Now, listen ‘ere… I got a story to tell…
I’ve ‘ad an itch for several moons now.
Not the type of itch ye get from squeezing ‘yer mere pecker into a bottle, but the type o’ itch you feel the urge to reach for your Flintlock pistol. It sends shudders down me spine.
Though, I have quite the smile attached to me mug.
So, enough pirate. I didn’t even start this post aiming for pirate, but here we are. Let me tell you my thoughts through the eyes of a character from my book.
“You know me, you’ve always known me. You’ve held my heart, and I’ve held yours. We traversed many journeys together, and succumbed to the magic of blood, together. We’ve lived many lives, and laughed at death in the face. We’ve been stabbed, cut, and we’ve bled, together. One time, we died, by each other. Literally. You put your hands on my curves, and called me yours. You always came to find me, but for this time; this time, I came to find you.”
I blew out the torch I carried. As much as I loved the warmth of the light, it hindered my sight, and I felt this plaguing urge to feel the cold against my skin.
“I like your preparing moods. I’ve watched you spend time with your friends, and your lover. You’re having mood swings, going through motions as if you’re bracing yourself for a challenge. Warning: You should watch what you say, and what you do, because kittens have teeth, well, at least claws. You’ve always had this nine-point view, and as much as it is admirable, it is hellish to watch. Part of me wants to hit you every time you get into these things.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, and let out a sigh. My breath lingered in the air like a plume of fog, slowly dissipating.
“I wish you’d look in front of you, rather than twenty steps ahead. Sure, you have your end goal, but it’s no good without the push for the hard-work in front of you. You read each page, hoping for distractions, dying to be social, but wanting to be alone. It seems you’re at an impasse. I wish I could help, like I did when I picked you up off the floor, way-back-then.”
“I do pick-up the gawking. The admiration you have for one or two others around you. It’s reminiscent of the way you looked at me. It’s like a devotion, a trust, a bond that you seem to silence. For all your words, you have none for it, or at least not any more.”
I stopped, and backed up to a tree, feeling an icy-cold touch on my cheek. I shuddered, tightening my grip on my cloak, and covering my head in the fur of my hood.
“Just tell me one thing… can you justify an hour at the gym, 15 pages of one book, and 30 pages of another? Shouldn’t you be trying harder? Getting stronger? Faster? you always did act like quite the copy-cat. Maybe, what you need, is someone better, stronger, faster, to compete with. Maybe, you miss the competition. It’s time like these, where I wish Trinson would stand against you.”
Well, hopefully you won’t forget everything we taught you, and everything you taught us. Remember me as the woman you could never catch up with.
Please, remember to write this story of ours. Not a single soul will do it for you.
The Red Rose.