I came really close to putting an open, honest, heart-felt post here. It was about how we’re all flawed and despite my looking confident (at least I think I do), I’m terrified, and paranoid, and worry about people hating everything I write. It was going to end on a happy note, about how we’re all a bit broken and that’s completely ok.
I decided that we’ve had a lot of openness and honesty and feels as of late, and I’m naturally a really closed person. Yes, a closed extrovert 😛 So instead of more feels, you’re getting random snippets 😀
Dacian’s story still isn’t quite forming in my mind, and it’s stressing me out a little bit, so I’m falling back on what I do in these situations – random snippets. I write single paragraph scenes, descriptions, whatever. They don’t have to fit in anywhere, or do anything, they just get me writing and feeling what it is to write again. So these are some snippets, all first draft, completely unedited, and might never go anywhere. 🙂
My thumb ran over the tender line down the centre of my left palm, an unconscious move that brought the lingering sting of old pain to mind. Cold rain dripped from the tips of my hair, slowly tumbling down my face leaving cold trails on my almost-numb skin. One phrase kept running through my mind on an unending loop as I looked over the city, “I just want to feel something real.”
Small flecks of light cut through the darkness, challenging the shadows to try and claim their small scrap of land. I knew, somewhere in the back of my mind, a cold and logical corner, I knew that I was supposed to feel. Something. Yet I felt empty, with nothing but a raw line across my palm as a reminder.
Every inch of her screamed to be touched, explored, and savoured. For a fleeting moment I envied the simple cotton dress that caressed the smooth lines of her figure. My mouth tugged into an involuntary smile, she was good, but not quite good enough. Her eyes flitted to her left, to the young man feigning nonchalance as she walked by. He stood in stark contrast to her attention grabbing fluid movements, every muscle tight with his hands driven down deep into his pockets. Poor little things, they had no idea who’s territory they were trying to play in. They would soon.
The blood sang under my caress, eager to burn, to twist and sharpen under my touch. It was a delicate process, dancing along the blade’s edge between the need to bend it to my will, and the desire to take the final step and embrace my nature in its entirety. Therein lay the fun.
It gnawed at me from somewhere deep inside, an itch that only one thing could scratch. I’d held out for two days that time, I was getting stronger, or so I told myself as counted up every last scrap of money that I could find. My heart skipped a beat as I thought about the soft buzz it would provide me, the slick viscous fluid sliding down my throat, easing everything away. The dull coins weighed heavily in my hand, judging me, reminding me of all the broken promises. One more, I just needed one more coin and I’d be free again.
I never did find that last coin.
They’d found me. It had stopped being a game and turned into something colder a long time ago. Footsteps crept down the hallway, whispers pooled below the window, they were learning. My bag of belongings was already in my hand before I’d realised I was reaching for it. I had one last trick left, a desperate play. There was no time to look back, the door shattered under their force as the pill slid down my throat. My feet found purchase on the window sill, I pushed off as hard as I could and squeezed my eyes shut against the bright sun. Pain exploded from my shoulders, air rushed past me, I didn’t dare look. I wasn’t brave enough to stare death in the face. My shoulders twisted and I began falling upwards. It’d worked. The pill had done as promised. I opened my eyes and laughed hysterically as I flew over the rooves towards the sun, I’d live another day.
As you can see I write really happy things 😉