these are the beginnings to the novels i'll never write.



these are the beginnings to the novels i'll never write.
three hundred sixty five stories that begin and never end.

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Showing posts with label lovely silence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lovely silence. Show all posts

Friday, March 5, 2010

Muse 49: Daze


He was crazy about planning - he didn't plan at all. Although I had the car and the steady cash, the promised future and a good luck past, he was the one who called in moments like four am and told me to pick him up on the corner of Dante's Pub. He was always the one barely clothed, yet if clothed at all, he wore the bare minimum. Greeting with a smile and a short thanks, he slid into the passenger seat and said, "Drive anywhere, just not home. I don't care where you go." Of course I took the road towards home, and so he snapped out directions that I begrudgingly followed until we ended up on a road with nothing but tree and trees for miles and miles. Somehow he got me to stop, I thought he had to pee, but he started walking into the forest. It was five am. So I parked my car and followed him, and he kept walking, and I followed in fear that he would disappear in the labyrinth and never return to me. He kept walking until it was six am, where the sun broke through the trees casting shadows and shades around us. Suddenly he stopped, with a crinkled frown, sobered but hung over, and asked, "I don't know where I'm going?" I smiled and caught up while he stood in stupor. I kissed his cheek and whispered that if anything, I knew how to get back.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Muse 36: Enchantment

found via loveyourchaos

"Everyone is waiting for it, you know?" she said, then licked her finger without missing a beat. The sliding drip of ice cream disappeared into her mouth, and the finger reappeared, pink and wet like a newborn child. Her actions are always so pure, completely natural. Every time she moved, the slight change in the air always brought her scent closer to my nose. She smelled sweetly, an entirely unintentional mixture of happiness and promise in one, of unadulterated joy, a freshly crushed grape from the first frost. And her hand, still wet, came down right next to mine as she took it gently, laughing at the strange sensation of her saliva cooling in the savannah heat. "I'm glad I don't need to wait."

And to keep the magic intact, I don't ask for clarification.