

This was a seriously bad trip.

“I want Pepperoni with a side of your head, extra cheese!” She smirked as she delivered a chunk of metal to my chest.

<end>

There was a young sailor who stopped in town

And he wandered into the wrong bar,

They looked at him sadly, everyone wore a frown.

His mother always told him he’d never get far

But the hooker he met changed his tune

Even after ignoring her scar.

Hard and strong like a Fremen from Dune

He rocked her fast and free

But alas, he ended too soon

To make matters worse, his pipe was empty

Sad and pantless, he retreated to the bathroom

Searched around for a new point of entry

And to stall a bit, he spilled her cheap perfume.

and hoped maybe her "favors" were free

Or his credit score spelled his doom

Outside in the bar a band played eerily

The heroin dimmed their sunken mood

and killed the buzz from the LSD

To my right I found the righteous dude

Heaping his judgment as if wearing a crown

With an evil grin, he finished his food

Rules were as follows:

1) ABA BCB ... rhyme scheme

2) Had to be about sex, drugs and rock & roll

3) We write one line each, in rotation.

Written by @putski, @dustygee123, @ledlevee, @MeeJong

Mee Jong walked one step at a time

Simon the searcher sought his rhyme

Jennifer ran, but she missed the bus

Peter skipped, tripped, let loose a cuss

John however, was running late

Megan was sad, ’cause John missed their date;

Kate was happy, since she met John

Stan and John got it on

Mike was snoring, a smile on his face

Lily sat thinking Mike’s a disgrace

Lily and Kate should be a thing

Luke was picturing Kate on a swing...

Stella sat sweetly thinking of Jim

Susan wished she could think of him

Peg was finding evil things to do

Kevin slipped on the shampoo

Peg pounced with her strap-on dick

Jim saw Peg pouncing, and he got sick

Patty got mad she had to clean puke

Danny pulled a few chords on his uke.

Mark was silently saying a prayer

Lucy was boldly stripping layers

Brian's table was never so clean

Rachel was on it, making a scene.

Buck, overwhelmed, ran down the hall

Rachel choked on Brian’s balls

Bradley had something strange in his pack

Whitney twerked to “Baby’s Got Back”

Susie felt frisky in her skirt

Ryan was trying to peek in her shirt

Damien tried to pee on Michelle

Michelle's jellyfish sting would swell

Rose showed Ryan her kitty's new trick

Billy showed Rose what substance would stick

Karen showed Billy her new world rhyme

Chad planned to show Karen a good time

Kelly cried out “What’s happening?!”

Karen screamed back "Oh, nothing"

Glen was zipping up his pants

Erin spit into the plants

Glen was happy with the results

Ronnie was building twin catapults

Nellie was gunning for first prize

Daniel was facing a big surprise

Richard was mad about his nickname...

Tanya was mad she never came

Brian said he was to blame

Peter said he was done with this game.

1) Each line had to start with a name;

2) Each person wrote one line, in rotation;

3) Each line had to have 9 syllables or less;

4) Each couplet should rhyme and it would be written in quatrains.

Written by @putski @dustygee123 @MeeJong @ledlevee

......................I

..................cannot

................really feel

.............enough of me

......I'm feeling quite numb;

My heart's been shattered within

....and now I just can't begin

........to own this deep pain

..............Yet it is mine

...............Mine alone

...................Am I

..................Home

A collaborative arkquain:

Written by @MeeJong, @putski, @dustygrein

Prior to invention,

there was prevention

What could it mean,

when something has never been

Is there existence before birth?

Were humans here before Earth? Was there a time before time? Or was there just nothing, darkness sublime?

Was there fire before a spark

Or did the sky provide the Arc

and did the field fill with smoke

Or is it one thousand hooves driven by cowpoke?

Ideas abound within my mind,

but it makes me sad to only find

there is no way to make these things...

you can't fly high without some wings.

Unless you just unleash your mind

And then you find that you can climb

The highest height in a single leap

The deepest depth without any feet

But we chain our minds

With things unkind;

Depression, self-attack,

not looking forward, always looking back

These chains we are bound

cementing us in the ground.

Medicated and Deprived,

Still, our minds won't arrive.

It's hard to flash with much insight,

with only fire to light the night,

those lightbulb moments will have to wait

for someone to open invention's gate.

Still, we cling to dreams and flight

Invent new wings as we shed fright

Forge the gates with grit and steel

Drive the future with mass appeal

And then the masses gain the might

To invent new art with creative insight

And invention has returned

With new things done and learned

A new beginning unfolds

where enlightenment’s never old

and the sun rises from the east

Our ideas like bread, are baked with Yeast

In the glorious dawn of a brand new day,

we lift our heads and bravely say

"We have these plans to craft and build!"

and in doing so, we are fulfilled.

Written by @MeeJong, @ledlevee, @dustygrein @ChrisSadhill

Moonlight snuck up on the land as warmth gently radiated from the earth. The raindrops cooled the atmosphere and diluted her angry tears. The land screamed the loss of her favorite climbing tree as her broken heart sought solace in the deluge.

Devastating Night

Followed By Hopeful Mornings

Then Heartbreak Again.

The oak tree stump weathered over time forgetting the meaning of treeness. The stump cracked and splintered as the moss worked its way along the surface, becoming a stool of sorts with green and fuzzy upholstery.

Nearby the mushrooms grew in a reasonable circle around the stump. Adding contrast with their bright red tops and white spots to the muted green and brown of the stump.

From the root it bled, gave birth to comfort, splitting open to new shades.

The land knew not to fear because life comes from death, and life leads to death. Just like the circle of fungi that encircles the rotting stump, life too forms a circle. After many phases of the earth spinning through the void a new oak rises from its nourishing center.

Fairy circle spins

The oak tree sings softened tunes

Cycles start anew

A leaf is drawn by the shade of a dream. What hue colors your thoughts in hopes and fears. Memories strung across the horizon's beam. Trees capture time in empty lots. Plastic bags and piss filled pints dot my way to work.

Paper tumbleweeds

Apocalyptic darkness

Death scents blow through streets

A barren land stinks of mankind’s hand. Where did all the green thumbs go? We plant seeds in toxic land and death rises like morning sun. Love the land, the Earth, the seed, what beautiful future can we breed.

When man touches green

The land weeps as it's ravaged

Can life follow death?

And sunlight snakes behind, so I chase my shadow through the streets. Work awaits. It's hard to appreciate the glisten of dew strewn between piles of vomit and litter. I'm more aware now of the little sprouts climbing through the cracks of concrete, like hunchback children clawing at life, resilient and sorrowful. I'm not sure if I should mourn them or thank them for the reminder.

Endless Sprints searching.

For beauty among the trash

A treasure I prize

I dig, searching for meaning at the bottom of sticky barrels, at the nape of the neck of discarded giants. At the bottom of the stinking heap, I find the bits, the minimum to keep me floating across the asphalt. I am a sacrifice to these sidewalks, a ghost of glory days and industrial dreams

Sacrificial me

Am I to be a martyr?

Or can we learn love

The trees are to swallow me up beneath their roots, their beautiful whispers are more than the leaves in the breeze. So here, I will close my eyes for the final time, the Earth drinking me up. The tree covering up the last breath and then the grass grew new and fresh, turning the death into life again.

Evergreens Speak of

A final dream awaiting

A muted exhale

The final dream escapes through an open window into the still air of night. The final breath swirls in the cloudless sky. The stars look down on silent thoughts and dying tears, their light millions of years old, traveling through endless vacuum.

Foggy spring time days,

Firs cresting over the peak.

Breathing air so chilled.

in the end I see -

an abysmal waterfall -

a golden rainbow

Perching near the end of it, nothing makes sense. Dust-coated rain and silver darkness. The future circles back slow in the breeze, speaking soft beneath the dirt. Tastes like iron and hope here beneath the branches.

in the air I smell,

what started and what ended -

the cycle of life

Trees rustling, birds chirping till the woodpecker knocks on the wood of my house.

I reach out, opening my screen-less window over the second floor to wave him away, for there is nothing here to eat.

He comes back every day, till I dangle the glinting metal and he finds a tree across from me in the woods by my neighbor's house. So beautiful, so pretty, just not knocking on the roof of my house.

in the hollow knocks,

shadows escape from the air,

can we find kindness?

The garbage receded as the forest reclaimed the excrement of overpopulation. Birds returned with the last seed of the the truffula tree. The trees begin to speak for themselves as their voice has failed to protect them.

Leaves and vines consume

The deaths we all leave behind

Casting flesh to dirt

And where is the tree of the prophecy. Was there never a Garden of Eden? Let us learn, let us eat, let us turn from or toward that which makes us stronger. But let us know, let us see. Grant us a glimpse of that life which could be.

Apples of thine eye,

Shining gleaming tempts of gold

Trees in gardens fold

The tree, now decomposed, feeds worms before children pluck them from the soil. They wiggle to the rhythm of laughter, scattering dots of dirt on pudgy hands. This is Eden, soon to be smeared on tattered rags. Sooner forgotten.

the warmth of dead light,

in the lost breath of cold love,

lost where children dream

Children skip back with worms in hand, cutting switches for fishing, not for pain. Learning how the Earth provides. Cycling from giving to receiving, reaping and sowing, birth and death. Worm to fish to dinner to manure.

And the sun shines bright

And the moonshine flows freely

And star shine sparks souls

There, in the pristine blue black night shines the stars. In the distance, white light pours up from the city, but it cannot penetrate here. Owls hoot as the chirping birds have quieted, gone to bed for the night. I listen, taking one deep chilled breath into my iced lungs and the heat within me dissipates as I bleed into the night. I am one with the coyote that howls, the deer that rustles through the brush and the elk that clack hooves across the asphalt.

I am the night life

You are the warmth of morning

We are why birds sing

Their song resting between horizons and dancing along the line where dreams become blinks. A slow stretch beneath the covers before the cold of day kisses heel. Just a few more moments here before I say goodbye again to the solace.

multi-colored pens,

etch a melting memory,

can we watch the sea?

I want to feel the sea air blowing against my hardened skin. I want to feel the cold of the waves on my feet. I want to feel the warmth of a body resting against me. I want to forget the cold of the night, the tears of the day.

salted air grinds skin

her warmth escaping my touch

my wind, made of loss

Just wanted to take a moment to introduce Prose Collaborations. This is a proser started thing and not official in any way. This account is intended to post discord collaborations. Hoping it's just another way for us to interact and grow while sharing the work with the Prose community. Write on my friends.