I won't want for love (kheft, blitz)

kneedles

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I won't want for love (kheft, blitz) May 20, 2012 20:18:25 GMT -5

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Post by kneedles on May 20, 2012 20:18:25 GMT -5

I breathe in the soft smell of the honeysuckle and breathe out the soft strangling poison clenched tight around my heart, walk through the bones of fallen magpie attacked by insects and decay. Keeping my battered shoes in hand, stolen from a woman I don’t know where, I don’t know when, my bare feet feel the way through the green lichen and the fresh blooming columbine. Here, the forests bow to me and I spread my skirts out, curtsey back. A fine lady, a strong gentleman, what a couple we make. Look at how I’ve gathered up the bluebells and the grass into a bouquet, fresh and sweet; I am ready to be married to the earth. The trees are our congregation, the birds provide the music and you are all around me.

I am starving and I am sure that today, at long last, my body is dying. See the way the colors shift and seem to sparkle in the wood? Those are shadows come to glorious Technicolor, the ghosts of the past becoming brighter, corporeal while the grim darkness of the present slips slowly away. Now is the time. The way my stomach clenches in on itself is as comforting as your embrace and when my legs give way to the malaise I sink gently onto the carpet of leaves that you have laid out for me.

Pulling my bouquet to my chest I lay against the dirt- of dirt we were made and to the dirt we will all return- ready as an expectant bride, ignore the gasping breaths and dizzy feeling behind my eyes. I feel your approach before I hear it. It is in the soft whispers of the wind upon my parted lips like a kiss, otherworldly at first and then, with the crackle of approaching footsteps, realer than the ground beneath my body.

“I’ve waited for you so long,” I say in a hoarse voice, out of practise for many years, when the footfalls become ever closer. So long.

Kheft
Merchant

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last seen Jun 29, 2013 0:09:39 GMT -5

I won't want for love (kheft, blitz) May 23, 2012 12:09:00 GMT -5

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Post by Kheft on May 23, 2012 12:09:00 GMT -5

A branch snaps beneath the sole of my foot, and I screech to a halt, freezing in my tracks and barely bothering to breathe. I’ve crept right up to the edge of the glade where a stream bends its way from sunlight-dappled shade into the burning, crystal brightness of a May afternoon. Pausing for a drink along its bank is the fleet-footed doe that I’ve been tracking for most of the morning. Sweat trickles uncomfortably down my neck, soaking further into my shirt, my own body odor has become obnoxious, but sweat and the dark loam I’ve caked my exposed skin with are far less likely to scare off the game than the unnatural freshness of soap. Funny how we humans tend to gravitate towards things that only exist outside of nature’s own spectrum.

I gently tug at the slipknot on my bolas, its rough hemp cords sliding free into my fingers. I’ve grown deft at this, learning to sling the weapon with a blind speed, my old mentor would be shocked to see how his clumsy pupil has grown. The grin on my face might be called smug, and it serves me right that I never have a chance to let my weapon fly. Never grow confident in your victory. The deer lifts its head with a panicked jerk that sends droplets of water flying. Something has spooked it, and with a flick of the white-flagged tail, I watch in frustration as it disappears in the undergrowth. Damn.

I storm out of the bushes. There’s no way that deer scented me, I was downwind, so someone else is prowling about here and spoiling my hunt. The business end of my bolas snaps at the tall grass, bruising and bashing stalks into submission. I’m no longer trying to be quiet, I want to know who the hell is mucking about in the woods and chasing off all the game. In fact, I’m so intent and angry that I nearly step right on her. The body of a woman laid out in the leaves, loosely clutching a cluster of grass and wildflowers to her chest. Now who goes leaving corpses about in the middle of nowhere? I nudge at her with the toe of my boot. Skinny, malnourished, dirty…she’s certainly not been living even in the districts with the condition she’s in. Like a wanderer then, with her people leaving her body for the wolves to devour. I’m about to walk off, let the dead woman rest in peace, when I hear the softest of inhaled breaths. The woman’s still alive! If only just…

I’m not touching her, she might be diseased, so I continue my nudging. “Oi! Lady, wake up!”

kneedles

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I won't want for love (kheft, blitz) May 23, 2012 17:23:22 GMT -5

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Post by kneedles on May 23, 2012 17:23:22 GMT -5

No, no. I’m not waking up, it’s time for me to sleep. That last, long, eternal rest while my bones twist with the ivy, red capped mushrooms crawl forward from my eye sockets while insects gambol through my fingers. I unclench a hand from my bouquet, flap it skywards towards the voice which is now decidedly not you. Go away, I am trying to die. But it is a restless spirit, a shadow that will not let me, nudging at my body, disturbing my chance at perpetual rest. So I open one eye, hazy, tortoise- shell and rimed yellow at the sclera, turn my head to face the not-you, bathed in shadow with the sun behind his head.

My movements are jerky and mechanical like a wind-toy, but not without a little grace. I spring from the ground into an animalistic stance, crouched back, one hand balanced at the palm on the soft moss of the floor, the other still clutching at the bouquet. It is a trick I have long adopted; the more animal I appear, the less likely I am to come to harm. As the years pass…and they do still pass don’t they…I am hardly aware…as the years pass I begin to wonder if it is still a trick, if that is not simply what I have become. An animal.

And here is a hunter, I see his weapon.For me I wonder. Have you sent him to finish me quickly, sparing me the slow agonising torture of starvation?

It would be so kind of you to do so, and I giggle like any nervous bride stand to attention like a person once more and bury my head into my bouquet, shyly curtseying to my executioner. How grateful I am to this man; how indebted and beholden to this, the most noble of all males. I smile and turn my head up to face him.

I know him.

I know his face, I am sure that I do. My smile vanishes and turns to fearful confusion, have I died already? What manner of trickery has my mind thrown at me. I know him. I thought I had forgotten….but no….here and now I remember.

“Oh my,” I tremble, take a step back and tilt my head to look at him. My fingers begin to tremble, let the bouquet slip to the floor, forgotten like so many twisted memories. “It’s you…isn’t it?” I can’t help myself, the tears slip easily.

“I found you,” I can barely choke out in a hushed, reverential whisper.

Kheft
Merchant

270 POSTS
last seen Jun 29, 2013 0:09:39 GMT -5

I won't want for love (kheft, blitz) May 24, 2012 14:18:15 GMT -5

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Post by Kheft on May 24, 2012 14:18:15 GMT -5

I nearly fall over backwards in shock when the deathly stillness of her body erupts into motion. Crouching with a feral posture, torso lowered to the ground, one hand stabilizing, the other still clasping at the lopsided bouquet as though it was something valuable she protected. It’s just a handful of grass and petals. She resembles little more than the coyotes and wild cats I’ve run across on occasion, yellowed and rheumy eyes blazing back with an angry vacancy. Creatures can act vicious when you disturb their right to die how they please. I tried to help a wounded coyote once and nearly lost my hand, I put him down instead, letting his end be quick and without the natural order of a final suffering.

I can’t believe I’m comparing this woman to an animal; it’s the solitude that does things to your head. She might be wild, unwashed, and with every bone in her body trying to punch its way through her skin, but it doesn’t make her any less than human.

“I don’t know how you got way out here—“ I’m trying to get some information from her, maybe help her get back where she came from, but then she is giggling, dipping a formal curtsey. Did I miss something? I rock back on my heels, trying to understand where the angry creature transformed into a girl at her first dance. Her sweet expression turns upward, and then it’s rocketing off again in another insane trajectory. I can’t keep up with what’s going on. Her words are greeting me like a long-lost friend or lover, though I swear I’ve never seen her face before. There’s no way I would forget it.

“You didn’t find me, Lady. I found you…I almost stepped on you. What are you doing way out here?” I pause, wondering if she’s capable of giving me a logical answer. It’s probably too much to hope for.

kneedles

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I won't want for love (kheft, blitz) May 26, 2012 4:04:47 GMT -5

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Post by kneedles on May 26, 2012 4:04:47 GMT -5

Yes, those eyes are yours…I am sure of it, they were definitely dark, I can still see them looking out at me from my memories. He has dark eyes. I tell myself, filling in the mystery that has plagued me for as long as I have been out here in the woods. I’m biting down on my fingers now in delight, grinning around them, and darting my head like a bird keeping watch from a tree, craning to spot an insect, a small animal far below. I can’t take in enough of him, he’s handsome. But we always knew he would be, didn’t we? You were beautiful, I was beautiful…all of it was so very beautiful. If this is a dream then it is the best one that I’ve had in all of my life.

He’s asking me questions, but I don’t care about them, I have things I need to know from him. I know where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing…things and places that I don’t care to recall, won’t ever recall if I can help it. But he is my new mystery, my fully grown miracle, I want to ask him if he is happy, if people have loved him. “Oh…I wandered here,” I say with a flap of my hand, “Years and years and years. But I always thought of you.”

I tip my head again and see no recognition on his face…strange…”You don’t remember me,” I say quietly, fighting not to make my face fall. I was sure that when we met that he would know me, through muscle memory, our shared DNA. No matter though, I know him, there is no doubt. “I’m Mouse,” I say patting my chest. “And I’d know you anywhere.”

Looking around, I realise that I must be a mess, how embarrassed he must be! I try frantically to pat down my hair, rearrange my tattered dress. “I…I…I’m a fright…that must be it. I used to be very pretty,” I babble. “We should…dinner…I should make dinner! We can talk…I have to ask you so much.” Looking around frantically I remember where I am, and that I have nothing. “Um…I…a birds nest…eggs!” I look up to the sky, pace the forest, wringing my hands. “I don’t…I wasn’t expecting company…such short notice. I would have gotten dressed…made a cake.”

Last Edit: May 26, 2012 7:00:41 GMT -5 by kneedles

Kheft
Merchant

270 POSTS
last seen Jun 29, 2013 0:09:39 GMT -5

I won't want for love (kheft, blitz) May 28, 2012 20:46:38 GMT -5

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Post by Kheft on May 28, 2012 20:46:38 GMT -5

She’s perturbed now, pacing through the undergrowth with enough vehemence to wear her own path. Her thoughts pelt the space around me, scattered and confused, passing by like stones skipped across the water…leaving me only the ripples and splash marks to track back, seeking a source. I know that I’ve never before seen her face, but something seems to have convinced her that she’s seen mine. She’s ill, hallucinating; it’s the only conclusion that makes any sense. I can tell her nutrition has been far from adequate, and living in the woods can turn even the most sensible person stone cold crazy. As I let her continue, words coming in rapid-fire bursts, she works herself up into a frenzy, hands tossing fitfully this way and that. Aren’t you meant to humor folks like this? Don’t shock them with an introduction to logical facts, ease them into it?

So, I nod my head as if I understood precisely what she was trying to communicate. “Don’t worry, you look pretty enough for a party, but we’re both sweatin’ and could probably use a dunk in the water. There’s a stream back a ways, close to where I made camp. If you like to freshen up, I’ll try and find us something to cook for dinner.” I’ve never given much heed to helping others, not that I’d turn someone away, just used to being on my lonesome. This woman is so pathetically helpless that I can’t ignore. The least I can do is put a meal in her; maybe it’d be enough to help straighten out her head. A little food works wonders.

With one hand, I beckon her to follow, and turn my footsteps in a slow tramp back where I know water flows. I only hope it’s not to late to take down some critter, because the sun’s hit its peak, and my stomach is beginning to give off steady complaints.

kneedles

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I won't want for love (kheft, blitz) May 29, 2012 7:04:23 GMT -5

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Post by kneedles on May 29, 2012 7:04:23 GMT -5

Oh but he is kind. The way that you used to be; to your detriment, My Love, at a time when the world was cruel and kind hearts were the first to stop beating. But kindness is born of kindness is it not? I hope it is, playing with my hair and smiling shyly as he says I look pretty enough for a party, picking at one of the many knots in my hair, stuck over with mud and bristle. I don’t feel hungry, not anymore, but I suppose I must eat something now that I have found him. I’ll not die now, not if he needs me. Boys always need their mother. Following closely behind him, my step finds a light skip. We are going to his camp. He has a home, for now, but how ever did he come to be in the woods?

“You aren’t alone?”I ask worriedly, peering out through the trees, hoping to see wandering gypsies, smoke rising from camp fires, people that love him. “I….I…they promised me they would find people for you…where are the people?” I can’t bear to think of him as lonely as we have been in our deaths. “I would never have…” my words are cut short however as we reach the camp. The smell of the water and the moss that grows on the rocks in the cool path of the stream reminds me of a dream I had once and the trickle between worn down pebbles could almost be laughter. My dry mouth stretches into an ‘oh’ and the sounds strikes at a core in my heart left solely for desire.

I run forward and drop to my knees at the bank, muddying up my knees and plunging my hands into the water. I drink deeply and fully and give thanks to you for giving me nourishment.