elionwyr: (Default)
It was an unexpected ballroom, this darkened crowded space.

She was an accidental princess.

He did not reveal himself to her.

The slipper remained out of sight.

But she drifted into his orbit like the shyest spark of a comet's tail; he noticed, and he glowed, and she turned her face away.

When the clock started its chiming, it was he who had to leave. Too soon whispered between them - oh, too soon sighed their future selves.

He traced satin with blind fingers.

One day perhaps the shoe would fit.
elionwyr: (Default)
He handed me the knife.

You must know I see myself - the unworthy shape of this flesh, the girl forgotten in fairy tales - and yet I dared, for a moment, to turn my face towards the fantasy of him.

Shock made the first few cuts the easiest.

Whittle away the feet to better fit into the shape of his desire. Change the nose, these peasant hands, this belly ill-suited for ballgowns.

I could be a swan if I cut deeply enough.

I sliced myself apart, down to the beauty of my bones.


Oct. 4th, 2009 09:59 pm
elionwyr: (Default)
(For those new to this, "twiddle" is my word for these fragments of stories. Most of the fairy tales are more thorough than this; click on the tag to read those.)


His mouth on my hand, his breath on my skin – I shiver, and try to hide it, and masks slide across his face before he asks the same question he asks every night.

Mystery, mystery. He walks through my dreams as I walk through this house, a cautious exploration of intersecting worlds and undefined intentions.

There are spaces beasts possess in the world and in our minds. I feel his claws in places I thought were mine alone. He moves through my almost-sleep and, shaken, I bare my throat to him as he passes by.

One day, I find him hunting. He kisses me, flicks my knees apart; then stalks off, glancing back a promise. I trace the memory of passion, my lips still bearing the weight and heat of him; I watch him prowl the forest and, not-quite-prey, I stay behind.

We repeat this dance for ages.

And oh, you are the monster because this world tells us that you are. But when I press fingers to my flesh, I feel the fur hiding underneath.

How long before he discovers I am the more dangerous of the beasts?


Oct. 4th, 2009 09:44 pm
elionwyr: (write hard die free)
Her mouth on his body, she longed to find Home.

In his landscape was buried her doubts and desires; his scent blurred her memories; and each gasping climax brought a precious bit of peace.

Not that she confessed it. Not that he'd understand. Afterwards, he slept, uncomplicated focus, as she memorized his profile, as she wished she could follow his perfection.

Of course he wasn't perfect. If he could hear her thoughts, he would protest, point out a litany of faults. But he was full of unrealized music that his body hinted at hearing. It was there, in his lips, in his mischievous eyes. So she kept the secret, and worshipped in her way.


Apr. 19th, 2009 07:57 pm
elionwyr: (clinging)
and i turn my shell-shirt inside out
cling to oak and ash and thorn

moving forward, dark and frightened
across the space no longer owned
by my spirit, by my wandering
by my constant-crying heart

dare not linger at the fire
where flames spit at the night
dare not consider all the bounty
of poisoned wine and feast

you the lodestone lost, grown cold
my feet find not their bearing
circling, slipping, clawing onward
scraping out unchartered ways

thorns and roses bind and climb
i dare not pause to brush away
their whispered plots and misdirection
enchantments, follies, broken dreams


Nov. 25th, 2007 02:44 pm
elionwyr: (Default)

She did not see me today.

Crouched in the shadows of the steps of her home, I lost my nerve once again. I did not call out her name. And I licked back the tears as she strode away on legs of tall white pine.

I have not confessed my love to anyone. The others know not that I travel here not for hunting, but for her. Oh, for her. For the touch of her hand that would tear at my skin, for the touch of her lips that would pull away covered with remnants of my home, my kingdom, my secret waterways, for the passing acknowledgement that even one such as I am worthy of her notice.

If she would only notice me.

Before daylight can burn me, I will return to my pond, and dream of the princess, and dream of release.


Jun. 12th, 2003 02:07 pm
elionwyr: (gasp)
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