Bandit|Queen
09-17-2008, 01:31 AM
This has nothing to do with TorD or M/s I know but I don't know of anywhere else to post it. So don't read it if you don't wana :)
She sits, quite alone, still and almost thoughtless. The constant sound of the welling water the only sound to fill her mind, her eyes fixed on that one point of rock. The water changes. Sometimes it is black other times almost blue but always with an almost overpowering sheet of grey that never lifts.
She no longer looks at the water, she can predict what it will be each day now. Occasionally she glances up to watch a distant bird swirl across the dull and dying sun. She tightens her arms around her knees, pulling them closer to her chest, feeling the coldness of her skin pressing to her aching body.
Her body aches not from tiredness or over use, but the deep longing to feel warmth and love against it once more, to look up at the sun and be blinded by its brilliant brightness, to watch the birds climb higher and higher with her spirits and feel the grey sheet lift and disappear.
But she sits, quite alone, still and almost thoughtless, waiting. Waiting for that moment when she will rise from that jagged rock, stretch and shake the years of no light from her being and swim amongst the bright blue waters.
He comes. Not in a blaze of light or on a big white horse. Just quietly behind her, wrapping his arms around her battered body, lifting her carefully and slowly to her shaky feet. The bruising from the many years of sitting on the sharp and uneven rock clearly visible on her body, but somehow forgotten as they slip down into the cool and soothing water.
Her hand clings to the rock, afraid to let go of that one place she knows, afraid he will let go of her and leave her to drown in the surrounding waters. But he stays, waiting for her to let go of the last of the rock in her own uneven time. Her fingers slide into the water, the coldness of the rock no longer pressing to her body. Just his warmth around her as they drift in the current, watching the rock get ever smaller as the grey sheet lifts and the sun starts to wake.
She still bears the scars and bruises from that lonely and jagged rock, but it is far away, far enough for her to almost forget that lonely place and be content to sit in the long and swaying grass, watching the birds swirl over the blinding sun with his love welling about her.
They sit, together, hardly ever still and full of thoughts of what may come.
She sits, quite alone, still and almost thoughtless. The constant sound of the welling water the only sound to fill her mind, her eyes fixed on that one point of rock. The water changes. Sometimes it is black other times almost blue but always with an almost overpowering sheet of grey that never lifts.
She no longer looks at the water, she can predict what it will be each day now. Occasionally she glances up to watch a distant bird swirl across the dull and dying sun. She tightens her arms around her knees, pulling them closer to her chest, feeling the coldness of her skin pressing to her aching body.
Her body aches not from tiredness or over use, but the deep longing to feel warmth and love against it once more, to look up at the sun and be blinded by its brilliant brightness, to watch the birds climb higher and higher with her spirits and feel the grey sheet lift and disappear.
But she sits, quite alone, still and almost thoughtless, waiting. Waiting for that moment when she will rise from that jagged rock, stretch and shake the years of no light from her being and swim amongst the bright blue waters.
He comes. Not in a blaze of light or on a big white horse. Just quietly behind her, wrapping his arms around her battered body, lifting her carefully and slowly to her shaky feet. The bruising from the many years of sitting on the sharp and uneven rock clearly visible on her body, but somehow forgotten as they slip down into the cool and soothing water.
Her hand clings to the rock, afraid to let go of that one place she knows, afraid he will let go of her and leave her to drown in the surrounding waters. But he stays, waiting for her to let go of the last of the rock in her own uneven time. Her fingers slide into the water, the coldness of the rock no longer pressing to her body. Just his warmth around her as they drift in the current, watching the rock get ever smaller as the grey sheet lifts and the sun starts to wake.
She still bears the scars and bruises from that lonely and jagged rock, but it is far away, far enough for her to almost forget that lonely place and be content to sit in the long and swaying grass, watching the birds swirl over the blinding sun with his love welling about her.
They sit, together, hardly ever still and full of thoughts of what may come.