the shortest distance between two points
is often unbearable
― Charles Bukowski
The door opens slowly, and I stare at her heavy expression, green sparks like small flames crackling somewhere on the edges, concern mixed with agitation. She gazes at me, noticing the tired face and the strain of my muscles, the vibrations that seem to almost sweat out through my skin and pores. You can pretty much taste the saltiness of the calm fierceness sticking to my veins.
“Ah, I see that Ramsey delivered my message. There was no reason to rush, though. I still have some left.”
She shakes her head slowly, eyes narrowing, making it quite clear that my surface answers don’t faze her much as she swiftly moves right past them, throwing away all the unwanted layers I cover myself with so well. Usually, that is. With her, it’s a bit harder. But maybe it’s another reason, why I gravitate towards her so much. It was a relief at times for someone to see past your elegantly sculptured deceit, covering all the filth and mayhem that you choose not to show for the public view. I valued and respected the way how her penetrating eyes challenged me. And on a few rare occasions, causing me to actually care about something other than reaching my goals and satisfying the delightful selfish needs.
“You didn’t take it again. Did you?”
I gaze at her, something in me crackling low like burning wood in the dead of winter. Flames licking the logs and consuming them slowly, for now just tasting and showing their playful tongues.
I both sign and mouth it to her in a thick, almost syrupy whisper, my energy all over the place. Mind a bit confused as to why my body seems to be on fire, and not from the harm inflicted on my hands but something deep within me that wants to get out. My hands - a dark smile covers my face as a tiny flicker of madness colors my blood in such a pleasing way - those I hardly felt, if anything, they were a motivation to keep going, to break whatever was damaged in my wiring. I watch her staring at me, eyebrows furrowed as her irritation seems to blend with my unstable energy. It’s a risk for her to even be here, and she knows it, yet it doesn’t stop her or make her back away. She steps closer to me, and I try not to move everything in me so heightened.
“You think I don’t know, but I feel you.”
Her energy both sinks into me and bounces off invisible walls as I answer with a calm that could make buildings collapse.
“This time, I was almost sure that I could beat it on my own. I was getting close.”
She sends me an intense stare that says I have glided over her words. Something breaks through my blazing mind and brings unexpected softness to my voice. Her presence alone seeming to soothe the things lingering under my skin. As if bursts of dark holes on the surface of the sun. Exploding every second, yet invisible to the mortal eye. Too far away to touch.
“Yes, I know that you feel me, as I sense you, deeply.”
“And still, you would risk my anger.”
She signs slowly, an intense, heavy stern feel to it. And still, her words almost painting themselves like a little masterpiece as her fingers dance before my eyes. Such elegant motions, even when her soul blazes with fierceness. My state softens some more as I smile and gaze at her delicate features. The long blond hair that resembles silk and lays like a curtain against her back, this time not twisted into a braid but instead hanging loosely and pinned at the sides so they won’t fall to her face. She’s wearing a pair of pale green pants that end above her ankles, and a creamy shirt without any sleeves, a strip of soft skin showing between the bottom of it and the line of her trousers, a pair of white simple ballerinas, hugging her feet softly. The entire outfit kept in the 1950s, girl next door kind of style, though I know that she doesn’t plan it that way, just everything about her seeming to belong to a different era. Everything on her seems old-fashioned, even the worn-out brown leather bag that hangs across the slender shoulder.
“Your anger, my dear?”
“Don’t be so amused, I had more than once stoked your fires.”
My eyes follow hers, feeling the intensity of her energy. Like a baby tiger roaring, its claws sharper than you could ever expect. Never underestimate the stripes on a beast, no matter how innocent they might seem. I think and my hand automatically reaches out and lays on the side of her waist as I pull her into me, breath tickling her skin as I lean in, whispering, my eyes on her.
That was a different kind of thrill.
My hands are busy, but I know that she can read the words from my lips, a smile spreading as I see her reaction. She blushes from the sudden closeness, yet is determined to make me listen first, a nearing lecture already written all over her face - a stubborn creature not fooled by my gentle distractions. Well, maybe not so gentle - I think as she frees herself from my hold, putting my hands sternly by my sides. She was the only one that I let do such a thing. If it had been anyone else, I would have pounced at her, finding many more pleasing ways to spend time with her than a conversation.
She points to the sofa, and I obey very slowly, as it wasn’t in my nature to do so. Yet, I made just a few rare exceptions. She was one of them. I sit down, observing as she busies herself in the kitchen, preparing everything needed for the brew. The smell of rich herbs soon filling the air as she brings me a tall glass that I usually use for coffee. She catches my stare as I take it from her and shrugs, lifting her hands impatiently.
“It doesn’t matter what it is in or how I serve it to you, just as long as you drink it.”
I nod gently, sipping the warm liquid.
She frees herself slowly from her leather bag and lets it slip to the ground while her eyes never leave mine, and then sits on the sofa, making herself comfortable. Lifting her legs and sitting crosslegged towards me, all the while watching me thoughtfully as our eyes fight some unspoken battle. Her stare is calm yet intense in a way, with beautiful orbs filled with a mixture of blue waters and emerald fields, as if some of her energy was always drifting out. I know that she has a lot of thoughts roaming around in her mind, but I’m also aware that she will only speak of some.
“Do you feel better now?”
“I thought you sensed me just fine on your own.”
She grabs my elbow firmly until a sigh leaves my lips. I finish drinking and put the glass down. We stare at each other for a moment until I release her hold from me and put that hand to my cheek. This does not faze her as she is familiar with this gesture. I have known her for years, and we have been through a lot together. My eyes follow her as I sign with assurance.
“Yes, I feel better. Thanks to you.”
She smiles gently but then lets out an unstable rustle of air, the expression on her face changing to sternness as she removes her hand from my cheek, a strange kind of longing appearing in me from the lack of that touch. I hurriedly shake it off just before she communicates.
“You have to take those herbs so you can be safe. I need you to be safe.”
“I am safe.”
She takes my slightly burned hand and lifts it, sending me a look.
You call that safe?
She mouths, and I shake my head, suddenly annoyed again.
“I can handle myself and have been doing it for years without any help, a few scratches and bruises won’t stop me or make any difference.”
Instantly, I can see that I have said the wrong thing as her stare becomes concerned, almost hearing her heart flutter in a pained way as she signs gently.
Very slowly, I inhale, trying to keep myself calm.
“It’s nothing. Just some of my energy bounced off the wall and decided to make me as
My hands freeze in midair, uncertain for a moment, but then I continue, too tired to beat around the bush.
“W h e r e ?”
Her stare becomes even more concerned as she tries to inspect my body, all the bare surface she can see. I’m wearing a pair of white, skinny jeans and a dark blue top that holds itself only on two thin double straps, a delicate cotton bra peeking out from under it, the color of it matching my jeans. She touches my forearms, shoulders, then checks my elbows, her stare slightly frantic. I wait until she looks up at me and shake my head, trying not to concentrate on how her fingers feel on my blazing skin, and lift my shirt slowly, exposing my right side. Her quiet, almost silent gasp seems to fill the entire room as she reaches out her hand, gently touching the dark, nearly black bruises mixed with a deep blue shade that matches my shirt - an inside joke that I amused myself with today after examining myself in the mirror this morning. I hiss through my teeth as her touch both causes me pain and unexplainable soft pleasure. She looks up at me carefully.
“I can help you heal.”
Once again she touches the skin against my ribs and side, eyes glowing delicately as green flashes around the center of her pupils. I stop her just before the energy begins to move out of her, putting my hand over hers firmly.
No. Don’t. It motivates me. I need that if I want to fight.
She nods slowly, knowing how my nature worked and that there was no point in fighting against it. Instead, she puts my hand down on her thigh and strokes the bruised skin with her thumb and fingertips. God, the feeling of that - my eyes close, senses both calmer and swimming in irregular flames, restrains gradually snapping one by one. My eyes flash with light that reflects in her surprised stare. No hesitation, just the dark matter I breathe you in with. My body shifts, taking the most desirable position to what I want to do with her. Grabbing her hips by the sides, I pull her into me, spreading her legs and wrapping them around my back, hearing her silent gasp.
This is not a good idea.
She mouths slowly, putting her hands, palms down on the sofa, leaning backward, and trying to find some balance in the sudden chaos that I was causing.
The question leaves my lips, and she trembles slightly, feeling the vibrations from my voice.
Because we put our past behind us.
No. We just silently moved on as my life and destination, were chosen for me.
And nothing has changed since then.
She puts her legs down without any sound and shifts back. I stay in place, even though every part of me is burning alive, raging for her. But I am strong in many ways and can be still even as the world stands in flames. My chest expands and moves inwards as I watch her. Even in my darkest hour, I would never do anything that she wouldn’t want to be done to her, even if I constantly yearn.
Some things have. Something in me, it calls for you again.
She gazes at me, not scared or put off by my actions or words, just carefully processing everything that’s going on, including my touch on her, a blend of energies moving inside of her. I can feel it. It’s this deep rich flavor, so pleasing in its base. She shifts even further to speak with me with her hands and gestures. To be louder, more in control as she wants to be understood with clarity, leaving a mark in other people’s minds. She wants to mark her voice in my thoughts.
“And I heard you, that’s why I’m here.”
I lean forward against her, inhaling the smell of her skin, my hair tickling her arms. And then gaze at her as her hands once again rest on the sofa.
To help me with the situation.
Her lungs start to move a bit faster just before she mouths to me.
But that’s not all.
Of course, it isn’t.
My hand glides past her thigh slowly, moving from her knee, blue light sipping through my fingertips, leaving soft electric currents playing with her skin, with a craving body. Her back arches slightly as my hand slides up, teasing her, sending new waves to penetrate her fibers, the other hand sinking into the sofa by her side, head leaning against her chest as I listen, waiting for a familiar sound. New sparks leave the fingers that slide excruciatingly slow to the inside lines of her curves. Hunger growing with each small fraction that I move forward, deeper into her structure. Just one more tender touch and suddenly, I hear it, a subtle noise erupting from the lungs, moving up and escaping her mouth... an eco of a moan. I feel the bottom of my spine start to tingle, shooting static to my aching core. Like multicolored fireworks. Mmm, she could not hear her own wails of pleasure, but she could definitely feel them as they stirred the air around us. My hand drifts from the inside of her thigh to the waist, sinking my thumb by her stomach. Slowly, moving my energy in circles around the skin. She starts to purr without even knowing it, the sounds coming from her throat and seeming to swell in her cells as I feel those low vibrations surrounding me. Jumping from my fingertips, catching every nerve in my system, and very lazily devouring my soul.
I lean down by her neck, tasting the pulse under my starving lips, hips itching forward as I take my time, fingertips touching her stomach again. Writing on its surface in cursive, one letter after another, separating each word with a small caress. “Tell me to stop.” Very slowly, I move back and gaze into those dazed eyes; her pupils dilated, green lights flickering like tiny pieces of glass put against the sun. This time I mouth the words, both challenging her and wanting to hear permission. And if she won’t let me... then I will just move away as if nothing ever happened, even if my whole body ached for her. In the sweetest, most torturous kind of way.
Tell me to stop.
I whisper the words so low and in with a strange kind of heavy softness, that even I’m not fully sure if they left my mouth. Carefully, she lifts trembling fingers up my wrists, elbows, and then with surprising strength that I would never accuse her of, she grabs my arms and pulls me on top of her, letting out an almost primal sound. It vibrates as if a growl but is much lower, powered not that much by her voice, but by all of her body. Her lips part slightly and form just one word.
She mouths as her eyes whisper to me; don’t ever stop. My skin erupts both in waves of flames, and burning cold matter as if the entire ice on the planet started to crack. To the sound of our bodies. Our raging souls. The last bit of my restrain fades away from me and I grab her by the thighs, nails digging into the material of her pants and then deeper into her flesh, my hands pulling her hips even closer to me, the need to feel her throbbing core against me, clouding everything else.
You’re mine now. And no one else’s.
I whisper into her mouth slowly, knowing that she feels every word, her body shaking with a need that I want to satisfy, no matter how many times she asks. Even if eternity catches us unannounced. For now, there was just this moment and no black feathers in my lungs, just her breath giving me life.
Back at the cafe. The same day.
Mel’s urgent whisper brings me back to reality, as I look to the side just in time to notice a teacup swirling gently in the air just above the table, a small metal spoon gliding in the air next to it as if swimming on the surface of the water. As if swimming in endless space. I think just as the whole meaning of the situation hits me, anxiety levels kicking in. Sudden panic suffocates me and sucks the air out of my lungs, eyes widening with horror as the cup drops down to the table with a loud, attention-grabbing sound, while the spoon bounces off the wooden surface and falls right next to a customer’s feet. An older lady with white, short, and perfectly made curls looks down surprised, her expression quickly turning to displeased as she notices me. She carefully dusts away some crumbs from the corners of her lips while at the same time boring a hole into my forehead with her narrowed eyes. I mouth out “sorry” and quickly pick up the little loss and wipe the table from the spilled tea, a scarlet color with the speed of light covering my cheeks, neck, and cleavage. It’s always been that way whenever I got nervous, and nothing has changed in the last 22 years since I’ve been here. Unfortunately.
I sigh and quickly take everything back to the kitchen, glad that at least the beautiful china didn’t break, somehow I had a sentiment to that particular set and the little forget-me-nots that painted the fragile porcelain, their soft blue, purple, and pink colors always lifting my mood. Plus, my wallet already hurt at the thought of having to repay Mel for the damages. I owed her tons of cash - even if she didn’t want to hear about it. Either way, she’s going to find incoming money in her cookie jar soon. If she likes it or not. I smile and fill the washing machine with a new load methodically and then straighten my back, feeling it pop in protest.
What was that little show by the table? And with Miss Grant as an eye witness, may I add.
I jump and then sigh again.
I didn’t mean that to happen, you know that.
My arms cross as if I was a scorned child, and Mel rolls her eyes to the ceiling.
Don’t give me that attitude, we are not playing house here.
I groan a bit but then my mood deflates just as fast as it appeared.
Ray, I know perfectly well that you don’t have much control over your new... abilities. But my question was actually about something else.
My stare turns half curious, half cautious.
Why then? What caused it?
I don’t know.
Think about it.
Her voice is soft, yet still, my hands start to tremble just before I throw them in the air, frustrated.
I don’t know. I just don’t know. Why won’t everybody just leave me alone?! I did not sign up for this.
I grab the sides of the counter, bending over it and trying to breathe in a way that wouldn’t make me look like I’m going through an asthma attack of some sort. After a moment I feel a warm hand on my back and turn around slowly, staring at Mel’s gentle eyes. And suddenly I calm down, peace filling my body as if someone just turned off the stress button. Just like that.
I’m sorry, again. I’m acting like some spoiled brat. I know, I overreacted big time, but you know I didn’t mean it. It’s just that...
A very stressful time for all of us, it’s alright, hon. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere, okay?
I nod with assurance and relax some more.
My eyes follow hers and I shake my head.
I’m not sure... everything was normal, nothing out of the ordinary, I was just clearing the tables like I always do.
Her stare encouraging me to continue and I smile a little, so happy that I have such a good person in my life, I don’t know what I would have done without her. Okay, actually I do know. Most likely, I would end up an even bigger mess than I already am. Isn’t life just great? I gaze up at Mel, feeling deflated again.
Well, like I said, normal stuff.
I see something sparkle in her eyes, like an unexpected flash of white light, and quickly shake my head, annoyed that on top of everything, my mind is playing tricks on me.
I struggle to answer but then close my eyes, trying to find whatever it was that made something in me shift at that moment, focusing on what I was doing then step by step, concentrating on each little detail. Which honestly, surprises me a lot, since I have always been a very distracted and clumsy creature, unless I was cooking, only then did I manage to find the tiniest spack of grace in my messed up system. The rest of the time I was just a risk to society, annoying people with my clumsy sorry ass. I smile at the thought but then focus again, trying to touch something that constantly slips from my hands like something wet, sticky, and very alive.
What do you see?
Her soft voice reaches me, even if it seems somehow so far away. My mind drifts to all the things I normally do without even thinking; cleaning the tables, refilling coffee for the customers, making sure everyone has napkins, sweeping the floor, gathering the dirty dishes... my brain freezes for a second. That was the time when something changed. Mmm, I felt warmth. I swallow and shift uncomfortably. Not just warmth; fires. Slow flames consuming the room. Excitement, joy, tension. I felt... I look up at her and of course, feel my skin heat up, the deep pink color covering my skin without any mercy - I felt turned on. I think and stare awkwardly at my hands.
It’s as if the room was on fire.
Her eyebrows furrow together and her gaze turns concerned.
Did you feel any pain or discomfort?
No, uhm... definitely not. Mmm, the opposite, actually.
She looks a bit confused at me.
Uhm, pleasure. A LOT of it.
Her eyebrows lift almost to the ceiling.
Well then. I did not expect that, that’s for sure.
She sits down and looks to the side, lost in thought for a while. I pick a dishcloth and hold onto it tight, moving it in different directions, trying not to get lost in that energy.
I didn’t realize what I was feeling back then, it just... took over me, completely.
How did it feel?
She asks, this time sounding curious, and I roll my eyes at that.
Oh, where do I start?? Mel, I was practically swimming in it. It crushed me to the point that I couldn’t even move. It was crazy, out of this world, mind exploding, a ball over the park kind of moment! I never felt anything like that! Ever!
Yes, I can tell.
Her eyes follow mine as her stare becomes more intense.
You couldn’t move at that moment, Ray. But your energy sure could. If you would have stayed in it...
Then a lot more stuff would be flowing around.
Yes, including Miss Grant.
And her heavy attitude.
We look at each other for a tense moment but then burst out laughing without any warming, bending, and holding our stomachs.
That’s not funny, Ray. These are serious matters of...
She doesn’t even finish, as she starts to laugh again.
There you go, Mel. We gotta chill sometimes or this or we might go insane one day. I mean you, I’m already one foot in crazy land.
She nods and tries to steady her breath.
You’re right, but still, we have to work on your focus when something like that happens. We are going to start slow and concentrate on some...
I try to hold back a smile, knowing that meditation, yoga, and the spiritual side of things was her thing.
Don’t mock, you know it works. Knowing how to handle your energy and chakras can make all the difference.
Does Ben know what a fruitloop you are, or do you just only show yourself to him in red lingerie so he doesn’t notice?
She throws a dry dishcloth at me and I grab it without effort, grinning at her.
Well, do you?
I just tell him only the “need to know” option, and then I put a lot of lace and silk on.
She winks at me mischievously and steps out of the kitchen with a much lighter walk than before, as I smile at the door that closes behind her. Yet, despite the joking mood, I grow serious. What was that back then? And how can I possibly feel it again? I bite my lower lip and inhale deeper, my breath catching a few times. The energy on that, god, that was some powerful stuff. I will take a dose of that any day, just tell me where to sign up. My hands twitch a bit, as if yearning to touch something, to grab it, something calling me with an intensity that I have a hard time grasping. What’s calling me in such an amazing way? I need to find out, no matter how long it’s going to take. I need to consume it. The thought hits me like an earthquake, eyelids blinking like crazy. It was as if it wasn’t even me saying that. But it was me. What the hell? Why did I...? I breath faster but then throw the feeling away, afraid to sink in it, like everything else I seem to drown in since I met her. The realization hits me over the head and I slip to the floor, sitting down with a low thud, feeling the world spin. Finally, after some time I look up and notice Mel’s concerned eyes on me as she stands over me. I quickly shake my head and give her a tired stare.
Nothing. Sometimes, I’m it’s all just a bit too much, you know? That’s all.
I stand up and dust off the back of my skirt and grab a tray, getting back to myself again.
Are you sure?
Yes, now let’s get back to the real world.
I square my shoulders and give her a proper smile.
Weird shit or not, bills won’t pay themselves, right?
She smiles back and lets me leave without any further questions, and I couldn’t be more grateful for her at that moment.
chapter 14. https://theprose.com/post/408550/those-blazing-threads
The entire story:
my favorite fictional couple - emphasis on fictional
me and my imaginary boyfriend
source: my mind
will it ever come true? --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I know that a ship for Leo and Calypso is probobly very generic, but there love is irasistable. Leo risked his life for her. If you didn't know, Leo and Calypso are two lovers from Percy Jackson. It would be hard to list the reasons so if i werr you i would go read the percy jackson books
Let them become memories
Another page, another sentence, another story. Another day, can I stop writing just once? Maybe just reread the stories? Then stop adding more, because we don't need to go on, do we? Or maybe, maybe our stories were poorly written, errors upon errors, mistake after mistake. Maybe we should throw them out before we feel a nostalgic urge to keep them? If we stop writing them, they will become mere memories, a view into a life that no longer lives on, a moment of a world that now lies still. How beautiful it would be, to let them become memories, faded and almost forgotten pieces of the past.
Shall I pause for a moment to catch my breath?
I found this in a stack of old papers from the fall, I don't know what it is, or what I was feeling when I wrote it but here you go.
(So sorry, I usually don't post on here more than once a week or every other week but I had one more piece I would love some feedback on if you all don't mind? Thank you so much! Suggestions welcome :)
i've been desperately trying to fill that void,
that gaping hole in my soul.
when all i need was your kindness
to make me realise that i'm not alone
as i thought i was.
thank you, dear friend.
you've certainly made my day.
they are legend
the little girl was scared
but now she was terrified
and about to have
a panic attack
He kept her tight
in his arms and covered her
told her to calm down
and that everything will
be all right
It was 02:24 AM and the
the door and all around
the walls and windows
still carried on
And there were howls
curses and a constant sound
of nails scratching
“Daddy, I’m scared! I’m…”
“I know, dear, I know. But
you have to
calm down. Remember to focus
on your breathing like I told you.
Deep, deep breaths, okay? Deep. In
and out. I promise you,
tomorrow everything’s gonna
be fine. I swear.”
“Is it zombies?” asked the
“No, dear. It’s something else.”
“What’s it called?”
“An ex-girlfriend, dear.”
Always having lots of trees
Where lots of animals live
Such a green space
To maintain for a bright future.
questions within the walls
what if i want to be lonely?
what if this dark
isn't a prison
i've wanted all
if i did this to myself
and it's entirely
and i'm just in
staring at the paintings
on the walls
colors and numbers
and strange alphabets
trying to find meaning
wanting to get out
yet i locked
pick up lines
Do you like Star Wars? Because Yoda only one for me!
Yes, but you Luke a little young for me.
We’re not socks, but I think we’d make a great pair.
Too bad I’m more like a shirt; I work best alone.
Did you invent the airplane? Because you seem Wright for me.
No, I own a waterpark in Cali because I’m Knott.
Lol I tried... (^ u ^)
Magic in my Madness
You took away my magic,
Which flowed mercilessly through my viens.
Blood red velvet to arcane, undying black,
As you bound me to your chains.
You took the very thing,
From which my escape from your world grew.
Metal lacing the untouched stream,
and there was nothing I could do
You didn’t bottle it up,
Or simply just take it away,
No, you made me watch it disappear,
and forever they shall say,
“It’s sad that she grew up,
For she was never one to lose her soul.
But her tears of fire fall-
Lamenting all that they have stole.”
We live in a world of color,
But you trained me to see black and white
To follow the road too taken,
And to go without a fight.
But this pen and this paper are proof
That your poison shall never win,
For my words are a nimble serpent
and you are blind to the peril you’re in.
So see this fire within me,
Boil deep with a hatred smile.
Take a seat in my ashen heart.
Magic dripping from this exile.
You don’t know all that you have,
Hidden in this repugnant land,
But remember, you took my magic
And darling, I am mad.
**please read the caption :) **
#story #writing #colors #heart #poetry #poems #broken #soul #dreamers