Burden or Gift?
Natalie sighed. Why did it always have to be up to her to sort stuff out. I mean people always offloaded their mental crap, like she was a scrap yard collecting old metal car carcasses of bygone ages. She had just put down the phone from another droning conversation with Louise. Gawd that woman could collected problems, enhance them and magnify them into annoying blowflies that circled the drama for specks of rancid crumbs and Natalie thought she herself could over indulge drama. No flies on her when it came to Louise it seemed.
She sighed again. Really it was time for her to stop being the one that everyone confided in. It was exhausting and she was exhausted. She turned and looked sideways meeting the kind eyes of her Grandmother watching her intently.
"I do know Nan" she said to the older woman. "but I didn't ask for this."
Her Grandmother watched her sympathetically, not saying a word. Natalie sighed again. Her Nan, so lovely with her faded forget-me-not eyes. Such an amazing support to her for so many years. She really felt like Nan was more of a mother to her than her own really. She scooped the cards from the table and shuffled them lazily. The cards were worn from many years of being handled. Natalie looked at them affectionately, they had been passed on to her from Nan 10 years ago, when Nan had finally been honest about the whole "Gift" thing. They felt as familiar to her as Nan's beautiful faded eyes.
She loved the energy of them, the smoothness of them in her palms and the sense of belonging they had in her hands. She heard Nan laugh, tinkling with love. "Yes, they always have been in the family, handed down generation to generation with love." Natalie smiled at her. "I am grateful really Nan, just sometimes I wonder if it is a Gift or a burden?"
Nan smiled and walked around behind Natalie. Natalie caught the scent of voilets that she always associated with Nan and closed her eyes for a moment savouring the smell. Nan whispered in her ear. "Phone's about to ring, time to use your Gift, and it IS a Gift". Natalie smiled, she supposed so, after all it had been handed down to her.
The phone buzzed on the table shattering the still air and Natalie placed the cards on the table glancing at the time on the wall. Hmmz, right on time her 1pm client. She answered "Natalie speaking". She winked at Nan as she faded to a dim outline and then wisped out of sight. "Let me shuffle the cards Barbara and see what they say." Natalie shuffled the cards fast out of old habit and sighed in her mind. She wasn't really that exhausted and after all Nan had taught her well. The Tarot she absolutely loved and having Nan with her all the time. Well that Gift was always handed down to the women in the Dee Family. It was just one of those things......
I am created in the warm, red, loud world of a womb
I am growing into a being of independence, a voyager, a pioneer, a sensory astronaut.
I am the sum total of a multitude of burnt tongues, skinned knees, childhood screams of delight, and eclectic memories created.
I am the depths of extruciating loss and pain and the euphoric heights of love.
I am capable of creating dreams beyond vision, seeing beyond into the light of another in my search for wisdom.
I am experience in constant motion, a Tesla coil of frequency.
A Universe orbiting in a world of other Universes of whom most have forgotten who they are.
I am remembering....
Ages of Insults
How dare you bespawl pristine pages with your redolent fopdoodlish presence. Again, your gnashgabbery is fouling the Challenge page of Prose! However, since you have roused yourself for the challenge you Quisby... I shall comply. However, should I see your Rakefire presence here again, I shall be forced to succumb again to unleasing my outdated insults upon your Snoutband....
PS: I love your challenges :P
One man's strength is another man's weakness. However, my flaw is chocolate. Can file, can type, compose, manage, mirco manage even sing, but chocolate brings out the petulant child in me. Will not play well with others, will be uber competitive in a not nice way. The vice hidden from most others surfaces as the weakness appears in those open boxes that sit on a reception desk cramped with sugary crap. I will compete in any situation for chocolate and I rarely share. Employ me at your own risk. PS: will work well for chocolate fish...
Just a little White Lie
Jane's eyelids drooped as she tried to focus on the lines in the book. The lamp beside her bed cast an intimate glow on the white pages but she was feeling the pinch of 2am and her eye lids drooped again. She sighed. Maybe now she could get to sleep finally. She closed the book with a snap and glanced around the dimly lit room. The normal shadows sat in their spaces and she sighed again dropping the book to the floor and turning on her side to reach the bed lamp switch.
"Only good dreams" she mumbled to herself as she slipped the switch and the room fell into darkness. Eyes closed, she felt like she was staring into the void behind her eyes. "Sleep!" she willed her mind with the last dregs of the romance story on her thoughts.
Unbeknownst to the drowsy Jane, a shadow separated from the wall and slipped closer to the bed, sprinkling light like wriggling maggots over her head and face. They landed softly and gently on her skin, whisper quiet, seeping through and into her mind. The red eyes of the shadow gleamed brilliantly for a moment and it leaned closer whispering into Jane's ear.
"Good dreams are a little white lie to keep you safe"
Jane's face crinkled into a fleeting frown at the lightly whispered words but sleep had already sucked her down into its morphic depths.
She woke with a start and switched on the light. She waited to her eyes had adjusted and looked at the digital clock. 2.05am. Had she only been sleeping, if you could call it that for 5 minutes. What a joke and what had woken her up? Her skin felt clammy and she felt uncomfortable in her own skin.
Jane breathed deeply for long moments until she felt better and wiped a hand across her face. She felt unclean, like something revolting had touched her for a moment and left a residual echo on her skin. She reach for the book on the floor and pulled it onto her bed clothes on her chest. She may as well read until sleep snuck in again. She opened the book at the folded page. "All good dreams are a white lie to keep you safe" she read. She frowned. That didn't even make sense and she didn't recall reading that bit. She scanned back up the page a bit, "All good dreams are a white lie to keep you safe"
The words were everywhere, like the story had just been replaced with that stupid sentence. She closed the book and looked at the title again. "A Little White Lie" was emblazoned across the front of the book. What hell, that wasn't the book she was reading.
She had been reading "Tiffany's Choice" before bed to help her fall asleep. She looked at the book in distaste, for the cover of it seemed to be changing, morphing into a scaly skin like texture. She wanted to drop the book but found she couldn't as little vine like tendrils unwound themselves from the book cover and slid lovingly around her wrists tightening as they wound around her wrists and forearms, digging in deeply. It was all happening so fast, the words on the book started to bleed into each other and melt into a teeth filled maw and a rancid rotting smell filled her dilated nostrils. She drew in a breath to scream and the vines surged up her arms and laced into her mouth holding it open in a silence scream. The vines slithered the vile book with the sharp toothed open maw, up her arms and close to her prised open mouth.
Her breath came in short gargled half screams as fear clogged her brain and the stretching of her mouth pulled hot tears from her eyes. The book was now mouth to mouth with her, mere centimetres away and the stench was almost unbearable. She could feel moist heat from the horrific lips of the book and hot rancid breath invading her throat. She craned her eyes downwards in absolute horror as a long lizard like black tongue slipped from book's gaping maw and licked the inside of her mouth, along her tongue, around her teeth and she gagged in the back of throat. Her eyes rolled up in her head and she fainted.
Jane sat up in bed with a muffled scream, her eyes bulging in their sockets, her white nightdress soaked with sweat and her hands clawing at her mouth and throat. In the dim moon light one of the shadows moved and a thin chuckle was missed due to the sound of Jane's pounding heart in her ears. Jane snatched at the light cord and switched on the light throwing her pristine bedroom in sharp detail. Jesus, it had just been a nightmare after all!
She glanced at the book on the floor with distaste. The words "A Little White lie" were fading from the cover and the brilliant pink shades of Tiffany's Choice were reappearing. She rubbed her eyes to rid them of the thoughts that had followed her out of the nightmare, and it was a nightmare she told herself. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself, still in the horror of the dream. There was no way she was going back to sleep tonight, she could still feel the disgusting sensation of the tongue in her mouth. Her stomach rolled alarmingly in response and she jumped out of bed and fled to the toilet to throw up.
The dark shadow detached itself from the side of the curtain and walked to the fallen book reaching out a hand to it. The little maggots of light retracted backwards from the book into the dark hand and it closed its fist around them. "My work is done" it whispered, the whole shadow just dissolved into nothing.
Love is like...
Nails on a blackboard.
Makes you feel like all your skin in crawling but has no where to go.
Your hair standing on end and your heart beating out of your body.
Makes you feel like you will burst if someone doesn't stop that scritching noise.
You want anything, anything at all to pull you, distract you but the noise goes on.
Echoing through to your bones and making you shudder.
Love does that but in a good way....
A forty second blink
I wipe the foggy window of the bus. "Hey look there's a guy in a white shirt and boxers running beside the bus!"
"Driver, stop the bus! Dude running"
Driver waves at me, keeps driving. "Naaa man, he's in training"
"For what? He's got boxers on!"
"Oh good! Yesterday he had no pants on...."
Ever get one of those forty second blinks on the back of a what the....
Unseen but felt
Red is the color of hot water running across your finger tips. Heating with slow intensity and growing to an unbearable burning feel. Red is like that, a tempestuous burn. It is passion rising at the touch of a lovers lips deepening with the kiss. It is the rich bass of a great song pounding through your being and filling your body with heat.
Blue is the opposite, cool water feeling like a soothing caress, is the color of the sky, pleasant but not overly insulting to your soul. As the water grows cooler on your skin it darkens in shades until becoming so cold, icy that it is both dark and light. The icy feel like sharp pins stabbing into your skin is the color of frozen Popsicle sticking to your tongue. Blue is like that, coolness you can stand and then suddenly richly unbearable. Subtle then sharp spiking chords that make you get goosebumps. Blue can do that to your soul.
Yellow is a hug, enveloping with warmth. It is turning your face to the sun and feeling it kiss you with delight. Yellow can be rich like melted butter on your tongue, making you feel warm, oily, yet slightly craving more. Bright yellow can be like an overripe banana, squishy on your tongue, too much to ingest in its overripe state. It's the feel good song that makes your heart sing along in cheerfulness. Yellow can be a balm for your soul in the form of hope.
Green is the sound of wind in trees. Melancholy and whistling in your ears. Green is the color of growing. Grass, children, baby animals, this is the color of green. Feel shoots of new grass, feel leaves on trees. A myriad of feels, this is green. From sharp pine needles, to the flat broad leaves of tropical plants, this is what green feels like, newness of a rainy day on the earth, you can taste green in the sharpness of pineapples and limes, green is the smack in the taste buds to awaken your senses. Green is rising scales in a symphony, key notes to make your heart soar.
Color is frequency reflected in every day life, each moment a note, a cacophony of noise refracting and reflecting life in every way. From the sharp toot of a brilliant red indignant car horn, to the lazy blues of a trickling stream. The zesty orange hues of a street performer's laughter, and yellow bliss of the delighted screams of a child on a swing, the candy floss pinks of new love, and stolen kisses. Color is us, in sound and movement.
"So what's he like?" Candy asked curiously.
"Oh he's heavy, so solid, silent and can be really hard to talk to. He takes himself off in a world of his own. But, he's gorgeous I just love him so." Crystal's deep blue eyes filled with tears. "Sometimes though he can be so cold, so distant and when I lean into him, he is unbending and inflexible."
"God Crystal, seriously you can pick them can't you? Why do you always choose such difficult loves in your life!" Candy rolled her eyes as she squeezed her friends hand compassionately.
Both women turned and looked at the large rock in the passenger seat of Crystal's car, "Great" said Crystal, "Look, he's stoned again..."