“Every journey should start with us pushing from the shore unfettered by what covers our souls.”
© E Holland
The morning air was cold and starchy crisp. Vaughn lifted the collar of his coat, placed his top hat on his head and started down the street. Within a few steps, his feet were numb. Mist puffed out of his mouth with each breath and across the road the grass was covered in frost. His lungs felt like there were freezing from the inside. He tilted his head up, a man should look to the heavens when they favored him. Above, the clouds were blueish-grey, they muddied the sky with oncoming sleet.
Last night after he’d seen her to her room, he’d slept like the world was rocked in the bosom of a benevolent god. A deep boneless sleep where every muscle was lax with satisfaction.
This morning as his eyes opened to a dimly lit room, her taste was still on his tongue. You didn’t do that to a man and waltz away. Oh no.
But with a woman like her, strategy was going to be everything.
© E Holland
WIP: Trusted. The story of No 5. The Painted Sisters
“Our souls held hands.
There are your fingerprints all over my life”
© Anita Krizzan
Under the leaves which have freshly fallen,
Under the browned, softer ones and
Under the mulch and humus debris beneath them,
Lies my soul, chest to chest with the earth.
It’s the press of a lover.
Of anguish and a heart’s desperation.
A place where pride has long gone.
Are you there?
Can you feel me?
Across the improbable, your steps echo through the ground
A distant staccato as they walk unaware through their daily tasks.
I lay here in the undergrowth straining for every sound,
Every whisper that speaks to me of you.
It is an elixir,
It is never enough
And it is all I have left.
© E Holland
But getting back to you.
I sometimes think you deserved a simpler, happier soul.
People who have broken so many of their hearts
Have such a different kind of love than those that haven’t.
It is often more compassionate I’ll give you that
But it is also much more ruthless.
You can’t stalk your own heart and not bring that habit along with you.
I knew when I fell from the sky that I landed in your heart.
There would be no natural justice if I hadn’t.
It has taken time to understand it was your fourth heart too.
The last chamber.
The place where the warriors dance with their own soul more than with each other.
Keeping each other company as we walk that tight rope
Between sharing a life or walking deep into the forest;
A couple of veterans in that unspoken landscape of the heart.
I think we saw it from day one.
People don’t get that about us.
© E Holland
Part of a larger piece of prose
“Have you been bound before?” His breath ran warm over her shoulder.
She shook her head no, there was no trusting her voice. It was taking all her effort to make sure her legs didn’t buckle.
There was anticipation in his face, dark and tight as he stepped around in front of her. The air between them stretched, a taught feeling that was pulling them inevitably together. It made him sharper like he could feel everything that was twisting under the surface, the fear, the excitement. She couldn’t let those currents beat her, not if she wanted him. She stood up taller, lifted her head.
It made the corner of his mouth lift. He was so many steps ahead of her.
The corset was loose, she was clutching it uselessly against her breasts. Every part of her was rushing to what he promised and yet instinct still had her covering herself. His head tilted to the side but her hands wouldn’t let go.
He reached out and gave the garment a gentle tug from under her tense fingers and drew it away. His eyes burned brighter. Yet there was a softness in his face, just a little as he picked up the rope.
“Come on sweetheart, let’s play.”
It’s an alchemy.
It happens without intent.
And quite frankly,
It can’t leave through intent either.
What is it in us that reaches out and wraps around the soul of another?
I’m not sure.
But what I do know is that it is as strong and fundamental a part of us as those I’m sure of.
Maybe even more so…
And ….. there is you.
It’s been a long time,
Yet I still feel like I’m swimming hard for the shore and at the same time the tide is pulling me out.
That drive forward and that pull back.
It’s not that I want to get away from you
I never did.
Perhaps that’s the problem…
I sometimes think my only choice now is to sink.
Get under the currents
Go down under the surface
Let all that water fill my lungs.
When I sink so deep and my feet touch the sandy bottom
I will be able to walk away.
© E Holland