Pale Spikes

Posted: December 30, 2007 in Beauty, Dark, Fantasy, Life, Love, Musings, Romance, Snippet, Women

The sun rises with an electric squeal from the lead guitar; the tempo shifts to match your mood as bass lines grab hold of you with swaying rhythm. Watery pools shudder with reverberating force and she breaks free of a liquid prison.
Her hair is icicle-perfect, cut short and sharp, tinted to the white of snow and fringing the tan face below. The two dark green eyes are near-radioactive and bright with experience and boredom. She whistles; the smooth sound cuts through the static of radio stations and hopeless romantics.
With nothing to bluster about, you and the fools clinging to the edge of her presence are mere children with silent, flapping mouths. She fans her hand out to reveal creamy, spike-like talons tinged with dark, mauve stains of past bloody battles with other such morons as those before her now.
All but you scatter; you’ve held your dream in and had too much at stake in the past to let her go now. The sticks fall, drums joining the chorus of energy and the beat intensifies as she glares at you with the smoldering intensity of the sun that rises behind her.
She moves from the pool to the bog surrounding her private pond. Only in water can a person be laid bare for their reality, and the sun dries her too quickly for the naked eye to see her change.
Her hair lengthens and she ties it back with a band before it can sweep about her shoulders; it darkens and turns rapidly to a mousy brown. Her mysterious, flashing green eyes become dull and brackish as they lose clarity beneath heat.
She takes a step, falls, you catch her and hold her close as her shoulders shake with a silent protest. The tears streaming down her face touch your lips, and the bitter salt makes you close your eyes and draw her to you.

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