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Entry tags:
twiddle
(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.)
"Masks"
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?
"Masks"
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?
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Mind if I send you a writing fragment?
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My writing muscles are very out of shape. I'm lucky to get 600 words out. It's incredibly frustrating...apparently, divorce fries one's ability to write.
But..thank you for liking! *smooch*
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Kisses back at you.
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