Sep 04 2008
Random Prose #1
It was a warm breath at the back of her neck. A poem committed to memory, yet never read. It stalked her - followed her wherever she went. Ever present, yet impossible to capture.
Sometimes quiet, like a low hum that murmurs in the background. Sometimes as tempetuous as a summer lightning storm, crackling against a sultry sky. Usually it was a persistant song that hung in the air and whispered her name. That hovered over her bed at night and crawled into her dreams - teasing her, caressing her and forcing her sleep-heavy eyes open. To look.
But it could not be seen with eyes - only felt in the everywhere of the space. Waiting. Holding its breath and pretending it wasn’t. It was a mirror toward which she reached and was met with a duplication of her own outstretched arm. The heat that emanated from that reflection back at her said, ‘yes, I’m here.’
And she had conversations with herself about it - hoping she was simply going mad and soon would find a medication to turn it off and send it packing. Though she knew it was not madness, nor hallucination - it was real and palpable, dimensional, tactile, smellable, tasteable. With the ability to travel over time and space effortlessly, finding her wherever she was, wherever she hid. It was a surge of heat that shot through her core, found the place where it could nest and call home.
