Saturday, March 20, 2010

They are only words

'What are you waiting for? They are only words after all...'

'No!'

The cavern seemed to echo with her thoughts, and her heartbeat resonated louder than she thought physically possible.

'They are not only words. You cannot convince me otherwise.'

Her heartbeat quickened because she knew the response even before the icy words taunted her with their venom.

'But it is not me that you need to convice.'

Her pale skinned face flushed red with a prickling rage, and she fell to her knees, begging for some other way. The prickles turned to a heavy pounding within her skull. She was laden with guilt, and utter hopelessness. Running somewhere deep and dark through Lady Elesaira's mind were desperate pleas, the likes of which she would never say. Could not ever say. Even thinking them was dangerous.

'I don't have the strength to fight you. I cannot win this, I am too weak inside. Please forgive me Deinah, your blood will forever be on my hands.'

Instead she swallowed hard and quieted the rogue voice inside her. However, the reviled Overlord might have already heard her. For all she knew, it might already be too late. Staring at the billowing red mass before her, she decided to stand her ground, she knew that she was dead either way...and so was the boy...

"I will not bow to your will, no matter the cost."

...To be continued

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Morbid fascinations

When I look at a shiny crystal wine glass, or a bell bottomed decanter, my thoughts trace the sparkling lip and I think about biting into the glass. The most tempting are the whisper thin ones, the ones that feel like they would shatter if you merely toasted them too hard. Sometimes I wrap my hand around them and wonder how much pressure I could exert on it, before it shattered in my hand.

After I smell the sulphur trail from a freshly lit match, I toy with the idea of letting it burn right down to my fingers. When I look at the ember after the flame has gone, I feel like pressing the tiny cinder into my palm.

The sight of a desk fan draws my attention to my finger, and I picture myself halting its whizzing motion with my flesh. You might think that an industrial fan might not interest me, but those ones compel me to lose a whole arm.

I lose all sense of reality for a moment upon sighting a meat grinder. I ponder the sight of a horrific mess, if I had somehow gotten myself trapped inside. The little flecks of mince and fat look not unlike what my own would resemble, if I were not able to get out.

Feeling the rush of air from a truck or a bus, brings my thoughts to my lost footing, and the bone splintering smash that would result in falling under the wheels. A vortex of oncoming headlights blinds me, even though I know it isn't really there. The nightmarish and panicked face of the driver, burned into my retinas, as the last thing I see.

Driving along a dark highway with only the streetlights for companions, I think about a sneaky embolism. It srikes without warning, causing me to careen over the edge of an eerily lit length of overpass. Or perhaps simply a haunting seisure, freezing my movements until just before I hit the pillar...

Monday, March 15, 2010

Blood from a stone

Click, click, click, the old familiar sound.

Thump, thump, thump, the rhythmic heartbeat quickened. The top of her throat closed up tightly, as though trying to keep the bile from its will to purge.

Click, click, click, loud enough so that she was well aware of the purpose. Each click conjured an image of a tiny hammer within the lock, settling in its tiny brass groove. One click closer to unlocked.

Click...correct, click...correct...click...

The arc of light spread as the door creaked open, and the click of the key was replaced with the click of the boot heel.

"My oh my, you have been waiting up for me, my love."

Hot needles prickled under the skin on her face, in a rush of anger and fear.

'Don't speak, don't say anything. Don't encourage it.'

A long audible breath inhaled as the next words were pondered. No encouragement was needed for tonight there was dire intent.

"My Lady, my love, my dark sorceress...Elsbeth."

The sparkling glint from the dagger tip only caused a brief moments dalliance, before the rage slithered forth in a hiss.

"That's not my name."

The intruder clenched a sinewy fist around the dagger, and the boot heel ground itself into the dusty concrete. Sandra knew that she should not have spoken. Especially not those words. Those four words were always so tempting to speak, but they provoked the worst encounters from her captor.

"You dare defy me still? How many times must I punish you for your insolence?"

Sandra began to tremble in fear as her captor trembled with excitement. As the footsteps drew nearer to her chained body in the dark corner, she wished that one of these nights her tongue would be cut out to save her from trying to oppose the onslaught.

...To be continued...