IMPETUOUSLY
07-21-2014, 11:51 PM
I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root.
Caked with the dirt of endless miles treaded by tired and calloused feet those same tired and bone bare digits drag forward an equally bare body. Doe like - those lean limbs pulled that dark, starving body into familiar ground as large eyes stare with endless caution. Circe has survived her first winter. It is time for fattening the sinew which is left of her but she is relentlessly drawn to the redwoods like a horse led violently by it's bridle, the mouth bloody and foaming at the sharp bit. She almost does not remember. The obscure and dreamlike images which have guided her lack any memory of a family.
It is what you fear.
She is hard like the earth. Like the dirt and rock against those worn pads and she has invested little thought in her creation. Assuming only that she was derived of that very hardness. Careful and calculated her stride comes to a sudden halt within the depths of the forest. Fleshy and the color of charcoal her nose first lowers to the ground and then rises skyward, lips curling to bare bone-white teeth. Trespasser the word echoes within her typically barren thoughts. Hackles raise as the scent amplifies. Her tail slashes the air with anxiety. She is frozen, all but one hovering limb firmly planted on that hard earth that she had thought was hers.
I do not fear it, I have been there.
07-22-2014, 12:18 AM
Is it the sea you hear in me,
At the first sound of approach the girl's face whips sharply in the direction of her company. The whites of her eyes shining with eerie contrast to her dark irises beneath the sallow sun. She barks with maleficence. Backoff. She turns to face the stranger head on as parted jowls seek her sent with desperate intent. At first Circe feels trust. In her poor state her first instinct is to follow. Her tail curls and tucks neatly between two thin, sharp thighs. Secondly, Circe feels comfort. This stranger is a woman and a mother. The idea is alien to her but instinct draws further submission and her tense stance softens. Superior. Pregnant. Unfamiliar.Thirdly, Circe realizes the stranger has spoken. It has been long since she has heard any speech and for the few tense minutes shared between them the speech is intelligible. Her mind races to understand the stranger, but her fear and confusion strikes first. A rigid spine bends to expose sacred geometry, ears fold and tauten a starving face. Yet Circe chooses to whine rather than to snarl, that choice posing a specific inquiry -- Will you hurt me?
Its dissatisfactions?
07-22-2014, 12:55 AM
Or the voice of nothing, that was your madness?
Unable to properly communicate with the woman, her sentences are acknowledged with a second, and then third whine. Each incomprehensible sentence brings Circe comfort. Each slow step brings Circe anxiety. She has slowly folded unto herself, first sitting, then laying. She finds herself coiled upon the ground. Shrinking in a half-hearted retreat. Teeth are ever bare but those black lips relax as short breaths expel from withered lungs. She pants, doglike, with a softened expression as if she were some pet leashed to this woman. Ears twitch, fold slowly this way and that as Circe attempts to understand. Help. Circe finds herself nodding with half comprehension.
Love is a shadow.
07-28-2014, 03:10 AM