dampness

A glimpse into Darkside Thursday

It lay before him

The charred remains of a hollowed out corpse. He looked down in bewilderment, eyes wide and frantic and he turned to see the empty auditorium.
I watched him in the dim light, his face awash with confusion. I almost felt sorry for him as he sunk to his knees and placed his head in his hands……almost.

If I hold my breath and strain my ears I can just about hear the low sobs. The slow gulps of realisation catching in his throat, the raspy whisper of his voice repeatedly stating ‘what have I done, what have I done’. Like a mantra he repeats this to himself, rocking back and forth as if this will somehow force him to regain his memory. Clearly this is not going to work for him, I chuckle to myself as I push up the lever.
With a click and a whirring the spotlight hits the stage highlighting the mutilated corpse and forcing him to spring to his feet.

“Who is it? Who’s there?”

His face drained of colour as he frantically looked around. Searching for an answer, searching for the spotlight’s operator…searching for me

Something for Darkside Thursday – To catch up with Andy’s latest darkside then click HERE

My Cold Hearted Boyfriend

He lies beside me at night
As I write the words which sustain me
The noises he makes sometimes distracting
Causing me to look up from my work
Or my useless crap
(as he liked to call it)

Sometimes I move too sudden
And he presses his damp skin on mine
Forcing me to give him a push
To keep him at bay
A little love shove

Then I can carry on
Typing up my masterpiece
Immune to his judgemental silence
And vacant stare

Once I had writers block
Asked for help
Inspiration
Yet he only wanted to sleep
His raspy breath on my arm
Echoes of snuffling and snoring
Reverberating in my ears
Forcing my words to hide
My eyelid to twitch
My knuckles to crack

He doesn’t snore anymore
Though he still lingers
Like a bad smell

Inspired for Darkside Thursday

An affliction of prose

Tearing into the pliable flesh for the first time was exhilarating, the freeing of a caged animal. She took the blade and took another slice, slow, hard, deliberate. No pain until the blood rose to the top of the skin and then the brain’s realisation kicked in and sent a twinge of pain. A tweaking, nagging sultry throbbing that sat just under the sticky substance. She stared at it glistening in the candlelight and tried to question her actions, question her reasoning yet she could not explain she merely knew that the crying had stopped. Instead of tears there lingered a stillness, a release of hurt and pain into something beautiful .. serene. Instinctively she lifted her arm to lick the blood from her being and tasted the sweetness in her mouth that calmed her last few sobs. She watched in wonder as the clean slit of skin refilled with a scarlet trace of angst as her lungs inhaled deeply. The scent of the oil burner filtered through her senses, invading her nostrils, her mouth and she sucked the scent into herself and exhaled. As she sat on the floor with her back pressed to the door she felt a peace that she had not felt in a very long time, maybe not ever. The simple act had managed to encompass the guilt, the hurt, the anger and transform it into a liquid serenity. Wiping her eyes on her sleeve she looked at the floor strewn with used tissues and felt her eyes tired from the lamentation. The mirror propped against the wall reflected the candle burning which had darkened the room yet only helped to highlight the redness in her eyes. She sat watching the flicker of the light for a short while until a soft rapping at the door alerted her that there was still life outside her room.

Some writing pulled out and shared on inspiration from Lori over at Rattling Bones

Go read her post – HEREΒ – It’s a good reminder of how we shouldn’tΒ assume πŸ˜‰

Dampened Soul

There is a sickness in my room

Not visible

But a slow creeping dampness

in the walls

It lingers,

Filters into my eyes, ears and mouth

Silently seeping into my brain

Filling my soul with rot

 

There are no markings

No sign of entry

But I feel it there

Sitting beside me

Tugging at my chest

 

Sometimes I close my eyes and picture another life

White washed walls and a crinoline bedspread

The soft fuzzy nuzzle of a spaniel

A warm heart beating against my arm

 

Though that is another world

Not the murky depths of my cavern

The vast confines of moss covered rocks

A dampness that scores the recesses

That is my abode and a know it well