Pure fiction

Fire overtook my heart, and ice my mind. A thin fog veiled my sight, covering my world with a sweet pink tint. Limbs turned to jelly, mind slowed to a crawl, and my person reduced to a blubbering wreck, I ogled the ridiculously beautiful lady that stood before me. She smiled, an incandescent smile that instantly illuminated my world, and in a sweet chordal voice introduced herself.

Was it Tiffany, or was it Tiffy? I wasn't sure, overwhelmed as I was with her presence. I desperately wanted to say something intelligent,something witty, funny that would make her laugh her melodious tinkling laugh; make her smile that beautiful brilliant smile; and make her like me. 

I opened my mouth, as a dozen disjointed thoughts surged through my mind. Should I throw out a witty pickup line, like "Do you belief in love at first sight, or should I come back later?", or should I try something more suggestive, like "Is your family into baking, cuz you have nice buns". Would that be cute, funny, or just puerile cheesy? What would be funny, nice and likeable to her? I started out with the witty pick up line:

"Urgh murgh miahgle...." My tongue curled around itself, as the sweet pink fog tied up my throat, and froze my thoughts. I tried to smile, and gloss over the social faux pas, but I probably looked more like a strangled toad, especially with the gurgling I was making. 

She giggled, a cute innocent tinkle, that melted my heart, and slackened my jaw. My eyes became dreamy, vacant, much like a sluggish torpor induced by narcotics. Beguiled by the smile, my regular demeanour crumbled, leaving me an exposed, stammering wreck. She reached out, and poked me in my rather ample midriff, that bewitching smile never leaving her countenance for one moment.

Tongue-tied, I flushed a deep crimson, as my heart rate accelerated. Giddy with infatuation, my breathing became shallow and rapid. Mentally, I kicked myself, as I struggled to pull myself together to give some form of a response; I wanted to... I needed to...ermmmm... I didn't even know! A thick white fog had obscured my mind, clouding up, and crowding out my other thoughts. 

Indecision washed over me, as desire and hesitance embroiled in a fight for dominance. The former
eventually overcame the latter, and palms slick with sweat, I endeavoured to speak once more. "I..gahmm..."

"Aren't you so cute!" She quipped, smiling her breathtakingly beautiful smile. Oh how I wanted to reach forth, to kiss her, to release the sexual tension within me. Her allure, in her flawless beauty, her quirky, loveable mannerisms, and her exitable demeanor proved impossible to resist. I couldn't afford to bungle this! I desperately wanted her to feel about me the same way I did about her, to meld together to form the most perfect puzzle, to explore the wildest adventures with her by my side. I just couldn't screw this up!

But I did. As I watched her stalk away, creeped out, I sighed inwardly. What a spectacular failure that was. I sat down, watching her exquisite frame disappear into the crowd, as once more, loneliness engulfed me. Biting into the enticing fruit of love, I realised, belatedly, that it was sour.

Flames

My friend, again you return,?
To a land that you vowed to leave forever?
Perhaps this time, to bring an end
To the tragic story that was penned.

He strode ahead, through the thick underbrush of dumbapple trees, and Banora White shrubs, onto a cliff overlooking the old town. The wind moaned a mournful, high pitched howl, and behind him, the rustling and creaking of the trees could be heard. Faintly, very faintly. Soft, but yet, ever-present; unavoidable; inevitable. It lay just within his hearing, scything through his mind, agonizing, its source unidentifiable. Perturbed, he sat, and looked down.

Along with the wind came a sight he had attempted to evade for many years now. A quaint old village, small and petite, with small wisps of smoke wafting above it. One of the last of its kind, it stood, defiantly, in the small clearing before him. It had been awhile, but it looked the same, unchanged, unaffected by the passing of time. He stood, abruptly. It may be unchanged, but he was no longer the same person he used to be. Fire filled his mind, and ice gathered in his heart.

No. He was most definitely not the same.

Two long years had past since he last stepped into the village. Two long years since he left this place, left the indignities it had thrown at him, and sworn never to return. Two long years, he had bided his time, waited, ever so patiently. But no more. It was time. It was most definitely time.

He tread his way along the path, looking ahead, seeing the village, silent, and ever so foreboding,  grow larger before him. He looked about him, at the dumbapple trees overlooking the path, and the ravens perched upon the branches. As he walked, the ravens looked on, beady yellow eyes trained upon his every move. A raven crowed, a tragic cry morphing rapidly into the moan of the wind.

He shivered. How he hated these thing. Waving his hand, he yelled "Begone!" Insolent things. How he wanted to kill then, to burn the flock, one by one. He shrugged mentally. Not now, he had more important things on his agenda. This affront can wait.

Striding through the village, he glared at the gawking villages. Ruddy bumkins. So what if he decided to return? What was it to them? He knew they were staring, so he glared right back. He swept past one of the old oil deposits only used by villages such as these. One of those stupid old fashioned things part of this old fashioned village. Downright stupid. pointless, idiotic waste of space. Not to mention fire hazard.

He stopped, at the door of the house directly beside the oil deposit, turning to face the old woman that had just come out of the house. While stooped, and aged, she still kept herself immaculately groomed, clutching at the last vestiges of pride and dignity. Peering up at his face, she spoke, quietly, "So, you are back, aren't you?"

"Indeed I am, and for good reason."

She turned to the onlooking crowd, "Its just a visit, from my... son. I'll be fine", turning to him, she continued " Let's talk inside". He laughed, without mirth. "As you say.... mother" he spat. She walked through the doorway, and the door shut, with a muffled, fatalistic, thump.

To a distant observer, there would be no way to see what was happening within. The dark damp cottage had little in the way of windows, the few of those were covered with dark cretonne drapes. If one paid close enough attention, one might have heard the soft murmur of conversation, tense, and hushed.

The atmosphere in the cottage was static, each comment passed brought out a spark of anger and resentment. It wasnt long before the conversation grew louder, more intense, and the him yelling in fury and frustration, and her following with a terse and short retaliation. The door flew open, and he came stomping out, shouting.

"Its all your fault, that I'm like that!  If you had been more careful, more caring, and less of a conceited egocentric nut, all would be well!"

A soft reply, conciliatory.

"I don't need your concern! Its too late! Its 20 years too late!" She stretched out her hand, reaching out to him, but he slapped it away. "Go away! I don't need your false sympathy, or your hypocrisy!" He slammed the door shut, in her face.

She sank back down onto the chair, placing her head between her hands, warm tears streaming down her face. She wanted to scream, to shout, just like him, to lose control of herself like he was doing. But she couldn't. She had her dignity, and her honour. Her frame shook as she wavered, on the brink of an emotional breakdown, the sheer force of her will holding her back. She couldn't lose control of herself. Not even now. But did he think she wanted to? Did he think she had a choice? She didn't, not then, not now. Did he think her unaffected, and not hurt by the happenings of the past. She was! Even more so than he. Guilt rushed up to her heart, trammelling and stoppering up the access of other emotions. Her head clouded, and her frame wilted.

She reached over wrapping her hands around the knife on the utensils rack. Slowly, gradually, she placed the knife on her wrist, and sliced. The blood rushed out of the severed artery, warm, emotional, and unburdened, it poured out onto the table. Free and unrestrained by the confines of her frame, her blood splashed across the surface, and dripped down the sides of the table, onto the floor. Gillian closed her eyes, as life left her, and the last thought that inched, sluggishly, across her rapidly fading mind was: I'm sorry, Angeal.

In a frenzy of rage and anger, he sprinted back up the path, back to the cliff that overlooked the village. Hand trembling with frustrating, he took out the detonator from his pocket, and detonated the package lying in the oil deposit. The explosion ignited a large portion of the village, and the hungry flame licked at the remainder, devouring all that was in sight.

Screams and shouts came from the houses, as the villagers scrambled to extinguish the fire, but to no avail. The ravens took off, squawking in surprise and indignation, a dark flock obscuring the sun.

The ravens faded into the distance, a dark spot slowly growing smaller and smaller. They were unscathed, with the exception of two ravens. Smoking, and wings charred, the two ravens plummetted from the sky, flapping its wings rapidly, but without avil. Slowly, they tumbled from the sky, crashing on the floor, dead.

He watched the ravens fall from the sky , but felt no joy. Sweeping his long hair aside, he placed his palm on his scarred face. On the twenty year old burn scar tissues that covered more than half his countenance. The features that got him branded a freaker, delinquant and criminal. The features created by his mother, by leaving his cot beside the flames. He closed his eyes. Retribution. At last. How long he had waited for that moment.

Slowly, he turned around, his back facing the flames that engulfed the village behind him. Eyes shut, Angeal leapt, gracefully, off the cliff, into the flames. A silent spark, finally extinguished.

The flames began to die down, as the fuel slowly ran out. All but one of the dumbapples had been burnt, and the final one hung, smoking, on a charred branch, as flames slowly consumed it from within. Burnt out, hollowed, and drained of all moisture, the dumbapple slowly fell to the floor. Upon impact, the dumbapple disintegrated, joining the ashes on the floor.

With a final majestic groan, the dumbapple tree followed suit. Burnt, and weary of fighting, the tree collapsed, disintegrating, and joining the dumbapples ashes on the burnt clearing floor.

The fire burnt itself out, eventually. The proud quaint village, was no more, burnt into nothing but wifts of smoke rising into the sky, joining the clouds above, finally free.

At last, free.

Slowly, it begun to rain.

Ash to ashes, and dust to dust. What begun in flames ended in flames. Angeal was finally home, and at last, he, was free.

My friend, do you fly away now?
To a world that abhors you and I?
All that awaits you is a somber morrow
No matter where the winds may blow

The fear, and the twist

It stood, tall and mighty, lurking in that dark, shadowy corner; quiet, unmoving, and yet ever so insidious. It had been there, watching me, waiting, biding its time, for so long now. Even now, as I stood staring at it, I felt cowed by its presence; felt myself quiver, as absolute terror gripped my heart.

The light from outside the window illuminated it, ever so slightly, casting a fearsome series of shadows, both on, and around it. I trembled, hesitantly taking the tiniest, infinitesimal step forth. Trepidation; anxiety; consternation; and pure, unadulterated fear expanded within me.

Do I want to do this? More importantly, should I? Can I?

I took another tentative step forwards, and reached out...

Icy cold terror assailed me, pushing me back, even as I valiantly struggled to push forth. The feelings within me embroiled in a fight for dominance - desire, versus fear; need against terror; want combatting trepidation. I tried again, and again, but I simply could not do it!

I desperately wanted what lay within... needed, even. The cold chill against my skin intensified, creating goosebumps, making me shiver.

But to get what I desired, I needed to overcome my age old nemesis, my greatest fear... I had to push forth, open the door that lay before me, and confront it.

A jagged edge of lightning illuminated the purplish black sky beyond, just for that one moment, and just for that one singular moment, I could see. A boom of thunder ensued. I jumped

I do want to do this, I should do this, but can I? I surged forth once again, determined to do it this time, to finally do what I had wanted to do for so long.

Fear crashed into me once more, immutable, inescapable terror gripped my heart, and my mind. I stumbled back, terrified, and in doing so crashed into a chair that lay directly behind me. It fell, with a loud, and nasty crack. Lights immediately materialised outside, and the door to my room crashed open...

The lights flicked on.

"Ted... WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING!"

I trembled, too nervous to speak.

"You just can't take a sweater without knocking over the chair, can you! You're ridiculous." With that, he stomped over and snatched the sweater out of closet.

As the lights flicked off, and my door closed, I silently thanked Dad for saving the day once more. I gave my closet one last baleful glare.

Next time. Next time I will succeed, for the first time in my 6 year old life.

Just you wait... I will be back.

Finally finished this

Am bored, so am writing stores to fill my spare time

He reached out, extending a hand to draw the curtains before him. Pausing for an infinitesimal moment, he inhaled the sweet musty smell it exuded, felt the multitudinous strands of fibre within the dusty cretonne in his hands, heard its soft rustle within his hands.

It felt the same, just as it had done in the innumerable occasions in the past.

But it was gratifying all the same.

The heavy, musty curtains swung slowly to the side as the dark confining windows slowly lifted. A fresh gust of air entered the room, displacing the cool, musty and stale air around him.

He sniffed; it was, among other things, the smell of petrichor, of moisture.

He stood to the side, as the latest breeze brought about a thick mist of rainwater in the small dank room. The mist sank slowly toward the ground, losing the battle to gravity, as its weight brought its efforts to fruitlessness.

As if the room needed more moisture.

He spun back towards the window, drawing it shut with a bang.

Spinning on the spot, he then marched calmly across the room, towards the door.

Something hit him, hard. Then it was gone, just as quickly as it came. He turned back, and again.

What was it? It had been a growing seed of doubt niggling in his mind for sometime now; a thought that had been bothering him for so long he had almost learnt to ignore it; to ignore its occasional sudden appearances in his mind...

It hit him, again, hard; escape!

He had to escape; to leave this place, to go to find...to find...

To find what? What was left out there? Who would still welcome him?

Frustrated, he ripped the curtains open again, and stared out at the quiet, barred and insidious street before him. A place which was his prison, his hell, the last place he wanted to be!

Yet, it was his home, his shelter, his last remaining place...

Torn, he leaped onto the small bed behind him, searching, seeking for the solace of his sheets. He tried to hold it back, but the warm droplets of emotion burst forth from within, uninvited, but inescapable, inevitable; flame on his cold, hard, and jaded exterior. He cried like he never had before, as though the emotion and feeling within him could no longer be contained, or held in. As he sobbed, fear, sadness and indecision left him, as though he were undergoing absolution; catharsis, flooding out of his eyes with his tears.

But just as quickly, anger filled him, expanding within him, taking over his emotions, his mind, and his very soul! Why did it have to be him? Why did he have to suffer? Why was he forced to lose everything?! The rage congealed at the bottom of his skull, blocking all other feelings; stoppering up the access of all other thoughts. He wanted to strike something, someone; lash out; injure; hurt!

He leapt up, running to the door; screaming; banging; bouncing his hatred off the walls.  He wanted to get out, he NEEDED to get out!

But he couldn't. He kicked, yelled, screeched, but no one came...

Once again, he sat down, in defeat, and in pain, back into the dreary rhythm of life.

The wheel turned, the seconds ticked by, as time passed. What did he care? Time meant nothing to him.

Then, a knock. and another, as the scraping sound of a key entering a lock was heard. The door opened, and a shaft of light entered the room.

A head, followed by a voice..

"Dear, you have visitors..."