"Would you be whiter much whiter than snow
There's power in the blood
Power in the blood
Sin's stains are lost in its life giving flow
There's wonderful power in the blood"
It was day. I could tell by the slice beneath the door. It was the only place I had not boarded up and curtained heavily. It was hard to move. I was naked and stuck in a pool of drying blood. After the initial suction was broken and I rolled to rise I slipped and fell heavily. Remembering the belt I examined it. It had done what it was intended to do. But I was weak as a two day old kitten and twice as hungry. Would my stomach tolerate proteins let alone vegetation? I was not sure yet.
I sat for a long time just trying to get my bearings. The day before came back slowly but clearly. The White Witch ... wait which one of them got stuck under the house? had been in the falls again only this time she had been alone with her guard. She had been preoccupied with a dead black bird. That caused me to glance around. I had placed the feather with my other trophies and the ebony blade was a sharp contrast to the other pale objects. But it belonged there. If only for the way it cut into my eyes displayed as it was.
I remembered the paranoia of the day before also. Though it had eased with the power of the blood.
I touched the shaved skin of my skull fingering the tat and letting my rings roll against the contour. I remembered so many things.
Gor slid into focus more slowly. Perhaps it was triggered by one of the slaves of the inn scratching at my door. Or perhaps it was remembering what I had worked so hard not to forget. She had felt her. Her the black bird. She had felt her after she was dead. I was no psychic but I believed her. I saw it in her eyes and on her face. I mimicked the expressions. They probably looked ludicrous on my face but I could remember each one I had studied. I had asked her to teach me that. The magic. To feel. If she could feel dead things perhaps she could give me the secret to just feel period. One moment to feel appropriately. To express a human emotion in the correct context.
I had. It happened. Just too rarely to really stick with me. But often enough that I remembered enough to want it more than anything else. I was addicted. It was my drug. Could she hook me up? Could she be my mary jane?
I tasted the vitality that was drying on the meat of my thumb. I needed to shave. To wash up. I needed to eat. I needed a drink ... well the drink could wait. I was still high on the night before and I would not dull it yet with alcohol.
There's power in the blood
Power in the blood
Sin's stains are lost in its life giving flow
There's wonderful power in the blood"
It was day. I could tell by the slice beneath the door. It was the only place I had not boarded up and curtained heavily. It was hard to move. I was naked and stuck in a pool of drying blood. After the initial suction was broken and I rolled to rise I slipped and fell heavily. Remembering the belt I examined it. It had done what it was intended to do. But I was weak as a two day old kitten and twice as hungry. Would my stomach tolerate proteins let alone vegetation? I was not sure yet.
I sat for a long time just trying to get my bearings. The day before came back slowly but clearly. The White Witch ... wait which one of them got stuck under the house? had been in the falls again only this time she had been alone with her guard. She had been preoccupied with a dead black bird. That caused me to glance around. I had placed the feather with my other trophies and the ebony blade was a sharp contrast to the other pale objects. But it belonged there. If only for the way it cut into my eyes displayed as it was.
I remembered the paranoia of the day before also. Though it had eased with the power of the blood.
I touched the shaved skin of my skull fingering the tat and letting my rings roll against the contour. I remembered so many things.
Gor slid into focus more slowly. Perhaps it was triggered by one of the slaves of the inn scratching at my door. Or perhaps it was remembering what I had worked so hard not to forget. She had felt her. Her the black bird. She had felt her after she was dead. I was no psychic but I believed her. I saw it in her eyes and on her face. I mimicked the expressions. They probably looked ludicrous on my face but I could remember each one I had studied. I had asked her to teach me that. The magic. To feel. If she could feel dead things perhaps she could give me the secret to just feel period. One moment to feel appropriately. To express a human emotion in the correct context.
I had. It happened. Just too rarely to really stick with me. But often enough that I remembered enough to want it more than anything else. I was addicted. It was my drug. Could she hook me up? Could she be my mary jane?
I tasted the vitality that was drying on the meat of my thumb. I needed to shave. To wash up. I needed to eat. I needed a drink ... well the drink could wait. I was still high on the night before and I would not dull it yet with alcohol.
0 comments:
Post a Comment