emotion. My decisions should be easy and yet they are not.
"I'm not making sense." I whisper into the mist.
The pillar makes me feel it all again. The way his hands ran down my sides and the way his lips pressed against my nape. My skin shivers from the memory.
Nothing is where it should be, as my priorities lose against my desires. The damp in the air heightens the moment. I can feel the thick mist and the smoke forming into something that resembles him and caresses me.
I could remain the night and dream of him, but I know they will be coming for me. They came for everyone else. Everyone who stayed.
I know they will find me.
I let myself enjoy the last second of the smells and feelings, before I slip away with the mist.
I've always hated the dark and the things that hide there with reaching fingers and icy whispers. I never knew anything real, beyond a ghost, could live in the dark.
Now I know better.
There are things that can live in the smallest of shadows. The dark is not ours. It never was. It has always belonged to things we can't understand.
I run through the woods along the path, like I have practiced. I could run it blindfolded if need be. My slippers make no sounds against the old dead leaves and dirt. The farmhouse is a mile away. When I reach it, I feel a sense of relief wash over me. It stands alone in a huge wheat field surrounded by forest. Even my momma doesn’t come here, only Emily, our daddy and me. We are, were, the only ones who ever came here. No one knows about it, not even the help. It's always been our momma's greatest embarrassment, beyond the childhood she's hidden away.
The wheat strands scratch against each other, whispering into the black night. I let my fingers brush the itchy wheat strands, as I run through it almost silently. My feet make no sounds climbing the front porch of the white weather-beaten farmhouse. I slip through the storm door and lock it once I'm inside. I close the huge wooden door and lock the several locks. It might not keep them out, but I'm willing to take a chance on a lock; it'll at least make a noise when they're through it. I don't look around. I know nothing is inside with me. Not yet. They were still eating when I left. A gagging sob leaves my throat when I think about it.
I run up the stairs to the bedroom with the peeling wallpaper that I can't see in the dark, but I know it's there all the same. I smile seeing my house from the huge window. If I look hard enough through the overhanging willows and black walnut trees, I can see the pillars of the old dance floor. It glows like the ruins in Rome against the black sky and dark trees. The mist and smoke lie low along the ground, blanketing the forest and fields. The mist moves as if it's searching for something, someone.
I watch the field and listen to the whispers of the breeze tickling the wheat. Everything sounds as it should. When I relax, my memories take over where my instincts have been. Sliding my back down the wall to sit on the old musty carpet across from the huge window, I try to get control of my brain again and remember everything.
If I close my eyes for a second I can hear the music. Nina Simone singing about the birds and sun and the sky. She was singing about feeling good and the way love brings with it a new dawn. I love the song Feeling Good and I love her version the best.
I keep my eyes closed and try to remember the details I still can't fully access.
I relax and let myself remember it. I whisper the words to the song into the dark lonely room. Instantly I can remember it.
I was leaning with my back against the pillar. I was hot and sticky from dancing. The heavy air was filled with the sickly sweet smell of cigars. It rolled around me. I wiped my glistening face and looked around for him. We had been avoiding each other. Or rather, I had been avoiding him. I didn’t want Martin to see us together. Or worse my momma.
Whit wanted to tell me something but Martin was still too
"I'm not making sense." I whisper into the mist.
The pillar makes me feel it all again. The way his hands ran down my sides and the way his lips pressed against my nape. My skin shivers from the memory.
Nothing is where it should be, as my priorities lose against my desires. The damp in the air heightens the moment. I can feel the thick mist and the smoke forming into something that resembles him and caresses me.
I could remain the night and dream of him, but I know they will be coming for me. They came for everyone else. Everyone who stayed.
I know they will find me.
I let myself enjoy the last second of the smells and feelings, before I slip away with the mist.
I've always hated the dark and the things that hide there with reaching fingers and icy whispers. I never knew anything real, beyond a ghost, could live in the dark.
Now I know better.
There are things that can live in the smallest of shadows. The dark is not ours. It never was. It has always belonged to things we can't understand.
I run through the woods along the path, like I have practiced. I could run it blindfolded if need be. My slippers make no sounds against the old dead leaves and dirt. The farmhouse is a mile away. When I reach it, I feel a sense of relief wash over me. It stands alone in a huge wheat field surrounded by forest. Even my momma doesn’t come here, only Emily, our daddy and me. We are, were, the only ones who ever came here. No one knows about it, not even the help. It's always been our momma's greatest embarrassment, beyond the childhood she's hidden away.
The wheat strands scratch against each other, whispering into the black night. I let my fingers brush the itchy wheat strands, as I run through it almost silently. My feet make no sounds climbing the front porch of the white weather-beaten farmhouse. I slip through the storm door and lock it once I'm inside. I close the huge wooden door and lock the several locks. It might not keep them out, but I'm willing to take a chance on a lock; it'll at least make a noise when they're through it. I don't look around. I know nothing is inside with me. Not yet. They were still eating when I left. A gagging sob leaves my throat when I think about it.
I run up the stairs to the bedroom with the peeling wallpaper that I can't see in the dark, but I know it's there all the same. I smile seeing my house from the huge window. If I look hard enough through the overhanging willows and black walnut trees, I can see the pillars of the old dance floor. It glows like the ruins in Rome against the black sky and dark trees. The mist and smoke lie low along the ground, blanketing the forest and fields. The mist moves as if it's searching for something, someone.
I watch the field and listen to the whispers of the breeze tickling the wheat. Everything sounds as it should. When I relax, my memories take over where my instincts have been. Sliding my back down the wall to sit on the old musty carpet across from the huge window, I try to get control of my brain again and remember everything.
If I close my eyes for a second I can hear the music. Nina Simone singing about the birds and sun and the sky. She was singing about feeling good and the way love brings with it a new dawn. I love the song Feeling Good and I love her version the best.
I keep my eyes closed and try to remember the details I still can't fully access.
I relax and let myself remember it. I whisper the words to the song into the dark lonely room. Instantly I can remember it.
I was leaning with my back against the pillar. I was hot and sticky from dancing. The heavy air was filled with the sickly sweet smell of cigars. It rolled around me. I wiped my glistening face and looked around for him. We had been avoiding each other. Or rather, I had been avoiding him. I didn’t want Martin to see us together. Or worse my momma.
Whit wanted to tell me something but Martin was still too
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