Picture it and write – Gilded lily

Like birds, the words flew away

She had been forced to hurry. First light had broken half an hour ago, and while she’d dressed as fast as she could, the corset had refused to buckle. Her shaking hands had struggled, but she had not dared to ask even a maid for help – for fear of alerting the farm of her intentions.

Now, with a few slices of cake in her petticoats, and the dreaded court transcript in her hand, she stole out into the light, careful to keep her bonnet down low. The crispness of the air smacked her skin, and cooled her cheeks into ruddy apples. A dog stirred on its chain. She smiled, scooped down low and cooed in a soft voice – and he did not bark.

As soon as she was out the gate she felt freedom push her forwards. She hurried along the trail toward the old elm forest, looking carefully over her shoulders. She didn’t allow her eyes to pause – searching in every shadow, every slip of light an ever present danger.

Gunfire, only too recent a memory. The flash of gold. Red, warmth and love flowing freely. Her tears, his protestations. Police and chains. The recollection filled her with adrenalin, and rather than allow the fear to stop her, she ran. She ran toward her lover.

Ahead she saw the spot. She turned her head, looking for his outline. Of course he wouldn’t wait out in the open.
“Why has this fear spread over every moment now?” she questioned. It was a cancerous rust filling holes in their teeth. It made them whisper. Plan. She gripped the transcript tighter to her chest. “Nothing is more important,” she said.

A twig broke and she snapped her head to the side. She still could not see his form in the silhouettes. Instead, a book lay on the heather. It was obviously meant to be read. A feather stuck out of the top. She bent down to inspect it closely.

The leather glowed, and the gilded title urged her to open it.

She gasped, and stood up with a start.

“Yahooo!” she squealed, spinning in a circle, kissing the book and throwing that dirty life wrecking transcript into the air. She lowered the book to reveal a wide smile. With her fingertips, she traced the large, hand inked words covering the text of the book, as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I’m free!” the black ink proclaimed. She need not hide, nor run. But looking around at the forest and wiping away the salt from her eyes with her sleeve – she knew that it was far from truly over.

Ermiliablog is the wonderful creator of  Picture it & write – join in the fun!


Destiny’s Dance

Below is the “Picture it and write” challenge for this week. Thanks Ermilia for such a stunning photograph!

Destiny’s Dance

“Follow me,” she said, stretching out her hand and pulling me into the hazy, pheromone fueled room. The music pulsed, throbbing like an excited heartbeat. Each of the bodies on the floor; cells controlled by electrical impulses. I too followed mine – sharp as the lasers that cut through the smoke and tasty as her teasing lips.

Her eyes, so clear, blue and mesmerizing. A black stripe across her face as though a vigilante – my Zorro of the night. Seductive, skin tight leathers that taunted, highlighting the luminosity of her skin. In contrast she glowed, radiant.

A female’s whispered chorus permeated from every corner, and yet from nowhere, perhaps within? “Follow me…,follow me,” she sighed in song, and in that moment I was sure it was her continued plea, somehow controlling the music, and surely in command of me.

My eyelids closed and I stretched my neck in a languid circle, body swaying to the rhythm. I could see nothing but her face in every facet of my mind’s eye – that intent gaze, with a lifetime of knowledge to share. Perhaps more? She seemed to access whole generations. In her face I could see mirrors facing mirrors, reflection on reflections, and time s t r e t c h e d.

We’d only just met, but destiny danced on my lips, surging my passion, ebbing me on.