Thursday, 19 August 2010

The Silence and the Sea

She sat at the end of a long week. Staring from the brink of a chasm of chaos into silence. Like a siren it called to her, she concluded long ago there is something safe about it, the peace, the calm, the untouched perfection- assuming of course her own mind isn’t piercing the silence with a rumbling din of thoughts.

At this particular moment, it was the safer option, she was centred, nauseated by a week of active listening, sadly to conversations she wished she wasn’t having. The silence was a welcome retreat.
There are different types of silence. There are those that are glossy, shiny and bright- these are not sought but inflicted, when you look up and realise those around you left long ago, and you are staring back at your own reflection in the mirror.

There are dark silences, sought by those the world does not understand, full of confusion and rage, chained to ideas that can never be set free, black tidal waves engulf those who stray there rewarding them with self pity and loneliness.

Matt Silences, like dulled sound waves- they exist in the busiest of places, like the middle of a city in the middle of the day in a busy station- and yet those who live there cannot be heard or hear. They are invisible despite being in full view.

She was being seduced by a sinking sand of silence- not deadly but warm, a beach to walk along and lose the few active thoughts she had left. It all suddenly seemed so pointless. The warm sea breezes danced through her hair and as she moved her hand to push it from her face the action took her back to him.

He had done that in the past.

She remembered how he stood behind her in the moonlight and wrapped his arms around her waist pulling his arms and taking her breath for a moment- and then he kissed her neck, she remembered her head spinning for a moment as he took her weight in his arms and kissed her more. She fell to her knees as he gently let her go kissing her on her head before he too started to sink to the ground, the moon illuminated the sea as she sat on the sand, allowing the black waves to saturate her skirts like oil spilling and bubbling around her. She lay back, feeling the ebb and flow of the tide gently saturating through her clothes and permeating her skin.
He gazed down at his siren, his shadow casting across her, he too was pulled down to meet the midnight energy.

She opened her eyes as she felt the weight of his body mirroring hers, instinctively their bodies moving as one.
Not a word was spoken as their lips met, connecting an electric current through their bodies, as the water continued to push and pull around them.

13th August 2010

Saturday, 12 June 2010

Questioning Eve

“So, you imitated us?”
“No? “
“No, its not like that”
“Then tell me how it is, because I’d really love an explanation right now”
She lifted her hand to her brow and slowly rubbed her forehead, the intensity of everything was crashing down around her. This must be what a press conference is like, she thought to herself. Except this wasn’t a press conference. It was one way. He was asking for answers but they both knew he already knew the answers and it didn’t look good for her.

She couldn’t bring herself to look up, but she knew she had to. Their eyes met briefly before she tore them away- it was electrifying. He was staring directly into her soul deep inside her but the rage and jealousy reflected in his gaze was palpable.
She was on her knees desperately trying to retrace her steps.

He gave an exasperated sigh. “Have you ANY idea how I feel?!”
With this she felt a knot in her stomach. She realised she had always kept him at arms length, never truly letting him in.
“All I wanted was for you to be happy, it was ALL FOR YOU!”
Her chest tightened as she heard the raw emotion spilling out of him.
“Even now, even now you can’t even tell me! LOOK AT ME!”
She couldn’t move. She was rooted to the spot in the front room, on her knees.
She was acutely aware of life around her, in the distance she could hear childrens voices playing and the birds were singing. It was a beautiful day, and yet she was outside of it all, outside of time itself.

“What went wrong between us? It could have been so good- I would have given you what you needed, you could have been so happy. Yet instead……..instead, you took my gifts to you- and gave them away, wasted them. With people you could never have, they would never understand you or make you happy, not like I could have done.”
With that he sat down.
She started to cry. “I’m so sorry” she whispered “I don’t know what else to say”
He continued his voice heavy with sorrow “I gave you the world. It could have been so perfect……..I loved you”
Quietly she began “This is all my fault….I know….. I am so sorry. It just…….wasn’t enough for me” Her gaze was still fixed on the square of carpet directly in front of her. She sensed him stiffen and slightly turn towards her. “WASN’T ENOUGH?!” He sighed and his body relaxed again “It was all you could have hoped for and more”.

She lifted her eyes to look at him his head was in his hands and he was crying silent tears. The knot grew more, tears welled in her eyes. The realisation of how she had at first distanced herself, then ignored him until such a point where she had just about abandoned him. Would she have remembered him if he hadn’t shown up today? She always came back to him eventually, usually when the chips were down, when she needed something from him. How materialistic she had become. In his presence, all of that seemed so irrelevant, so…..vain. All of a sudden, other people didn’t seem so important- their ideas and values, their understanding and perception of her, seemed so utterly useless. Their testimony of her would be of no relevance to him. He didn’t know them, so how could he take their word for anything?
“You know me better than I know myself” he didn’t move. The pain across his face said enough. She wanted to touch him, to extend something of herself to him, to comfort him, yet she couldn’t, she had no right. She lost that privilege a long time ago.

“You don’t need me” she said.
There was a pause as the truth of the words settled in the room.
“True” he whispered finally, “I don’t need you” he looked directly at her “But I want you….because I love you.”
“Please don’t leave me” she whispered tears streaming down her face.
“Because I DO need you.”

13th June 2010

Friday, 7 May 2010

Scenario Project (Me): The Elevator

She glanced at him and they erupted into fits of giggles. Judging by the way her breasts were angled, nothing other than her usual vintage lingerie could create her signature "Bullet Bra" shape.
That and she was a stickler for matching sets, in her book comando was something to do with the military, ladies should not go out without pants. Ever. She leaned into him and kissed him on the lips, her whole body touching his, she purred as he responded, loving the energy being created between them. The elevator probably contained CCTV, they were probably being watched by security in windowless rooms with only donuts for company. She couldn't care less, he had unleashed her and she felt high on adrenaline.
The elevator pinged to indicate they had reached the lobby, she spun round to face the opening doors and they both exited.

It was still relatively quiet, there were a couple of people using the phone booths over by the vending machine and someone using one of the vending machines, the main flurry of activity came from the token group of Europeans decanting from their hot coach transfer to the hotel check in, half dragging/half wheeling their suitcases through the rotating doors. It looked like some package holiday deal, they all looked older and from their broken english appeared to be German.

The lovers passed by, noticed by no one, but then, what was there to notice- they were in the city that never sleeps, there were far more colourful characters and pairings in this city than them.
They used the side door to avoid battling the revolving doors and the stop-start of the Germans and their luggage.
As they stepped onto the sidewalk she felt his hand take hers. Her heart skipped a beat. He would never know, but this was one of those small things that was amplified to her. She often longed to walk hand in hand when she was back home, it is one of those rare things that can only be done with a lover. Friends couldn't hold hands- it was too close and the wrong sort of relationship. She had many friends, but she would never be able to hold their hands. It would change things.
He could hold her hand. She cast her mind back to last night, when she curled up in bed with him he kissed the top of her head. This was another one of those affectionate gestures that can only be given in love to a total submissive. Traditionally parents take this role, and later in life lovers can take up the mantel, its not even close to sexual but the implication runs far deeper.
As they walked she matched his pace, she was tall in her red patent heels, he commented on that just after meeting in the airport yesterday. On the otherhand she appreciated his smart turn out. He was military, that was clear enough, he couldnt escape his roots.

"What would you like for breakfast?" she asked him
He gave a quizzical smile and paused "I thought I'd eaten already"
She blushed slightly "Calm yourself! don't want to get me started again do you?"
He paused to pull out his cigarettes, he raised one eyebrow "Is that a question or an offer?"
"I'll choose to ignore that!"
He smiled expelling smoke through his nose. "All right, you win" he said taking back her hand.
As she took it he pulled a little making her stop and glance back to him.
"Helen, what is going on with you, I want to kiss you all the time" from his face she could see he meant it.
"You don't have to ask, you can have whatever you want"
"Ooo be careful what you wish for honey, you might just get it AND some besides"
"Well, right now, I can honestly say I want a decaff coffee and a toasted bagel"
"Decaff? Whats the point of coffee if its decaff?"
She rolled her eyes and tugged his hand, "Decaff, thats my final answer!"

5th May 1.27

Scenario Project (Him): Hotel Showers

He pulled her on top again and they kissed a slow steamy kiss, not one of just the mouth and tongue, but a kiss everywhere their bodies touched: hand to hand, bare breasts to bare chest and more.

She had deftly positioned herself on top of his hardness; he felt her heat summon his desire. The thin fabric of his shorts and her pajamas seemed to disappear ... he could merely thrust his hips forward ...

He broke the kiss and their eyes met.

"Do you know what I want?" he asked.

In a soft voice she asked, "No. What *do* you want?"

"Breakfast!" he said with glee.

And he ticked her sides and she laughed, squirming away before he could get a hold of a foot.

He picked up her camisole and held it out like a matador's cape, taunting her with a smile.

She held her fingers up like horns and made a laughing charge at the fabric.

And he ticked her some more.

She snatched back top and covered breasts with look of mock pouting.

He opened the door to the adjoining hotel room, and motioned with his thumb, and said, "Into the shower, you."

She raised her eyebrows and gave him a come-hither smile.

"Like to wash my back?" she said.

"We'll see," he said dryly.

The embraced again and he held her breasts in his hands, giving each nipple a tease with his mouth, then lingering on a final kiss on her mouth. He turned her toward the door and gave her a little pat on the behind.

"Be that way," she said.

She pulled the door shut, blowing him a kiss.

When the door closed, he noticed how hard his heart was beating.

"What a woman," he thought to himself.

He started the water for the shower and stepped out of his shorts.

In the next room, he heard her shower running. And he imagined her naked in the warm sudsy water.

Then he looked down and had an epiphany: "Ah," he thought. "This is how spontaneous combustion happens - an erection like this and you simply burst into flames."

He turned the water in the shower down as cold as he could stand it.


They met in the hallway outside their rooms. The space had that quality of sameness shared by every modern hotel hallway around the globe. As if the world were a stage, and the set designers keep reusing using the same set for every hotel hallway scene.

She emerged from her room with a little flourish and he kissed her on the cheek.

As usual, she was impeccably coifed and radiant. She wore a knit sweater that favored bust line and a skirt with buttons up the front.

Hand-in-hand they walked to the elevator. When the doors slid closed, he said in his most formal, interrogative tone: "One question I must ask, Miss. Are you wearing any underwear?"

Looking straight ahead with a Mona Lisa smile, she responded slowly, "Maybe."

May 4th 21.36

Scenario Project (Me): Hotel Mornings

She stirs; instinctively she knows this is not her bed. Those are not the usual noises. In fact there should be no noise. It should be quiet. She opens her eyes, instantly she remembers- him.
She is in New York , she arrived yesterday, they both did from their retrospective home lands.
New York was a metaphor. It was the place where they could be together in an otherwise unlikely relationship.
Her brain began to wake up; as usual it started with her eyes, and then worked its way down her body like a snake curling its way around her upper body down to her legs, causing her to stretch slowly.

As she allowed herself to gently stretch out she felt his arm wind across her waist. Her camisole had moved in the night and as his hand slid over the satin, it found a space where the material from her pyjamas and her camisole had parted. His hand was warm but her body was warmer, the sensation of physical skin on skin contact caused an electric reaction that snapped her awake in a moment. She sensed him hesitate- unknown territory.

Although they had slept in the same bed last night, it was only sleeping and in part due to her. She arrived at his hotel door in the night desperate to share space with him. It was beyond sex, sure it would have been easy to have instigated all night orgasms with a few blow jobs in for good measure, but this was more than that. More than sex? Wow, she never thought that was possible- naively she always believed sex was the end game. But that was before him. Before she even realised she was being seduced, before he worked his way into her subconscious and showed her just what sexual energy could do. It was pure mental stimulation; pure like the neatest vanilla extract and its aroma drove her to places she had only read about in books.

What to do now….she sensed this could change things but there is something about early morning dalliances that forgave in a way that the night did not.
His hand was still poised; in that moment she turned to face him and before he could say a word she kissed, she kissed him with an urgency, it was lustful in its approach, it was needy- but not for sex. She needed him to understand how he made her feel. Their lips were parted and their tongues began to explore each others mouths, again. They had played this game yesterday, when they met and straightaway she liked the way his mouth fitted to hers, the way he kissed her and held her hair firm in his hand as he did so. Her body began to climb on top of him, her thighs straddling him, she held his face in her hands- her breathing increased, his did too, she was aware of his excitement she was equally aroused but curiously that was not why she was doing it. She wanted this space, this moment, this morning.
Deftly he slid her camisole over her torso revealing her breasts. Their lock broke only for a second, enough to discard the satin garment and hungrily feed back to each other, his hands now in free reign over her chest. No hesitation now. Her nipples gave that much away. She pushed down, the weight of her body on his, the swell of her breasts pushing into his chests, her lips moved from his mouth around to his neck, her hand holding his face. She came to a resting position with her head on his shoulder.

“Wow” he said “That was the best wake-up call ever”
She giggled “Good; that was the idea”
“I love your breasts”
She looked twisted and lay on her back looking down at them “Yeah…..So do I”

4th May 2010 18.21

Scenario Project (Him): First Evening

With the day’s events spinning in his head, he looks at the ceiling of the Manhattan hotel room. The lights of neon signs provide an abstract play of light and dark above. He is happy, very happy.

The down comforter is soft, but it does not help him sleep. “Woosh,” he thinks, “I am head over heels.”

He is vaguely aware of the hum and hiss of the traffic on the street below. He starts to drift of to sleep, thinking of her, enchanted by her charm and intellect.

Softly: “knock, knock, knock,” comes from the door to the adjoining room.

“Sigh,” he says to no one in particular.

He unlocks the door and finds her standing there barefoot, in a lavender camisole and orange flowered pajama bottoms.

She looks at the floor with a sheepish grin, “ I couldn’t sleep.”

“Please, Helen, come in,” he says.

He beckons her with a sweep of his arm and opens up the covers of the bed.

She scoots in to the downy bed with an almost, but not quite inaudible giggle.

He follows her and slips into bed.

He pulls her close to his chest and curls up with her, his arm over her side.

The aroma of her hair is intoxicating; he kisses the top of her head.

He murmurs, “Sweet dreams, my love.” And he thinks he can feel her smile.

Mingled with the sounds of the traffic below, he hears her breath assume the cadence of sleep. He is happy, very happy.

And side-by-side, like the ellipsis of a quotation mark, they slumber together.

3rd May 2010 4.13am

Scenario Project (Him): Stage One- the Meeting

The Scenario Project is a series of short pieces of writing written by me and a close male friend. In turn we both write follow on pieces of the story assuming the roles of the lead characters. The author is identified in the title.

Terminal 4, John F. Kennedy International Airport
Saturday, 1:30 p.m.

Amid the chaotic bustle of the arrival hall, he stands outside the exit from customs. He scans every face, looking for her, but it’s too early; her 747 should have just touched down.

Glancing in his reflection of the glass, he adjusts his jacket and stands up straight. “I hope I look okay,” he wonders. Looking back is a man of indeterminate age, six-feet tall, military haircut, sport coat, white dress shirt, black jeans and running shoes. “We’ll,” he thinks to himself, “I am what I am.”

The man’s cell phone announces an incoming text and he flips it open to read: “We just landed XXX.” His insides respond with a sudden flush of butterflies, arousal … and a touch of apprehension. He knows her so well, yet, perhaps? He tamps down his doubt.

It’s going to be a few minutes for her to work her way though the Kafkaesque thrash of baggage claim, customs and immigration. He tries to manage the anticipation with Zen-like thoughts of nature scenes and peaceful water – it isn’t working. So he distracts himself with practical matters. One more time, he reviews the folder of documents that outlines their holiday:

- Reservations for two adjoining rooms in a small hotel on West 81st Street
- Check
- Pair of tickets to the Broadway show “Wicked”
- Check
- Tickets to MoMA
- Check

There’s more, but he puts the papers away and goes back to the Zen space. It’s better now. Time passes. He’s feeling the effects of the six hour flight from San Francisco, but he know her eight hours from Heathrow (not counting the train ride), has got to be rough. That, and her body clock says it’s 6:30 p.m. The joys of international travel – it’s a fuzzy blur.

The sound level in the hall goes up a notch as Customs disgorges a new wave of passengers. He scans the crowd.

And there she is, with her radiant smile. His heart races.

They run to each other, but stop, their spheres of personal space just ever so slightly overlapping.

A pause.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” she said.

He steps inside her sphere, and with his finger, gently draws her crimson lips close.

Their lips touch, tentatively. A little kiss; a peck.

They look at each other and kiss again.

Lips part, tongues dance.

He runs his fingers through her hair as their bodies embrace.

They alone, together; anticipation, heated by their touch, becomes passion.

They come up for air and look into each other’s eyes, smiling.

The lovers look around to see if they’re making a scene, but apparently nobody even notices them. Good.

“Let’s do that again,” he says.

They embrace again, this time more slowly and sultry.

He takes his hand and subtly, gently, cups her breast. He imagines he can feel her nipple hardening through the clothing.

“I knew you were going to do that,” she says. And they both laugh.

He picks up her suitcase, and offers her his arm.

“Let’s grab a taxi,” he says.

And arm in arm, the lovers stroll out towards the mid-day New York sun.

1st May 2010 3.19am

Evening in a new city

She lay in her hotel bed. It was after midnight, yet there was general muffled noise of people getting in further down the corridor.

She went over the evening in her head, they had been out for dinner, 2 foreigners in a new city. They had lots of fun, those kind of moments where you are so happy inside your eyes act as camera lenses and your brain is the shutter, in a moment it captures the scene and instantly processes the images to a memory bank in your head, for access at a later date. At this moment they were still so fresh to her. When she shut her eyes and concentrated she remembered his laugh, the way he watched her intently when he listened, the quirky way he noticed the small things like the menu font or the way the candle flame stretched itself elegantly.

He was an Alpha Male and he made her think in a way unfamiliar to her, there were boundaries, but nothing they didn't already know about. When they were together though, it was hard to explain- it was as if those lines were there, yet not there. They never wanted to abuse or overstep them, but they wanted to step on them now and again.
All she knew was she needed to be around him, he was infectious, like the way in which a song can leave a radio and curl its way into your head for a day, so he filled her mind her thoughts, her breaths, her ideas.

She wished he was still with her now in this room, only this arrangement was more....appropriate.
She rolled onto her side- picked up her mobile and composed a text...."still awake? can't sleep XX"

A few moments passed and her phone sprung to life illuminating the room, instinctively her eyes opened and her fingers were already accessing the message "Yes, me neither, fancy a chat?".
"Sure, come across".

She waited, poised like a prey expecting to be discovered. She heard a few muffled noises and the click of his hotel door across the hall. She walked to the door and opened it as he began to knock. "Hello" "Hello Bob, come on in" He smiled at her and she began to feel better, the room felt less vast as he entered into it.

He stood facing her close enough to study all her expressions and body language quite clearly. "Are you ok?" he asked her.

Yeah I'm good, its that paradox where I'm really tired but I couldn't sleep, thoughts going round in my mind"

"Oh? Bad dreams?"

"No no just thinking about this evening and how great it was and how great you were and you and, and....."
She bit her lower lip and glanced to the floor, accutely aware that it had happened again. Fatigue was her giveaway, she could always be depended upon to be truthfully honest when questioned in a tired state of mind.

"Me?" she glanced up and caught the flickr of a smile that ignited a light in his eyes.
"Yes, you know, I just meant.....I....."
What did she mean? She didn't even know what was happening anymore, all she did know was the man in front of her meant a great deal to her, more than she had realised.

"Shhhh" He placed his index finger over her lips. "I know, but right now Sleeping Beauty its time for bed "
With that he pulled her slightly forward and kissed her on the top of her head.
"Are you staying here?" She asked.
"Do you want me to stay here?"
"Then I will." With that he climbed in beside her, turned out the light and wrapped his arm around her waist.
She sighed quietly and closed her eyes.

24th April 2010 1.11am

Monday, 3 May 2010

An alternate reality

He'd arrived but he was late; damn work. The guilt was all over him, he'd already called her, told her he was on his way.
He scanned the bar looking for her. There she was, reading, absent-mindely circling her drink with her straw.
He approached her table still tense with guilt. He walked over to the table she was sitting at, she looked up.
"Baby I'm sorry, work was crazy, I tried to get away 3 times but I......"

"Shhhhhh" She stood up to greet him, placed her index finger over his mouth. "Your here" with that she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. "Mmmmm"

He loved that. The way she could completely stop him in his tracks with one word, one action. For a moment he was paused, not quite knowing what to do next. She must have read his mind. "Are you hungry?"
"Actually I am"
"Great, lets eat dinner here"
He sat opposite her at the table, feeling the cares of the week ebbing away. She was asking him about his day, telling him about interesting things she had seen that day, listening when he spoke, he loved the way she spoke with her hands, every now and again, she would place her hand on the back of his hand that was on the table. Her touch was soft.

She was aware she was talking too much, but she couldn't help herself, she was so excited to see him, she wanted to hear all about his day, and tell her about hers. She touched his hand now and again when she spoke. She wanted to hold his hand but she didn't have the confidence.

The waiter brought their food across and broke the connection to her hand for the time being.
He spoke over dinner, told her about his day, how great that it was finally the weekend. How he was looking forward to spending real time relaxing with her.

This had turned out to be one of those trips she would remember forever. It was the first time they had met in real life, despite knowing each others most intimate thoughts. He was very much as she'd imagined him to be, maybe a little quieter. He was a thinker.

He gazed at her as she finished her dessert. Chocolate ice cream. How he wanted to be that spoon right now. He could feel his energy coming back. Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight, he loved her laugh, it was infectious- she made him smile.

She could feel herself coming to life. Always at night when the stars came out to play. She was a night owl, she enjoyed walking with him at night. Tonight felt different though. A different energy. She wanted to relax with him instead. Share intimate space. Safe.

He finished his coffee, as she finished her tea. "I'll be right back, I'm just going to the bathroom" "no problem" he said. She looked cute in her red dress, he watched her walk to the restrooms and go inside.
Whilst she was gone he settled the bill.
A few moments later she came back to the table.
"I've settled up, you ready?" he said as he stood up.
"Oh!- thanks hunny" she kissed him again, only this time he was ready. As she pulled back he quickly placed his arm around her and held her there a few more seconds. He felt her slightly falter, her weight in his arm. As they pulled apart he looked at her, she gave a wry smile and looked at the floor, "Lets go"

The air outside was cooler, it had gone dark although it wasn't late.
They walked over to his car and got in. "Where do you want to go?" he asked.
"Well, I don't know" he voice trailed off as she looked out of the window.
"You tired baby?" He reached out and touched her thigh as he asked. He saw her react a little.

She felt a pulse of electricity again, this time in hr thigh. They had finished their meal and as they were getting ready to leave, she drew up the confidence to kiss him. He reacted favourably, holding her in for a moment. She felt her head spin slightly as he did it, little sparks went off inside her. She got a grip of herself as they walked out of the restaurant.
The cold air sobered her mind slightly but it was the end of the week. All she really wanted to do was relax. The combination of a full meal and relaxing company compounded the need to kick back.

Instinctively she moved her hand to his, "Lets go back to the hotel"
She closed her eyes and curled into the passenger seat. He smiled "No problem".

He pulled the car onto the highway and smiled to himself as he glanced to see her curled up next to him. Her perfume filled his head and he felt intoxicated by her.

28th April 2010 11.28pm

Tuesday, 23 February 2010

Reality Check

You know that image you have in your head, the one where he shakes his head at you when you've screwed up, a bit like a loving grandad, wanting to discipline but not quite able?

Well....You've got it all wrong.

Think back to those times, when your so upset you could explode, when all the emotion gets too much and you feel you cant make sense of it and you just want to scream from deep within your very soul.

Your on the right lines. This is how your making him feel.

What do you mean when? You know very well when, when you willingly participate in activities that he specifically asked you not too. Imagine how you'd feel if you asked your children to stop indulging themselves in things that waste their time, only they never listened properly and decided to go ahead all the time.

Sunday, 31 January 2010


"I've always been in love with you, I guess you've always known, I took your love for granted why oh why the show is over say goodbye.....take a bow"

She woke up with a start, realising that for the 3rd month consecutively she went to sleep without speaking to him. The man she was supposed to love with all her heart.
There was something about statistics that made sense of those clouds in the brain, those "I can't remembers" or sketch timeframes. If she was totally honest with herself she hadn't spoken to him in about a year.

When she let her mind think about this a terrible guilt overwhelmed her. She knew this from the past, before she got close to him, before she knew better.

That was part of the problem, the illogical beauty of rebellion. She knew what it felt like to be around him, to interact with him, to recognise him and get excited at the thought of all the plans he had, he was ambitious, much more than she ever could be...

...When she let herself think about it, she loved the theory, the control he had, the seamless ease at which life played out. Yet the honest truth was lack of control was a hinderance to her. She worked within her own control, which ultimately placed boundaries, to let people in......and let her out.

These rules that formed through control had become small at first, like tidy little picket hedges creating a logical sense for rhyme and reason. They soon grew to be important to her, both in meaning and concequently in height, soon she couldn't jump over them anymore, they had become too high.
So she remained trapped, unable to even see him.

Sometimes if the wind blew the right way she thought she heard his voice, calling to her. Sometimes people had passed on messages, telling her he was asking about her.
Inside her, somewhere underneath doubt and guilt she knew, if she called him, if she actually took the time out to ask, he would knock down these walls and would rescue her.

Before she ever got around to asking him, she had fallen asleep again, telling herself she would definately think about getting over this wall tomorrow. Another day had passed, and so he remained, on the other side of the wall, longing to see her, to ask her how she was getting on, to tell her that he loves her.

Would this night be the night, alone in the dark......

Monday, 25 January 2010

The Flame.

“You should have picked up the first time” and there it was. That voice. His voice, instantly recognisable, smooth and completely compelling. She hadn't expected it to be him, and for a brief second, she was caught unaware, paralysed a million memories of before shooting to the forefront.

And then she remembered herself, and their game. A wry smile made its way to the corner of her mouth as she asked him politely and professionally to call back later......she wasn't alone. This conversation would require all of her attention and she couldn't afford to be overheard

It had started earlier that week. After perusing her inbox for the daily dose of spam vs. junk she paused over one particular London based sale email. Her mind went to him, in his little London bubble, and without thinking she was hitting the forward button, she drafted the usual 'saw this and thought of you' excuse and duly hit the send button having passed through her thoughts and thinking no more of him.

Not long later she had a reply, from him. She half expected a response, he was too professional not to acknowledge the receipt, her eyes skimmed the reply and then stopped short. The last sentence almost stood straight off the screen.

“In hindsight I am seriously wondering whether I was in love with you in my own odd way."

She snapped herself back, convinced her imagination had concocted such an unexpected outburst.

Her last efforts to engage him in a rendezvous had resulted in a spectacular shortfall and although disappointed she accepted it. She read it again. There is something quite startling about the aesthetics of black text on white. To read something in black and white, the starkness of facts moulded into words using the harshness of black and embedded, pressed into sheets of virgin white.

It was there it happened, all those memories flooding her mind like photographs spinning to such a pace that it caused a tiny ignition inside. And she knew it.

Immediately she was forming her response, politely skirting the issue yet desperate to mention it.

Common sense was starting to prevail, and by the time she pressed send, she realised he was still a memory, a nice reminder today of what could have been back then.

Yet the fire was not diminishing.

She emailed him back from work, beginning to remember more as their contact grew more frequent, like re-connecting, re-familiarising herself with him all over again.

And then he rang her, and the sound of his voice connected more parts to the puzzle.

This morning she awoke with him on her mind, she could almost reach out and touch him, she could feel him touching her. She could feel his desire almost tangibly on her skin. Later that morning, she questioned herself, slightly disappointed that she could be so easily pulled back, yet at the same time ecstatic that she was being pulled back. Was it backwards? Or were they just headed for those places they had been too afraid to admit before?

That night he called her, they talked again, he admitted things, she did the same. Both of them had their own insecurities and frustrations from the other. The future is unwritten. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, she felt his hand on her thigh.

Tears in the rain.

Nobody notices tears in the rain.

She sat alone in the hotel room, it was one of the better hotels yet the lights seemed gloomy. The light cast down over her seeping into her mind, her thoughts.

She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror- strangely familiar yet startlingly unexpected. She studied critically- tear washed cheeks smudged red by constant wiping away- she sniffed for the hundredth time. They say the eyes are the window to the soul; her soul must be drowning- the glassy eyes stared back.

Anger fleetingly passed through her mind startling like a lightning bolt, she hated low emotions.

She took a shower hoping the effect of more water to her saturated soul might revive a renaissance of life.

Her mood that night was reflected in the weather- it was dark and the rain was falling- not heavy, more of a spray fine mist falling like a muslin blanket over the streets of London.

She looked up to the stars, a pinprick of light but the rain misted her vision her tears became camouflaged- invisible.

The warmth of the restaurant windows seemed misplaced yet luring- she was escorted to a seat in the window whilst the waiter lit her candle, she gazed into the orange flame……..


She stares blankly at the screen, the PC is full of data but like the Matrix she fails to see what is there, her eyes focus between the lines, she has perfected the art of reading without processing.

Her mind has been in rewind most of the day, like a bad trip she remembers the soft lighting, his voice, the concern in his voice, the pain in her heart, the terrible pain that inevitably leads to tears.

Those tears, soft and subtle yet hard and obvious.....her give away.

She closed her eyes trying to erase the situation, she tried to cast her mind back to those walks, the all-night conversations, the sly kisses, the closeness, the way he engaged her mind, exciting her deeply......

She had fallen for him, she had resigned herself to this fact a while ago, yet the realisation of the fact had left her feeling vulnerable. In her weakness he seemed strong, distant almost, he had told her he wanted to help her yet she didn't even know how she could help herself. She had told him she felt empty, empty and a terrible sense of failure had overwhelmed her beneath the sea of tears.....she was drowning, she lay down and slept.

With the morning comes the light, this signals a temporary death and dispersal to the darkness and the associated entities that live in the dark depths, plaguing the imagination.

Her day had started with remorse, it had discovered a shaded area of her mind, free from the light and whispered to her mind, gradually as she had grown stronger she was able to light up her mind with good thoughts and ideas. Remorse had died for the time being.

Where was she now.....not on fire as she had been, but she was shining. She thought of him, she told herself the truths he had told her and was contented.

Her heart still ached for him.

The End.

She could feel the tears pricking in her eyes.
She knew this was going to happen.
‘’Can I have a word’’ he’d said. A word. The expectation itself meant more than just a quick hello.
He was sincere. She had listened. Neither of them could give each other eye contact, a complete juxtaposition to the last time they had been in each others company.

She looked at him; he’d had his hair cut. He knew she liked the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck- yet they had all been cut off- as if defiant towards her. He was wearing the jacket she advised him to buy, he looked good. Again she felt a pang of a memory both made and unmade, what was and what could have been. The tears pricked again.

She tried to remain upbeat, she told him she liked the way his hair fell at the front; he rejected the compliment. She told him she liked the way he looked in his jacket. He didn’t respond. She told him that at least he’d look good whatever else happened. He didn’t say anything.

He looked vulnerable and yet he was in control, he knew what he had to say and it had to be said there and then.

She admired that, at least he kept it quick and to the point, like removing a plaster.

He told her he had to let go, let go of her and what was and what could have been. He told her it was going to be hard, his feelings were still the same but there was nothing he could do to convince her.

She nodded silently; she looked over her shoulder, allowing herself a brief moment to wipe away the tears that were threatening to fall- her giveaway.

She looked back, she nodded again- she told him that was the right thing to do. Despite hearing herself, she noted how detached and objective those words were. It was one of those times when logic and rational prevail- emotion has no place here. This was the pain, the pain of those words cutting away at the romantic notions of a life and love that could have been.

He had to leave; he said he had things to do, work that could not wait. She stepped forward and embraced him, she felt the memories of that familiar embrace drain, like revisiting a familiar dwelling many years later- the immediacy of the feelings they had known were no more. They had reached that fork in the road and they were on a different course.


Night Dreams

She preferred to think of herself as a night owl, one of those nocturnal creatures that came alive at night when the moon ruled the skies and the stars danced and shone over the expanse of the skies.

Most nights the stars embraced her company, lighting up her thoughts and inspiring her mind to wander and dream, and listening to her plans whilst the moon looked down approvingly. But then there were some nights when the clouds came between her and the stars the darkness took hold of her, slowly winding its way around her and absorbing her mind with abstract confusion that sent her deeper into the darkness unable to see the light.

There hadn't been many of these nights lately which she was glad about. She was absorbing her thoughts with him, every aspect of him.

She hadn’t been sure at first, whether she could risk that which she had spent so long protecting, solitary un-taming can be a wonderful thing, running through the fields of your own ideas and pushing to climb to new heights. She had learned to embrace the freedom with a joyful spirit.....but when the clouds came even she could not escape the despairing depths of loneliness.

It was in that time, that time of her weakness that she had dared to risk, it was in that time that he had decided to sit next to her.