Joule’s Anomaly
Juliana hurried. What had been a beautiful summer day hiking the Appalachian Trail was quickly turning into a weather event. She had been completing portions of the trail as her schedule allowed, but lately her progress had been hit and miss. The approaching thunder had an ominous, low rumble that seemed to resonate within her. Her hike was about to be scrapped. Again.
Juliana finally located a trail shelter and quickly entered. A strong gust ripped the door from her grasp and flung it all the way open. She swore and pushed it shut behind her, relieved to have reached some semblance of safety from the coming storm.
“Looks like you made it just in time,” a deep male voice spoke.
Juliana turned around and squinted as her vision adjusted to the dim interior of the shelter. A man sat on the floor with his back propped against his pack. He was writing in a small leather journal. As she shrugged off her own pack, the stranger put his journal aside and rose to his feet. He approached her and offered an outstretched hand, “Arlo.” The timbre of his voice had the same effect on her as the approaching thunder: it somehow was felt more than heard.
She ignored that odd feeling and accepted his hand, “Juliana.”
Zings of electricity instantly flowed between them as they touched. It felt like a strong static shock, but instead of hurting, it felt… good? Juliana quickly pulled her hand away and stepped back.
“Whoa! That was weird, right?” She laughed nervously and rubbed one hand against the other.
Small branches were thrown onto the shelter's metal roof with a noisy clatter. Arlo glanced upward and shook his head, “Not weird at all. These conditions are ideal for energy exchange. Energy stored must be energy released at some point,” he looked at her and continued, “within the atmosphere and perhaps between humans, too...” he trailed off thoughtfully, slowly rubbing his hands together as well. Breaking eye contact, he ran a hand through his hair and gave a self-conscious laugh as he blushed.
He has great hair…I wish I could run my hands through it. Juliana mused.
It was now her turn to blush. The uncharacteristic, intrusive thought caught Juliana off guard.
Really? You've known him, what? A full two minutes? She admonished herself until she felt appropriately guilty.
“Juliana,” Arlo began to ask her something when another thought suddenly occurred to him, “your name…”
“Yeah, but no one calls me that. Everyone has always called me—”
“Jules,” Arlo interjected.
“Yeah! How- How did you know that it would be ‘Jules’ and not ‘Julie’?” She could not hide her surprise.
“Huh… I don't know. Just a guess. It really does suit you, though.” Arlo rubbed his chin with an amused and oddly pleased look on his face. Jules was confused by his reaction, but didn't ask.
Wanting to change the subject, yet hopeful to continue their conversation, Jules queried, “So… what do you do for a living?” She immediately cursed herself inwardly for going with such a generic question.
Arlo watched her kaleidoscope of facial expressions and laughed good-naturedly, “It's okay. I study atmospheric thermodynamics.”
“Okay. I can't even pretend I know what that is,” Jules laughed, “but can I guess what it has to do with?”
“Of course,” Arlo nodded, adjusting his glasses.
“Hmm… Meteorology? As in… weather prediction type stuff?” Jules playfully ventured.
“Not exactly. It's a branch of physics that studies the relationship between heat and energy— other things too, but I'm most fascinated in the transfer of energy that occurs in nature. So, today happens to be my favorite kind of day.” Almost on cue, thunder crackled and boomed, rattling the windows. Arlo grinned and continued, “You see, I track energy anomalies and there have been several strong, but sporadic readings in this area. I feel like I may have isolated a pattern, but it is too early to tell. I am here on vacation to hike, but also do research if the opportunity presents itself.”
They sat on the floor, facing one another. Arlo again leaned against his pack and Jules against hers. Despite their awkward start, they both now felt at ease. Without further prompting, Arlo began to explain thermodynamic theory to Jules. He was quite animated while describing his life's work.
Despite the fact Jules found Arlo to be highly intelligent and incredibly articulate, she understood very little of what he was telling her. However, what caught and held her attention was the manner in which Arlo spoke. Jules had never heard anything technical be expressed so eloquently and passionately. To her ear, his words sounded like scientific poetry— if such a thing existed. She felt like she could listen to him speak for hours.
She felt a hum growing between them as he spoke. It felt like a warm magnet, sensuously fluctuating and pulling at her center. Pulling her toward him in a most intimate manner.
Am I losing my mind, or is he feeling this too?
It was at this point that Jules became mesmerized by Arlo’s mouth. She became entranced by the way his lips moved; she couldn't help but stare. She eventually felt strangely jealous of each spoken word, each uttered syllable— if only she could be caressed by his tongue and lips like that…
Vivid images of his handsome face buried in her lap while both her hands grasped his hair came to her mind like a lightning strike. She blushed and looked away, but the image remained.
Okay, this is crazy. Stop, you perv.
But Jules did not stop. This time she welcomed the intrusive thoughts and embraced the resultant heat that flooded her body. Her mouth watered, her heart raced, and her breath rate increased. Her nipples hardened and eventually, the throbbing slickness between her thighs became impossible to ignore. She adjusted how she was sitting, but the unavoidable rubbing only made the ache worse.
The last few synapses in her brain that were not lust-infused attempted to reason with her:
Perhaps there is a scientific explanation. Is it somehow related to this storm? Would Arlo know? I mean, he is a scientist after all. But… what if this can't be explained?
And then suddenly, Jules didn't care anymore what the reason might be. She leaned toward him, the pull now too strong to resist. Outside, the storm intensified. Its insistence to be known was now in tandem with her need.
Arlo had stopped talking and looked deeply into her eyes. What she saw mirrored her own desire and fascination. It was obvious to Jules that he was indeed feeling the powerful attraction, too. He was as smitten as she and his arousal was as achingly present as hers. He could not hide it if he tried and he had no intention of doing such a thing. Heavy sheets of rain lashed at the window as they slowly leaned toward each other.
As lips parted and tongues met, the most spectacular sensation surged through them both. It was stronger and much more sensual than the zing from their earlier handshake. Whatever few reservations they were still holding to were now completely abandoned. They impatiently fumbled with and tore at one another's clothes with desperate hunger. They broke from kissing only when absolutely required.
Everywhere their bare skin touched, erotic electricity snapped and sizzled. Tendrils of supernatural longing raced and spiraled between and within them like currents. Their senses moved together as if they were celestial dance partners following ancient choreography only the two of them were ever destined to know.
Arlo's eager hands cradled Jules' bare cheeks and lifted her onto the countertop in one fluid movement. Her arms and legs reached to greedily encircle him as he moved toward her with animal intensity. The storm that ensued between the two rivaled the raw beauty of the summer storm raging around them.
The power that had been unleashed that day changed the landscape of all they thought they knew. As they continued to explore the principles of thermodynamics together, Arlo was confident he had at last located the source of the anomaly.
They learned everything that energy release between two humans was meant to be.
In theory, and in practice.
Plain As Vodka Day, Keep Sweating Blood, and A Bluebird As We Thrash.
Seven writers bring the metal and mettle to number 57, stretching their fingers across time and space, across verse and touch, into our cores, and the air around the rest. Hot coffee, cold reads, with eight pieces of undeniable beauty to command our attention, and send us away floating.
Here's the link to 57:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HP_J3j0uL5I
And here are the pieces featured.
https://www.theprose.com/post/824709/the-stone-cutter https://www.theprose.com/post/824539/the-blank https://www.theprose.com/post/823998/heroes
https://www.theprose.com/post/823917/the-plover https://www.theprose.com/post/823875/ode-to-a-prizefighter https://www.theprose.com/post/823721/swings-both-ways
https://www.theprose.com/post/823715/uncompromising https://www.theprose.com/post/823328/blue-bird
And.
As always.
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team
Mere Moments
Maybe in a different lifetime
In a different timeline
Just maybe we
Would meet in different circumstances
Where the end begins in echoes
Where your world is me
And your world is me....
Now...
It's just moments and it seconds it all disappears
Dissipates into space and time
Never meant to be more
Than just mere moments
All Too Well (First Love version)
I remember a bus stop.
I can picture it- seven years later.
It was cold, so it must have been fall.
I remember your little bounce- you were cold. Already wearing a hoodie, so I couldnt offer mine.
I remember the glint of your teeth off the stop lights. Driving felt so far away then, waiting for the bus.
I remember your laugh on the wind- sharp, deep and cutting. I felt my own lips turn. I remember it was a tie between a grin and a frown-
because I could not openly love you then. And I was too sick to know how, anyway.
But nobody knew- not how I kept you sacredly to my chest. Not my quiet murmuring of worship. They didn't know the same altar I prayed at for your love that they prayed for your salvation. Or mine. Who knows?
Seven years. So many hours lost to thinking of you. So many poems. An entire book.
So, I know. I don't know you now, just as you don't me as must as you like to think you do from what I heard of you saying about me.
Despite it, I love you. Or maybe I love late, cold nights at a bus stop,
and awkward fumbling and hidden, anxious kisses.
I smile and swallow bitterly until im worried my face will stick like that.
And then I know it isn't true.
If soulmates exist, it is you. Because I cannot be rid of you though I try.
I don't remember your smell, or your touch, but I remember you.
I remember it all.
Entry #3: A Melancholy In Gold
The royal tears won't flow. I have no hope of claiming the power in the wake of their deluge. When a meteor hits, the impact only does some of the devastating -- waves do their fair share. I feel as if I have it in me to dredge the toxins from the belly of Gaia herself and, in doing so, spin up and dilute the poisonous rot stewing there. I keep the golden key in my pocket. It will know its' companion in due time.
To know The Key is to let it twine like some eight-legged reptile round my fingers, sink its' teeth into my palms, and find rest. As my coil tremors, my spirit slinks off and away. Cowardice, or tact? Respite, in either case, and by such simple means.
Love is a verb (repost)
As I was walking down the street the other day, I noticed the following sentence written on the sidewalk in big white block letters:
LOVE IS A VERB.
That made me smile and think yes, yes it is.
Yes, it is also a noun: deep affection. But, for that phrase to actually have more substance than the breath you expel upon saying I love you, there must be actions to give it weight. To give it meaning. Love cannot live in words alone if they are not to fade away to nothingness, or worse, twist and rot in the absence of actions or in the face of actions that put lie to the words.
What those actions might be, that demonstrate that love, are myriad and multitudinous...and quite personal to each individual.
For me, it is bear hugs. It's the words said every day, multiple times a day. It is standing on the porch waving as a loved one drives away. It's baking someone's favorite dessert, preparing homecooked meals. It's listening, accepting those you love as they are while encouraging them, supporting them to be their best selves. It's compromising. It's remembering things that are important to your loved one. Doing things for and with your loved one.
Sometimes it's sacrificing - time, energy, money, sleep for your loved one.
Nurtured, it will grow and strengthen. Blossom. Evolve.
Limited to words belied by actions - or inaction, it ceases to be love.
Born of Conflict: Aw Nuts
It's not unsual
To be twisted
And knotted up
It's unusual to be free
To not be tethered
To live without connection
But freedom
Can often be
Limiting
Because connection
Is inherent to existence
And we exist
We live free
Yet bound to
Our own reality
We are born of conflict:
Dynamic beings
Composed of
Inanimate matter
Creating a labyrinth
Convoluted
Into one path
A 3-Dimensional Universe
That spirals and gravitates
In mostly 2-Dimensions
Folded down
To our histones
We unravel
We become more
Than the sum
Of our parts
A complex
Bound by 4-Dimensions
Looks nutty in 3
Family Isn’t Blood
When you said,
Family isn't blood,
It's who you choose to let in,
I was in the back seat of your car
When you had never been the one to pick me up.
Tears streaked down my face,
And I had just asked why the devil and I couldn't get along.
I hadn't called you,
I had called my Angel,
But there you were.
She must have heard the panic in my voice,
and called you in her own panic.
You dropped everything to pick me up,
even though it was before your waking hours.
I should have known you loved me then,
For a man so unyeilding to upend everything.
But there was always that doubt,
That poison that stops me from saying those words even now.
So when I saw you for the last time
And you also said the words "I love you,"
I should have let you in.
CHPTER-XXXVII:The eternal pond(part-2)
Days went by but Suruchi's mother didn't return. She grew into a beautiful maiden and was wedded to Roshan the son of the high priest of Sun temple in Jyothinagar. They were very happy, and were blessed with a pair of beautiful twins, a boy and a girl. But suddenly in happiness, the bottlegourd was broken by Roshan. Suruchi was shocked, what to do now, her life just started with her 2 bundles of joy. Should she leave now?