On Growing an Ocean's Tail EXCERPT

3ww prompt: Ache, Difference, Suffer

I began the story Growing An Ocean's Tail a while back to read it from the beginning click here:
Growing An Ocean's Tail. The last post was part II (just scroll down) and this is the third effort to work on the story and it is only an excerpt so you can read it with out reading any previous posts.

La Sirena sketch by marisol diaz

There were days that I felt collided into each other. I would lay on my back in a state of sloth like paralysis and I stared at the ceiling. Layers of my vision overlapped in transparent stacks, shifting constantly. The mattress became placenta and the room a maternal womb. I struggled to imagine the possibility of ever being able to get up again. It felt as though air was leaving me. When I could, I strained to turn my gaze towards the window I was in awe of how quickly the sun rose and set and rose again. It was painful to imagine sitting up. It wasn't until the day I heard the lock rattle and his sweet whistle, that beads of sweat tumbled down my brow and puddled over my lip, beckoning me to move again.

I needed to know what was happening to me, to hear him calling made my entire body ache all over. What had he done to me? How had he done this to me? He immobilized me in order to need him, and I was captured in the net. Is this what had happened to Lily? Had she disappeared not fled? He was all I had and so I had to get up.

"I have the key, I can unlock you from this place all you have to do is say the word." He spoke in sonar as I stood there unsteady staring, trying to place the phonetic beats of his words.
"Where is Lily?"
"What's the difference, where she is?"
He reached his hand through the gate swiping tears of sweat off my forehead coldly. He pressed his head tightly up against the bars.
"Did she really matter that much to you? I can make it so that you can see her again, if you let me take you out of here."
I couldn't make out my emotions, relieved for his arrival yet terrified down to my bones of him. I tried to talk but words began to fail me...my lips felt fused together muted into a frown.
"Tell me to open the gate and I'll show you what happened to your friend."
I used one hand to steady myself and other hand with its shaking fingers to part my lips. I was done fighting.
"Open the gate."

He slipped the iron key through the weathered lock and eased it into action so swiftly that I thought the lock must have had a soul. I thought quickly of my room and my mind fell on the flower...I would most likely never see her again. Somehow I knew that.

I was laying against his chest and I could smell the tanned leather of his vest, hear the rattling of all the seed chains he wore, but I heard no beat. He held me tight at that moment, practically in a restraint. He began to whisper silky words into my ear.

"I didn't want her to suffer, sometimes the girls can suffer much too much and it makes the transition that much harder."
My eyes began to roll towards the back of my head and the sounds of his words began to turn into images, flashes of Lily. I saw it all. They were in a body of water, entwined like lovers, she was excited, joyful and unaware, they swam underwater resurfacing to kiss, the intimacy between them was like sour gummy bears, and then the pulse happened, a flash of dark determination, and I felt her buckle up tense, I saw him grab her head with both of his huge hands and hold her wailing body under water, I felt her kick and jut like a wild horse, when I realized her air was gone, everything went still and I opened my eyes to face him.

On Growing an Ocean's Tail Part II

3ww prompt: Desperate, Lapsed, Traveled

This piece is a continuation,,,please click on: Growing An Ocean's Tail to read part I.

On Growing An Ocean's Tale Self-Portrait

Lily was desperate. Time had lapsed in a painfully slow way. Even my bud seemed to halt all growth. I couldn't tell you how many days passed during what felt like no time at all. I began to feel restless my self, though I was still adamant on never ordering a key. Our hosts became more reclusive and began to simply leave the meals, even dinner simply sitting on the table for us. Lily took to pacing. She spent what felt like hours holding onto the gate staring out to the open, often empty road. Thats when the dreams started.

There was nothing around me only a haze of hot air. I could feel my bare feet sinking and recognized the sand's texture embracing my toes. In every direction there was only sand. I began to feel thirst as though I were a plant in desperate need of hydration, my emerald skin, shriveling into itself seeking moisture. Finally with no sound emanating from my throat I would start to cry just to gain liquid for breadth and challenge the dehydration. Thats when I saw the sirens emerging all around from the golden glittering sand and as ridiculous as it sounds they danced like Salome. Each looked so unique and so utterly brilliant like light splitting through a faceted jewel. They introduced themselves to me. I can't remember any of their names but one, the one who said she didn't arrive like the others, like me. She said she traveled to be here, willingly, knowingly and at peace. Her name was Tamara. That was when I would wake up with my hands wrapped around my throat gasping for air.

Old Habits Die Hard, I Know I Kill Them

3ww prompt: bored, habit, settle

Habit Killer Self-Portrait

Maybe being addicted to the sound of their necks snapping like crispy twigs is itself a habit, in which case I would surely be my own greatest enemy. I can't tell you when exactly it started. I just know that the second my old friends, slothful Comfort, Familiarity and Inertia come around to visit, the beast within me rises.

Some people don't admit they're capable of committing such atrocities. They like to think its that they're a 'renaissance soul' or a 'scanner' always moving on to a new interest and having such a multi-task-able-and-ever-open mind - They commend themselves for being varied in interests, but really its that we're murderers.

We like to take that newly found virgin habit, exhaust it, master it, shake it up and turn it inside out, drink all of its blood, swallow its life-source, until it has nothing left to give. Until it lays there motionless. We kick it and wonder why it doesn't dance for us anymore, then we have the audacity to say 'I'm bored'. And once that invocation is spoken, there is no leashing that wicked killer in me. Who must then pluck off that old habit's limbs to erase it, until it exists only as a memory of something you once had. Gruesome I know - its what I am, what I've been, hey at least I'm honest. I don't settle.

Oh yeah, I know there is that habit, but people are different kinds of habits...for one, their life span is a whole hell of a lot longer. Still here is a classic piece of advice: Keep your marital door locked from old friends that might want to come visit - like Comfort, Familiarity (these days I hear she's had a couple of abhorring kids) and Inertia. If you hear those guys come a knockin' you better start switchin' things up or simply accept the murderer in yourself.

observations

Sunday Scribblings prompt: observations

Detail of Louis Vuitton Window from my NYC Windows series on my FLICKR

Observations

The world is transforming at a faster speed unearthing the ground right below our feet.

Art is breaking through like an unruly weed that will not be deterred by herbicides, in fact it only mutates to champion the current chemical composition of our air.

We call it guerilla art - because it will not be contained or owned.

It sneaks up on you and attacks, permeates in a military fashion.

The creatives will champion the future as they redefine conventional thinking, replace the techno-logical mastery that is outsourced. However we are growing appendages in the visage of pods, berries, and other digital gadgets.

Soon my hands and eyes will be windows... extensions of my thoughts.

Our youth don't hear each other, instead they read each other 'texting' and 'iming' a new language of acronyms- lmfao. Virtual relationships dominate the living. This new dimension is surreal to those who refuse to enter the terrain...the internet has become the secret garden and those outside of it 'the antiquated architecture' or so says the master.

I'm not sure how much of my human flesh can be shared, translated into html, coded, programmed and posted...I'm not sure how much should be. I just know it is now always on my person.

http://sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/

On Ghosts

Sunday Scribblings prompt; Ghost

I don't believe in ghosts, but I dare say that is just an issue of semantics...for I'm not moved very much by the stereotypical popularized version of a 'ghost'. I do however believe that there are haunting energy fields and there is most certainly spirit in anything - if you want there to be, good or bad. I believe there are objects infused with spirit - meaning and life force. Therefore I believe it possible to manifest a Prana (life force) into an inanimate object, but that's nothing compared to what I used to believe as a kid.

When I was little I believed deeply in 'ghosts' as we popularly define the word today. In fact, I used to see one - I remember her clearly. A woman in a white baby-doll-type dress standing in my doorway. However, my imagination was more active than it is today (if that's possible) and I also believed in a 'boogy-man'. He was an exact likeness of the fictional character Uncle Sam. I used to think I had ten seconds to get from the light switch to my bed (which was across the room) in the darkness before Uncle Sam would reach his hand out for me and say "I said I WANT you!!" at which time I feared he would grab/catch me and steal me away into the ether. Actually, come to think of it a scary old, crotchety, tall, anorexic, white man is kind of scary. And if thats not the most ridiculous child fear you've ever heard - I also believed that I had absolutely NO privacy...and I mean NO privacy. Even when I was alone I envisioned all my classmates (especially the boys who I abhorred and feared) lived inside of the walls of my room and could see my every move.

If I were a 'ghost' I would want to be within an contemporary effigy- not a doll (like Chucky), but more like a mannequin - as in that popular eighties movie Mannequin- I would want to come to physical-life after dark...wouldn't that be fun! But if I could walk through walls, turn invisible on a whim, and possibly teleport myself anywhere that wouldn't be bad either.

>http://sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/