I mentioned how I was having hauntings from my book that kept me up. Well, I wrote about a paragraph just to get them to stop. And I haven't written since. If I keep this up; my book will never be finished, and I will be haunted again. I don't want either of those to happen. So I really need to step up my game.
Also, I need to really work on my time management skills. It is so difficult running a home with two rambunctious kids and be my creative self. Google here I come! I have to find a better way to plan my life or it is going to plan itself without me.
Lets see. I really don't know quite what to say at this moment. My kids are going crazy. And I am concerned about the life of the couch if they continue their sofa-harassment. So I am going to leave you all with a short little story. Just to appease you and keep you wanting more.
Black Velvet
It wasn't like it would last forever. There were only twenty
three beautifully luring masterpieces to fasten my sights upon for hours on
end. So why do I feel so low and ashamed of my true state of being? Am I really
that pathetic in nature that I would stoop to dwelling on or in some other
dreamer's fantasy? I recall a day when my life was full of adventure. There
were some that claimed I was loco and should be contained. If only I remained
so wild and free that I could live in some world beyond my own reality all my
days. Yet it is beaten out of you when you are still young and helpless. That
world slips away. Leaving despair and misery in its absence. At times I still
find a small part of that world lingers, clinging to my soul like frail fibers
of a silky web weaved by a mist dwelling delicate spider. He comes from that
world. And he will always stay by my side. I can feel his presence, and
sometimes his warmth. Though he is not, well, real... in a tangible sense. But
he is there calling to me, soothing me, stirring feelings in my heart, and
placing never ending wishes in my mind. My breath catches in my chest when I
feel his presence about me. I shiver with his non-existing breath on the nape
of my neck. Bumps caress my skin when he speaks in his slow whisper. Fantasies
can be dangerous. They make you want things. They make you crazy with want. And
what do you do with those feelings unquenchable and overpowering. Feelings so
hot you get a fever for nights. Feelings so deep you feel your lungs struggle
for air. Feelings so perfect. It is all you can do to close your eyes and let
him take over. For once your eyes close and your body, mind, and soul soften to
the dark stage that awaits, you are his. He controls you. Your feelings, rage,
passion, fear, sadness, lust, determination, anything you feel belong to him.
You are his puppet, a toy he grasps with his powerful but enticing grip. A doll
that he talks to, dresses, undresses, plays with, and touches, that is what you
are. But there could be worse things. He gives you a world of fantastical
sensations. Would you rather the life you live? The weight of too many fast
food meals, the pale blemished body you are caged in, the raspy voice, the
difficult hair, the uncontrollably painful memory of your past. You would give
up Him, for that? No, I say. He is everything, and he can have me. And I freely
say, take me into your arms and never let me go. And my eyelids will forever
drape me in black velvet.
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