Teh Kail

And then came a fawn-colored sea, streaked here and there with explosions of deeply coloured orange waves. The waters, which had been building bit by bit, finally broken its glassy surface in a typhoon, a pulse, of pleasurable waves. And as each rose, and fell within it’s short life span, they brought with them a tumultuous rush of sensations piggyback riding on a stream of rhythmic memories. Memories that may of long been forgotten, but still lingered patiently in the back of their minds, memories of things they didn’t realize they knew, memories that were simply old fantasies, old hopes, old dreams long forgotten or outlived. Their essences unwrapped into pigments of a poet’s ideal. Threads coming loose and showing within them how the other’s life would be, could be - had been. And from it, a pattern slowly began to blossom, petals slowly unveiling enlightenment to the very foundation of existence. That which all Gods kept hidden with a bitter sense of pride – for who were we to think we could take from them, the very source of what little power they still had over us. But then, much to the amusement of the same Gods, the sea begins to calm loosing its momentum and it’s fury. Waves of pleasure began to settle into a calm ripple, a shadow of the moment. And as it faded, as the moment of bliss and ecstasy faded, so did everything learned. Details becoming blurred and uncertain – nothing left but a melancholy monotone to linger in the back of the mind with a everlasting sense of ‘deju vu’ at the most random of times.

All of this, in the few seconds of a orgasm’s lifespan.

I will find the ultimate success in the world,
I will do what everyone wishes to achieve
my goals will be met in full force,
my life will fall together, complete.
I choose to gain what all true beings reach for,
ultimate happiness,
which in return, brings ultimate success.

We are interwoven like the fabrics of my mothers blanket.
Our lives twirl into each other,
and our fates tug and pull.
My heart is connected to yours,
as our fingers are interwoven together.

(Source: oneword.com)

I sit feeling the bench’s ends against the back of my calfs, my cane tapping around the ground below me. I can’t see the park, I can’t even see my own hands, but I can feel the cool texture of the bench under me. Something chirps and I feel the flutter of wings, this must of been a common place to feed birds. I wonder where the feeder is now…

(Source: oneword.com)

“We’ll steal the girl and take the crystal for ourselves!” “Oh sister, don’t be so daft, the girl can’t possible have the crystal.” “Now sisters, stop this. Wether or not she has it isn’t the part of the plan. We’ll just kill her, and find the crystal somewhere else.” “Oooo~ I like that!”

(Source: oneword.com)

Most people have a story or two about rattling roofs and heavy footsteps in the rooms above their heads. Yet with each investigations the rooms in question always seem empty. 
But the event you yourself hear the phantom footsteps above your head, don’t make the same mistake others do by searching the above room for someone walking across the floor, instead look up. And you’ll find that the true culprit walks on ceilings.

My mother left when I was too young to notice, leaving me with faceless figures in my dreams. I feel the first time I ever really met her was in the breaking wake of the sea, years before I would learn of our family’s secret.

She rose up slowly, like a surfacing bubble. Her hair lay heavy against her scalp as soon as it poked out from the water. I treaded water, rising and falling with the rolling waves as this, almost other worldly, woman appeared before me. 

She did not bob in the water with each passing wave, instead they seemed to split and travel around her. My mother’s body was simply a mass of black under the surface, misshaped- no where near human. Long strands of unnaturally white hair (like my own,) curtained down from her head, the darker ends swimming about in the water like tentacles. And when they would occasionally cluster together I could see light pokadots in her hair, almost like the spots on a dog. 

Or a seal. 

Claudia

  Claudia watched the dead-pale skinned nurse change the blood bag on the medical stand, sniffling and wailing in agony as she worked with calm fingers, each movement perfect down to the last detail. The nurse’s hands where careful to pull the needle from Claudia’s long, plastic appendage like tube that proceeded from the crease of her arm and traveling in two ways to the bag of warm blood. As the nurse hiccupped a sob, she took the filled bag and placed it carefully inside a cushion-lined case. Then replaced it with an empty bag, plastic sucked in like melted skin. Claudia turned her head away, wiggling her fingers and twitching her arm to keep the flow of blood moving.

Claudia wondered if the practice would seem cruel to an outsider, if they were to watch as more blood was taken from her, skin already a sick yellow tint. Claudia couldn’t see why they would, as she was laying in her own bed in her own silk gown laced with pink patterned flowers and layer continuously to keep her warm. The curls in her hair bounced from her ears when she winced, thoughts interrupted and lost as the thick locks rested once again against her chest.

Suddenly, Claudia’s attention was turned towards her rooms silk covered door, where light leaked into her circular room, decorated with white silks and artificial lights. Someone was beyond the curtains and doors, in the windowless hall; their voice raised enough that she could hear her own name being said. Claudia slowly pressed herself up into a seating position, her motions slow and cautious as to not startle the nurse. But her care was in vain; the doors were thrown open, light bursting in, followed by distorted figures. Claudia inched her self off the bed and placed a hand on the cold stem of her medial stand. With one hand raised to hush the nurse, her eyes quintet to try and decipher the figures beyond her bed net curtain. 

“Claudia, don’t get up!” The closest of the dark figures spoke, and pressed his hand to the net to throw it out his way, the gesture quick and dominate. “What?! You stupid nurse you can’t take blood from someone as sick as her! Why didn’t you wait till she was better?!” Their eyes met. Claudia’s blue orbs couldn’t compare to the dark of Voltaire’s own eyes, but she would not be the first to serender and turn her gaze away. In a verbless threat, the dark eyed man slammed his fist against her dresser, sending a mirror onto the floor at Claudia’s feet, where it shattered. Instinctively, Claudia backed away, stepping gingerly backwards between the small shards. Once she was out of a sea of glass, approached the other.

His face was red with anger, but he seemed to be cooling back down to his usual gray tone of skin. His hair had raised on it’s own like a beast with hair on end, but now the thick black locks had settled down his shoulder to his middle back setting down like his eyes onto Claudia’s face and figure.

She dropped her body into his arms as though she’d suddenly lost all her energy and the strength to hold her up. He caught her and held the small body against his own towering body. She was breathing coolly but her face had a blanket of sweat covering most of it.

“Claudia,” his voice cooed over her, she felt as though she could feel the thickness of his temper wrapping her up into a wool blanket.

“You mustn’t be so harsh to her, Voltaire. It’s not hurt fault, you sowed her eyes and broke her ear drums with screams….” Claudia’s voice trailed off, her body limp in his long arms.

“Don’t quorial with me Claudia. I may have taken her physical senses but that wouldn’t effect her damn common sense!”

Claudia closed her eyes, his voice beating at her temple getting into her skin and mixing with the blood, all so quickly that it shot through the tub in her arm and the bag exploded at the other end. Blood rained over the head of the nurse, and splashed at Claudia’s black staining her perfect white dress with the pink embroidered roses and layers to keep her warm. There was silence unlike before, and the nurse went to her knee’s moving a cloth in circler to pick up the glass and blood.

Voltaire cursed louder then necessary, the tub dropped on the floor and so did Claudia, slipping from his arms like water before splashing on the floor with a loud thud. All seemed instantly quiet and black, while there was a frantic panic of commands and calls, before the room was filled with people in white coats and thousands of cringes.