Here's a fun experiment - free-flow of thoughts with disregard to grammar from a perspective that isn't your own. I'm picturing, personally, a really tall, quiet, perhaps not too attractive and very rural looking guy with big, rough hands and a penchant for violence - what do you think?
___She's lying down next to me on the bed with her soft white skin all bare and glistening with sweat. I can hear her breathing and it's that deep, rumbling, contented purr that women get sometimes when the sex is good. It's a dangerous kind of breathing because women think an orgasm means eternal love half the time, and I reckon that's about what's going through her head the way her fingertips are slowly tracing up and down my forearm. It kindof tickles, kindof snags those coarse dark hairs that look primal next to her smooth porcelain flesh.
___I don't like this petting business, makes me feel a bit like a dog, which ain't right because she's the one with the dog look in her big brown eyes. It's a pleading hungry look, a sad desperate animal look, a sniveling seeking affection look. I really don't like that; it means she expects me to say something sappy-sweet now, like I love her, and give her one of those tacky little kisses on the forehead that women get all stupid about.
___Me, I'm just wondering how long I can keep this up before she goes from puppy love to snarling bitch and kicks me out of her apartment, me hallway-standing like a damn fool in my boxers with a ball of clothing in my arms, her howling like a banshee while the neighbors make no effort to politely look away.
___Probably won't get both of my socks back, never do. Lonely single gals like her, they probably have a whole heap of lonely single socks in their apartment, all different kinds of socks from all different kinds of men. Because they're just hoping to find a pair of socks that'll stay for more than just the night.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Songspired! "You Look Like I Need A Drink"
Songspiration – writing inspired by music, incorporating lyrics! This is based on "You Look Like I Need A Drink" by Against Me! Lyrics are italicised. It starts with lyrics, ends with lyrics, and has some thrown in the middle.
In the closest alley,
in the first doorway,
he pushed up against her
and closed his eyes.
___The street lights cast everything in a sickly yellow glow, throwing shadows of trashcans and cardboard boxes long across the filthy concrete. It was late enough that even the hustle and bustle of the city had died down sufficiently for long stretches of near-silence, in which the only sounds were the rustle of crumpled newspaper on pavement whenever the wind blew, or the wail of a distant siren. With her body pressed tightly to his, he could hear her soft exhalations and feel the strumming of her heartbeat against his chest. His fingers traced her spine through the thin fabric of a well worn blouse as he touched his forehead to hers. Her breath was tainted by the reek of alcohol as she craned her neck to kiss him, groping at the front of his jeans. He shuddered, pulling back enough to gingerly stroke her jaw line with his fingertips. He said,
___“This is probably the worst decision that I’ve ever made,” brushing her lips with one thumb as she pushed her back against the door until it yeilded, pulling him into a dimly lit hallway with a sly grin. Behind her tired, bloodshot eyes and teeth discolored by negligence, he fancied he saw something beautiful as she laughed and smiled, and said,
___“I’m sure you do this all the time, right?”
___Through the thin walls, the sound of a baby's crying was audible; it did not cry out for long as though already resigned to being ignored, and they disregarded it in turn. In the stairwell, walls pocked with damage and scrawled with graffiti, he ground his hips to hers. Bathed in wan and flickering light, she wrapped her legs around his waist so that her ratty little black skirt rode up to leave her pale ass bare. Their mouths were sloppily fixed together, too rushed and unfamiliar. An erection only marginally firm from drunkenness prodded blindly against her groin, a friction of jeans against scant lace. She pulled her mouth from his, lipstick smeared half across her cheek to match the runny mascara that darkened the corners of her eyes.
___"Wait, wait - let's do some shit first," she rasped into his ear, kissing his earlobe as she spoke. Her nuzzled her neck, thrusting against her once more, and she slapped his chest in protest.
___"Seriously, you said you had some."
___He huffed frustration and pushed back using both hands against the grimy wall, letting her untwine her legs as he felt around in the back pockets of his jeans. The baggie, half-empty, contained a light brown powder that bore the acidic scent of vinegar when he carefully pulled it open. Her eyes were more desirous at the sight of the dope than they had been as they kissed. She reached for the tightly rolled dollar bill clutched between his two fingers like a cigarette, and he pulled away, a face that had been flirtatious now hardened against her.
___"It's my stuff, I hit it first."
___He inserted the rolled bill into his left nostril, lowering his head and raising the baggie until the two met then taking in a quick snort. He withdrew, rubbing his nostril and sniffling, eyes already working towards that distant, glazed look as he extended both in her direction. She went through the motions with rehearsed precision, clearly a regular user, but took a much deeper hit than he had. Her dark brown eyes rolled back in her head and her breath shuddered out in one great rush before she pitched forward. Reflexes slowed by the dope, he reached to catch her arm and missed.
___Down, down, down, so soft of a sound - her head hit the edge of the stairs, bounced once, struck again. There was no bleeding, just a wet pop, and then she sprawled motionless on the floor. Eyes wild with whites showing all around, he knelt beside her in a panic, shaking her thin shoulders in desperation.
___"Get up!" Her head lolled limply, face an expressionless mask. "Get up - please start breathing!"
And the moment will come
when you finally realize
the results of decisions
and choices in your life.
Can you hear it all coming back after you?
In the closest alley,
in the first doorway,
he pushed up against her
and closed his eyes.
___The street lights cast everything in a sickly yellow glow, throwing shadows of trashcans and cardboard boxes long across the filthy concrete. It was late enough that even the hustle and bustle of the city had died down sufficiently for long stretches of near-silence, in which the only sounds were the rustle of crumpled newspaper on pavement whenever the wind blew, or the wail of a distant siren. With her body pressed tightly to his, he could hear her soft exhalations and feel the strumming of her heartbeat against his chest. His fingers traced her spine through the thin fabric of a well worn blouse as he touched his forehead to hers. Her breath was tainted by the reek of alcohol as she craned her neck to kiss him, groping at the front of his jeans. He shuddered, pulling back enough to gingerly stroke her jaw line with his fingertips. He said,
___“This is probably the worst decision that I’ve ever made,” brushing her lips with one thumb as she pushed her back against the door until it yeilded, pulling him into a dimly lit hallway with a sly grin. Behind her tired, bloodshot eyes and teeth discolored by negligence, he fancied he saw something beautiful as she laughed and smiled, and said,
___“I’m sure you do this all the time, right?”
___Through the thin walls, the sound of a baby's crying was audible; it did not cry out for long as though already resigned to being ignored, and they disregarded it in turn. In the stairwell, walls pocked with damage and scrawled with graffiti, he ground his hips to hers. Bathed in wan and flickering light, she wrapped her legs around his waist so that her ratty little black skirt rode up to leave her pale ass bare. Their mouths were sloppily fixed together, too rushed and unfamiliar. An erection only marginally firm from drunkenness prodded blindly against her groin, a friction of jeans against scant lace. She pulled her mouth from his, lipstick smeared half across her cheek to match the runny mascara that darkened the corners of her eyes.
___"Wait, wait - let's do some shit first," she rasped into his ear, kissing his earlobe as she spoke. Her nuzzled her neck, thrusting against her once more, and she slapped his chest in protest.
___"Seriously, you said you had some."
___He huffed frustration and pushed back using both hands against the grimy wall, letting her untwine her legs as he felt around in the back pockets of his jeans. The baggie, half-empty, contained a light brown powder that bore the acidic scent of vinegar when he carefully pulled it open. Her eyes were more desirous at the sight of the dope than they had been as they kissed. She reached for the tightly rolled dollar bill clutched between his two fingers like a cigarette, and he pulled away, a face that had been flirtatious now hardened against her.
___"It's my stuff, I hit it first."
___He inserted the rolled bill into his left nostril, lowering his head and raising the baggie until the two met then taking in a quick snort. He withdrew, rubbing his nostril and sniffling, eyes already working towards that distant, glazed look as he extended both in her direction. She went through the motions with rehearsed precision, clearly a regular user, but took a much deeper hit than he had. Her dark brown eyes rolled back in her head and her breath shuddered out in one great rush before she pitched forward. Reflexes slowed by the dope, he reached to catch her arm and missed.
___Down, down, down, so soft of a sound - her head hit the edge of the stairs, bounced once, struck again. There was no bleeding, just a wet pop, and then she sprawled motionless on the floor. Eyes wild with whites showing all around, he knelt beside her in a panic, shaking her thin shoulders in desperation.
___"Get up!" Her head lolled limply, face an expressionless mask. "Get up - please start breathing!"
And the moment will come
when you finally realize
the results of decisions
and choices in your life.
Can you hear it all coming back after you?
The (Unwritten) Death of Sreya Bahari
This is half of a larger piece posted at Tower that permitted me to write a very personal 3rd person perspective of the death of a crucial character in my book, Sreya Bahari. Only the aftermath of her death is observed in the book since it is written from the first person perspective of another character, but the moments here from Sreya's perspective are in keeping with what Trent experiences upon entering the territory and finding her.
I considered posting the whole piece, but it is very graphically violent and posting it so publically was against my better judgement. So, this occurs after Sreya has awoken post-skinning on the verge of death. It's still pretty disturbing so if things of this sort do not appeal to you, please reconsider reading. Most of the terminology also probably makes no sense without the background of the rest of the novel. And oh - the full texted started with "Sreya Bahari was not dying... yet." if you are pondering the wording of the last few sentences.
Ok, side notes are over. I'd say enjoy but that's hardly the right word.
___Sreya didn't recall any sensation of opening her eyes, but she found herself staring out at rocks spattered in dried blood through vision narrowed to tunnels by hypoxia nonetheless. The early morning sun filtered down brighter than it ought to on the territory, and it took a moment for her to realize that this was due to an absence of shade; the trees had been burned to blackened spires pointing like accusatory skeletal fingers at the heavens: why us!? There was a haze in the air, a few smoldering embers on the fringes of the rendezvous still leaking feeble clouds of dark smoke - this she heard and smelled more than saw, unable to turn her head to observe the carnage. Perhaps in this aspect, shock was mercy, for the sights all around would have been enough to crush the very soul of a matriarch.
___Her body felt cold and numb, and even to her own senses her heartbeat was weak and erratic, breaths too shallow and gurgling; Sreya mused that, were she brought to Wild Woods, she would be very much concerned about the survival of herself. The flies were aware of it; as the day warmed with the rising sun, they started to gather in swarming hordes, hovering over her body hesitantly as if wondering if they could land without risk. I heard a fly buzz... and she may have laughed ironically had she the strength for it. Any delirious humor was promptly erased as she watched one circle lower, so close to her eye that she could keenly see its iridescent sides shining blue and green in the sunlight. It moved to land, and she reflexively blinked - or should have, but nothing happened. Its feet touched the surface of her eye, tongue probing, antennae twitching. Regurgitated saliva pooled against her cornea, her eye watered with discomfort, but no lid fell in protection. Only then did she remember the sensation of the flint's blade sliding beneath her skin...
___Oh god. Oh GOD! Her frightened eyes rolled artificially wide from the absence of surrounding skin as the fly alighted. They fell over a forearm stripped nearly to muscle, smooth handiwork, the kind you saw of professional furriers. At her naked elbow, bands of striated bright white clung over corded red - was it the ulnar collateral ligament? The realization was so horrific that it stunned her; she did not cry out in pain, didn't tremble or struggle. Who knows if shock would have allowed it, anyways. Instead she floated in precious numbness, immersed in the surreal feeling of her fleshless body slowly dying.
___How many minutes, hours, eternities passed? There was a sudden disturbance in the clan's espiritus that roused her from the nebulous gray of semi-consciousness. The many new energies, filled with fresh confusion, pain, fury,and sorrow, stirred abruptly, filling the air with an uncomfortable sensation akin to invisible hands charged with electricity groping frantically at one's body - like ghosts seeking a host. This milling, tumultuous presence crescendoed as the sound of footsteps became audible on the charred soil. The bloodied, battered holes in her snout where there once had been nostrils sucked in shallow breaths, attempting to smell whomever was approaching. Therian - she could detect wolf, and terror anew sharpened her senses, for this was now a scent she associated with the most profound of traumas in her life. Her muscles trembled, energy fought to rally, but she could not flee, could not fight.
___The increasing cadence of Sreya's frightened heart beats only spirited her more quickly towards death. One lung was collapsed and the other fast approaching the same fate as blood pooled in the recumbent chest cavity. The rising pulse demanded more oxygen, oxygen the body could not provide, and rushed blood to the giant singular wound that her body had become. She could barely register her surroundings as a shadow fell over her, but she growled low in her throat, ready to use the last tattered remnants of her strength to fight back if need be. The muscles of her mouth attempted to pull themselves into a defiant snarl as the werewolf crouched at her side, hands poised over her body to inflict more harm.
___The werewolf... he smelled of hyena, as well. The espiritus calmed in his presence, humming curiously, milling and coiling between them as though confused in their loyalties. He extended one trembling hand, a human hand with elegant dark-skinned fingers, and brushed a tiny scrap of black fur left behind on the back of her hand. Immediate electricity - her senses were flooded with the smell of damp moss, rotting deciduous leaves, the crisp chill of mountain air. This melted to something sweltering and foreign, a feline musk, and now the familiar wan of sun-dried savanna grasses and dung from large herbivores. That was signature to only one therian that she knew; Trent had come to the clan's territory, after all.
___Someone was shouting, a wild, frantic flurry of words, profanity and sobs intermingled. It sounded distant, like someone screaming from the bowels of a cave. Energy heated the air until it felt as though the forest were aflame once more. Her breaths were growing more difficult, her pulse more sluggish. With the narrow field of her vision fading by the moment, she couldn't make sense of what was going on. Sensation was all but gone, but she thought she felt firm hands upon her raw cheeks. Intense dark eyes glossed over with tears and raw with agony slowly dissolved from her sight, and like a spectral whisper despite it being shouted in her face, she heard the words "I love you." She wished she could respond, tried to force the words.
___And then - Sreya Bahari was dying. Her other lung caved. No smell. No sight. No sound. Her pulse stuttered. Her heart stopped. Something battered and worn slumped lifeless to the rocks, but what joined the espiritus in that moment was fierce and vivacious, like the wilds of Nigeria where it had been Born.
I considered posting the whole piece, but it is very graphically violent and posting it so publically was against my better judgement. So, this occurs after Sreya has awoken post-skinning on the verge of death. It's still pretty disturbing so if things of this sort do not appeal to you, please reconsider reading. Most of the terminology also probably makes no sense without the background of the rest of the novel. And oh - the full texted started with "Sreya Bahari was not dying... yet." if you are pondering the wording of the last few sentences.
Ok, side notes are over. I'd say enjoy but that's hardly the right word.
___Sreya didn't recall any sensation of opening her eyes, but she found herself staring out at rocks spattered in dried blood through vision narrowed to tunnels by hypoxia nonetheless. The early morning sun filtered down brighter than it ought to on the territory, and it took a moment for her to realize that this was due to an absence of shade; the trees had been burned to blackened spires pointing like accusatory skeletal fingers at the heavens: why us!? There was a haze in the air, a few smoldering embers on the fringes of the rendezvous still leaking feeble clouds of dark smoke - this she heard and smelled more than saw, unable to turn her head to observe the carnage. Perhaps in this aspect, shock was mercy, for the sights all around would have been enough to crush the very soul of a matriarch.
___Her body felt cold and numb, and even to her own senses her heartbeat was weak and erratic, breaths too shallow and gurgling; Sreya mused that, were she brought to Wild Woods, she would be very much concerned about the survival of herself. The flies were aware of it; as the day warmed with the rising sun, they started to gather in swarming hordes, hovering over her body hesitantly as if wondering if they could land without risk. I heard a fly buzz... and she may have laughed ironically had she the strength for it. Any delirious humor was promptly erased as she watched one circle lower, so close to her eye that she could keenly see its iridescent sides shining blue and green in the sunlight. It moved to land, and she reflexively blinked - or should have, but nothing happened. Its feet touched the surface of her eye, tongue probing, antennae twitching. Regurgitated saliva pooled against her cornea, her eye watered with discomfort, but no lid fell in protection. Only then did she remember the sensation of the flint's blade sliding beneath her skin...
___Oh god. Oh GOD! Her frightened eyes rolled artificially wide from the absence of surrounding skin as the fly alighted. They fell over a forearm stripped nearly to muscle, smooth handiwork, the kind you saw of professional furriers. At her naked elbow, bands of striated bright white clung over corded red - was it the ulnar collateral ligament? The realization was so horrific that it stunned her; she did not cry out in pain, didn't tremble or struggle. Who knows if shock would have allowed it, anyways. Instead she floated in precious numbness, immersed in the surreal feeling of her fleshless body slowly dying.
___How many minutes, hours, eternities passed? There was a sudden disturbance in the clan's espiritus that roused her from the nebulous gray of semi-consciousness. The many new energies, filled with fresh confusion, pain, fury,and sorrow, stirred abruptly, filling the air with an uncomfortable sensation akin to invisible hands charged with electricity groping frantically at one's body - like ghosts seeking a host. This milling, tumultuous presence crescendoed as the sound of footsteps became audible on the charred soil. The bloodied, battered holes in her snout where there once had been nostrils sucked in shallow breaths, attempting to smell whomever was approaching. Therian - she could detect wolf, and terror anew sharpened her senses, for this was now a scent she associated with the most profound of traumas in her life. Her muscles trembled, energy fought to rally, but she could not flee, could not fight.
___The increasing cadence of Sreya's frightened heart beats only spirited her more quickly towards death. One lung was collapsed and the other fast approaching the same fate as blood pooled in the recumbent chest cavity. The rising pulse demanded more oxygen, oxygen the body could not provide, and rushed blood to the giant singular wound that her body had become. She could barely register her surroundings as a shadow fell over her, but she growled low in her throat, ready to use the last tattered remnants of her strength to fight back if need be. The muscles of her mouth attempted to pull themselves into a defiant snarl as the werewolf crouched at her side, hands poised over her body to inflict more harm.
___The werewolf... he smelled of hyena, as well. The espiritus calmed in his presence, humming curiously, milling and coiling between them as though confused in their loyalties. He extended one trembling hand, a human hand with elegant dark-skinned fingers, and brushed a tiny scrap of black fur left behind on the back of her hand. Immediate electricity - her senses were flooded with the smell of damp moss, rotting deciduous leaves, the crisp chill of mountain air. This melted to something sweltering and foreign, a feline musk, and now the familiar wan of sun-dried savanna grasses and dung from large herbivores. That was signature to only one therian that she knew; Trent had come to the clan's territory, after all.
___Someone was shouting, a wild, frantic flurry of words, profanity and sobs intermingled. It sounded distant, like someone screaming from the bowels of a cave. Energy heated the air until it felt as though the forest were aflame once more. Her breaths were growing more difficult, her pulse more sluggish. With the narrow field of her vision fading by the moment, she couldn't make sense of what was going on. Sensation was all but gone, but she thought she felt firm hands upon her raw cheeks. Intense dark eyes glossed over with tears and raw with agony slowly dissolved from her sight, and like a spectral whisper despite it being shouted in her face, she heard the words "I love you." She wished she could respond, tried to force the words.
___And then - Sreya Bahari was dying. Her other lung caved. No smell. No sight. No sound. Her pulse stuttered. Her heart stopped. Something battered and worn slumped lifeless to the rocks, but what joined the espiritus in that moment was fierce and vivacious, like the wilds of Nigeria where it had been Born.
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