"What do you mean?"
My throat burns and my voice comes out scratchy.
"Unprepared for what?"
She ignores me although maybe she just can't hear my shouting over the howling wind outside of our protective bubble. Which makes no sense.
She has no problem knowing what I'm thinking, s(more)he doesn't need to hear me to know what I'm saying.
"You still haven't figured it out yet chica?"
She walks on air, small deliberate lady-steps emphasizing the sway of her hips as she turns away from me, her head cocked to the side as she faces west.
"Give the Muse a prize for stating the obvious," I can't hide the annoyance in my voice but then again I can't hide anything from her.
And she can't hide her preening smile at my capitalization of her "title", for lack of a better word.
"You are learning chica, gotta give you that," she laughs as she says this but there's something in her voice I've never heard from her before.
If I stretch my imagination far enough I might even say there's a tiny tinge of compassion somewhere in the tone of her voice.
"Do you hear that chica?" She continues to stare westward, head still cocked to the side.
It looks like she's straining to hear whatever it is I can't hear through the insane wind blowing what looks like a desert's worth of sand around our invisible bubble.
"It's happening," she whispers directly into my mind. "It's started chica, I'm afraid it's too late."
I stand next to her, me in my clunky red desert-boots and she in her pink Prada pumps but all I can see is sand.
Her hand reaches for mine and I see what's happening as if I have a front-row-seat.
It's the Final Battle.(less)
It was a beautiful day.
The sun shone down gently, and the wind through the trees was a sweet music to her ears.
She was lying on the towel in her swimsuit, working on her tan. Although, to be honest, there wasn't much left to work on. Her sk(more)in was a rich caramel color, the color of coffee, and it made her look delicious.
All this was running through Drummond's mind as he walked up the narrow bike path towards where she lay on the sand, near the beach.
The picnic basket rattled satisfyingly at his side as he swaggered over to her and laid down at her side with a contented sigh. She really was quite lovely, he reflected. A little vain, perhaps, and shallow, but that made no impact on her outward attractiveness.
He woke her with a soft kiss on her full lips, her stunning green eyes flashing open as she returned the kiss with gusto.
When they were done, he rolled over and grinned lazily at her.
It was, she thought, a carnivore's grin, a predator's grin. A wolfish snarl of a grin, pouring out a message of testosterone and attitude. She opened her mouth to say something, something witty perhaps, when she stopped, frozen, her mouth half open.
He glanced at her and froze as well, struck by her terrified expression.
Her eyes bored into something above his right shoulder, her mouth stretched open, and he could hear in it the first throaty beginnings of a woman's scream. He spun quick as lightning over to his other side and got an eyeful of what was causing her such distress and he didn't blame her for screaming. Shortly after that he wasn't in a condition to blame her for anything at all.(less)
lost in the words you spoke so many months, weeks, hours ago
echoing dark and scary
bouncing in recesses of my mind
tip-toeing through the corners
stomping in the brush
(more) mighty oaks of harsh words
snapping twigs of cruelty
shadows of poisonous vines
i stand in the middle of a forest of words
you have left me lost here
i no longer know the way to turn
i know not the way home(less)