shadesong | Writing Prompt

...we had just split in two
you were looking at me
I was looking at you...

-OR-

...you looked so much older
your famous blue raincoat
torn at the shoulder...

;-)

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cloakofwinter.livejournal.com

Thursday, March 24th, 2005 12:59 pm (UTC)

The last time I saw you, you were standing on a boat. Or a plow. Or maybe on a camel's back. It's hard to recall the little details, you know, when life has you looking for meaningful moments that are hidden like easter eggs in the green fields of memory.

But its only the little things that show up when anything shows up at all. Glimpses of a smile, a nod, the smell of that ice cream place and even someone laughing nearby at one of the tables while we both drank chai.

It's a little bit of Hunter S. Thompson, though, when I think about you. One moment, we're eating popcorn at the theatre, and the next, lizards of all colors are coming out of the supersized, refillable bucket and we're scrambling to see who can eat the most red ones. You win, of course, because it seems like you have a knack for eating reptiles, or at least that's the thought that comes to mind.

I lent you my jacket once, the one with the flames on the sleeves and you said you were never going to give it back. Leather always did suit you well. I remember bursting into laughter and playfighting with you over it, and in the process gently brushing one of your breasts. I didn't mean to do it, but the charge from doing so was pure electricity. You just smiled. Not a forgiving smile, but a smile that belied you liked and even encouraged the touch, the feeling, but that we just weren't there yet.

I sang you to sleep that night.

But the magic is in those moments which are clear, when I can remember you in what it was like before the crash, before the truck tore the car in half and I was locked in this endless sleep the doctors really have no name for.

I know you come every day and that you read to me and talk to me, but its a little like watching TV with the radio on - the soundtrack has nothing to do with the images being processed. I'm sure I recall that I loved you, or at least, that I was going to tell you so in one of those darkened candle-filled rooms like they have in the movies, but I never got the chance. And now, I can't move. I ache to touch you, any part of you, just to feel something other than the void of what I feel now.

At least now I know what fine jewelry must feel like - trapped in a glass case with everyone looking in but never really making the physical connection. That's me - your string of pearls.

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laurelian.livejournal.com

Thursday, March 24th, 2005 01:07 pm (UTC)

This is wholly inadequate, but let me just say 'wow'. Very powerful.

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cloakofwinter.livejournal.com

Thursday, March 24th, 2005 01:18 pm (UTC)

Thank you for compliment. Seems we stunned each other today.

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miintikwa.livejournal.com

Thursday, March 24th, 2005 01:18 pm (UTC)

She gasped, startled, thrusting the little girl behind her. "No. How-"

He stared, recognizing the child, looking up at Deya with his heart in his huge violet eyes. "What have you done?"

"What have I done? Last time I saw you, you told me to go! To leave you to your fate!" Deya's long blond hair had streaks of silver in it, he noticed, looking closely. The little girl poked her head from behind Deya, and Cilian felt his heart breaking. Deya's hand restrained the girl, but he could see she was trembling. "You said it would break your heart to hear from me. So I didn't write."

"Deya, Deya... You should've written. You should've come and gotten me." He knelt, staring into the little girl's violet eyes. "I would've come if I'd known..."

"No, Cilian. Bren and Alex needed you, and 'twould have been bad for you to-" Her voice cut off in a gasp as a silver-eyed man walked up behind Cilian. Deya stumbled back a few steps, nearly falling atop her daughter. "Brennan?" Her son nodded, his eyes also on the little girl Deya had never mentioned to any of them.

Tears filled Deya's eyes, and she bowed her head. The little girl peeked around her again, looking at Brennan. "You have eyes like Mama." She peered at Cilian. "And your eyes are like mine."

"Yes, little one. This fellow here is Brenan. He's your brother." The little girl studied Brennan again, and smiled.

Deya spoke, quietly. "Kilia. This man, the one with eyes like yours. He is your Papa. You should say hello."

Cilian looked up at Deya, a lump in his throat. "You named her after me?"

Deya raised her head, looking into his eyes. "She was all I had of you."

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microwench.livejournal.com

Thursday, March 24th, 2005 04:26 pm (UTC)

The last time I saw you, you were walkng away. Not from me exactly, that happened years ago. But then it was me walking away from you. The last time I saw you, I'm not even sure you knew I was watching. I'd caught glimpses of you all day long, here and there. I only know you saw me once. We never spoke. Animosity, or fear, I don't know. There's still a lot between us. But I haven't the courage for closure... I haven't the courage for much these days...