literature

Liquid life.

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Every-Cloud's avatar
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Literature Text

    Liquid life.
      It came to me the other day that humanity was lost in its own beauty and intelligence. Well I was, the rest of humanity I had little clue about. I sat on a bench by the river, an old bench, wooden and rotting, a rather miserable tribute to a great man who fought in the Great War, a great Dad and an even greater Grandad. The river was running fast, furiously, it was wild, like the cold and the falling snow scared it, as if it thought that if it calmed down it would freeze and stay like that forever. It was beautiful. Beautiful like one can find dangerous things beautiful, fascinating, and intoxicating. It was like the most wonderful beach at the bottom of a cliff, like a forest at night, like the most attractive eyes on the womanising man. One could have sat by that river for days if the cold hadn't bitten into ones skin, chewed on ones flesh and gnawed at ones bones, just watching the water run away.  My heart cried out to join it in its escape, by my mind prevented me from leaving the bench, and refused to allow my feet to move. I was trapped by my own fragile nerves. I took off my gloves, knitted by my own fair hands that turned blue in the cold, tempting my nerves to force me to put them back on, to wimp out against the cold. I picked up the snow with my finger tips, let it fall onto my right palm and melt into liquid life. Or was liquid life blood? I took off the bandage of my left palm and the scarlet gash across my life line: a nail on the stable door to the kitchen this morning. It still bled. Sometimes I wondered if I was a haemophilia carrier like Queen Victoria or the Last Russian Tsar's daughters. I didn't heal quickly, physically, mentally or emotionally. I rubbed my thumb against it and it came off red. I lifted my hand to get a better look in the weak and failing light, a drop rolled down my arm like a tear drop. I guess it was, sort of. I guess it was my body's tear. He thought I'd done it on purpose, cut my hand, but then again the only reason would, would be because of him. He didn't know my anymore, and I had long since stopped knowing him. I hated him, but those eyes could capture me in a glance like a mouse with a cat. What a stupid mouse! Darn cat! Damn him and his cat eyes and his womanising. I hated him. Yet still I talked to him every day when I went to get the milk from the doorstep as he left to go to work, everyday. I felt lost, so lost if I didn't see him; I'd walk around in a daze, lost. But then again I was lost anyway. A lost cause. A lost girl. The girl the tide brought in one day. I dragged myself from my thoughts and returned to watching the river. There were little waves as the wind began to get up. It blew my hair about. It would be awful to untangle later.  The snow got heavier and the river seemed more fearful. "Let me save you?" I heard him behind me, a whisper, a ghost, his voice like melted chocolate, warm, delicious, tempting and bad for ones health. He knew where I'd be. He always knew. He always saved me. Damn cat. Damn man. Damn mouse. Damn me.
I don't really know what this is it just sort of happened so yeah.
Its not that happy, but yeah, it is what it is.
P.S. If you find any grammatical of spelling errors just let me know and I'll change them.
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scarlet-cullen's avatar
I love your writing, it's so poetic.
Kinda feeling like you've got the makings of a great romance story there... I'm intrigued! :D
xxx