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Sunday, 2 November 2014

Nicola pt.5

It’s dark outside.
My joints stiffen.
I flex my fingers to relieve the tension
These chronic pains get worse at night
The nights seem intentionally colder
The stars are shrouded by the cloud filled skies
With every color tainted with shades of grey
The rain pouring down can be heard thumping my rooftop
Pita Pata
Pita Pata

Conversation seems flaccid
Unnatural and awkwardly forced
But it been a while and I shouldn't be impatient.
It’s impractical to think that we would forget
Forget everything that has happened to suddenly be back to normal.
Words are meager things
Frail and fickle
Squandered by the privileged tongue
Without proof - Without regard
Seldom without doubt
Alas! For what is the weight of words without action?
But a thoughtless contradiction
Just as feelings are a mental state
Easily removed as they came to be
But emotions, emotions are deep
They are apart of your being
The core of your expression
Emotion drives passion
Fuels it

They say memories are not reliable
That what we remember is usually altered by our emotions
Emotions and other thoughts at that time
Yet I remain certain than ever that what I remember is real
Maybe I fell in love with an idea
Still stuck in testing phase
Possibly latched onto a memory
In turn forgetting much of what transpired.
Yet here we are again Nicola
After months without a word
Here we are again. Whatever shall we do?



Olsfred James 2014©

Prom

Eyes to the floor as she steps into the room.
She had found her insecurities here
No longer dormant or masked behind smiles.
The certainty in their discussion had forsaken her
Abandoning trust to a conflict of emotions.
“It’s okay” he whispers
His forehead resting on her temple
With his hands against her shoulder directing the way
As the door behind them closes.
A kiss to the neck simultaneously unzipping her dress…

She remembers seeing it for the first time
Venturing to the city on the off chance she would have accepted Andrew’s offer
Trying a few stores recommended by her mother
Failing at each, either for being too expensive
Or just simply not her type
Then there it was, on display at Mrs. Gordon’s store
Swamped amongst the other options yet she saw it only.
A Sheath.
She imagined the white slim dress hugging her budding curves
Imagined the sleek fabric outlining the silhouette of her body
It was perfect for her tall, thin figure.

She did not wear a bra with her outfit
Nothing quite completed it the way she thought
But with the extra padding at the bust it did well to conceal her nipples
It pleased him to know she did not have one on
Moving his kisses away from her neck
Down the plains of her back until meeting the zippers end
His hands running along her arms raised goosebumps on her skin
“Are you okay” he asks.
“Yes I’m okay. Was thinking is all”
“You sure you still want to do this?”
Looking back at her reflection she managed a smile

She had passed her dress every day since eying it, making sure it was still available
While she saved the pay she received from babysitting, with hopes of buying it
She knew nothing of babies; being the only child to two only children
Would say “No” whenever asked about having any of her own
Yet she had suffered through the experiences of having to wash vomit from her school’s uniform
The stench of defecation and the ear piercing screams
From a baby who was not accustom to her feeble and inexperienced attempts at comfort
All in effort to one day be in this position

He steps into view - Her eyes focus once more
Looking him in his face
She smiles. Touches him lightly against the cheek.
Reaches in then softly kisses his lips
He steps forward
She steps back
Until her legs collide with the bed
Stumbling as she falls into a seated position.
He removes his shirt
Then turns music on from the room’s stereo
The music from downstairs could still be heard.
The bass from the speakers rattled the hotel windows upstairs.

The school got the venue free of charge from Andrew’s dad to host the reception
Which to most seemed like more than a fair exchange for not expelling him.
A week before finals Andrew sort it best to play Lacoste in the lab
His way of venting from losing the last game of the season
His family was the richest in our town and Andrew always seemed to get his way because of it
But she was not present that day, so most of what she heard were tales from the grapevine
It was her final Friday being occupied with Babysitting duties
Then she would have ventured into town early that following Saturday
To give the dress of her dreams a new home – hers

He removes her heels and kissed at her feet
Slowly yet aggressively moving up her legs
Folding her dress with every new inch of her body he conquers
She grapples at his head
“Oh my god. Please wait” she mutters
He determines she wants him and tosses her hands aside
His hands rush between her legs and feels at her thong
She gasps, unsure that the spasm she felt was utter fright or her body’s reaction to his touch.
“No wait. Please…” she begins
The air is knocked out of her as he punches her in the stomach
Then rips the unzipped portion of her top down.

The Saturday she got her dress, she had never felt that level of excitement ever before
She first tried it on in her mother’s presence, both admiring its flow and how it fell at her feet
Then with her glowing approval she went off to her room
Spent hours parading herself in front of the mirror, with then without accessories
Waving her hands as would a queen before her supporters
Only to be summoned to reality by Andrew’s phone call
Maybe it had been a sign that he would call while she daydreamed in her dress
But she knew she wanted to wear it to prom and said yes to his near hundredth appeal to be his date

“I’m no longer begging. I take what I want!” He exclaimed.
She cried from the pain and the fright of what had happened
She clenched at the remains of her top, attempting to cover her breast
Kicking and screaming at him to get off of her
Kicking and screaming at him to stop.
In an instant Andrew had become someone else
Tossing her unto her stomach and forced himself into her
She wailed at the ordeal
Her tears seeped into the cracks of the bed
That did not stop him
Lunging himself deeper into her
Groaning from his efforts
A hand to the back of her neck
While another pinned her arm to the bed
Until finally, it was over…
Without a word he pulled his limp self out of her
Without a word he walked out of the room slamming the door behind him
She could not believe what had happened
Curling herself into a ball
On then realizing her dress was drenched with blood
She had the perfect dress
Worked hard and bought this as her personal award
She thought she had the perfect date
To her this night was to be special
But to him she was just another conquest.



Olsfred James 2014©

Destination


“..And let us not forget the sacrifices made…”
Waves of the onlookers become a facade
Slightly bewildered
I awake from my sedation
Strapped in a tin can                           
Fortified for my protection
The countdown ticks away
Staring back at my reflection
Everything is doubled
Repeated blinks focus my displaced vision
Thanks to my helmet
The shape of the sun rests calmly in view
I sit, awaiting my departure
Accompanied only by the dull orangey hue
“…This is man’s last hope for survival…”
Words never more true
One Man, One Mission
Not even a monkey to complete this crew
The flickering lights from the center console
I remember being instructed not to touch
“…Everything will be on Auto-Pilot...
Just to be certain nothing gets botched.”
Too late to turn back now
My journey into the unknown had begun
My engines had already ignited
Ready to drop all non-winged capsules but this one
I imagine my escape from Earth’s atmosphere
Being consumed by the vast emptiness of space
Drifting beyond and towards the stars
Away from home but the final stop for the human race
The shuttle rattles and I half expect the core to shatter
I grip the armrest with all my force
Expelling all fears in the form of profanity
As I focus on the mission to stay the course
With the mission specialist screeching in over the intercom
“James, There Seems… A Prob… Please….. Stop…”
While a peculiar odor faint yet noticeable
Creeps into my suit on 3… 2… 1… Blast Off!


Olsfred James 2014©

Monday, 28 July 2014

Shadows 2


This is the continuation to a previous post back in... wow... 2012. You can refresh your memory (as I did) by clicking here.


She stands at the doorway of the study, spying on her father. Hastily, he trashes about the small room rummaging through the books and sheets of paper that once filled the now emptied shelves and drawers lying on the floor. Piles of paper are heaped into the fire place. He rips pages from his notebook and tosses the bits along with their remains to the flames. She had never seen her father like this before however she was not afraid of him, only curious to why this forever loving and jovial guardian was disturbed.
Earlier, she had eavesdropped on her parents discussing the need to move from their home. The only home she knew. Her mother had given birth to her in this house and by the time she grew into the young lady that she was today, she already knew all of its secrets. The leaks in the roof her father always planned to fix, the creaks in the steps and the noise the rusted pipes would make when the heater was turned on. Though she could not fully hear what was being said - as they spoke, her father’s face was pale and he trembled uncontrollably. She saw the fright on her mother’s face and without question, agreed to her husband’s request then immediately began packing.   
As she stands there, her eyes are pinned on him but he does not acknowledge her presence. The fire place is lit and his slender figure looks much robust being cast on the walls. On the mantle the only remaining figment still in its original place is a photo of her mother. For a moment he pauses at the picture, reliving the memory from that day. He strikes a fist against the wall.  
She runs to him.
“Daddy” she says, and before he realizes she has already wrapped her arms around his legs.
“It’s going to be okay darling” he responds sensing the worry in her voice.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing dear. Daddy needs to get rid of a few things but I promise I will tidy up. Would you like to help?” She manages to smile, accepting her father’s words.
“Yes I would”
“Great. I seem to have misplaced the scissor. Would you be a dear to go ask your mom for the other?”
“Sure daddy.” She responds, already scampering out of the office.
“…and no running through the hall.”
As she makes her way down the hallway the sound of a glass shattering ricochets off the halls from the study. Her frightened scream is silenced by her mother’s hands now over her mouth. She’s pulled into the nearby closet. The fear of the unknown sends chills down her back.
“Mhairi…” her mother whispers, “I need you to listen to me okay?”
Frozen in silence, listening to the footsteps coming down the hall, she does not answer.
“Mhairi!’ her mother repeats sternly.
She looks up for a moment to respond “Ye.. yes mother”
“I need you to stay in here. No matter what you hear do not come out. You understand?”
“Are we being robbed mommy? Who are the men in the house?” she asked, dismissing the request from her mother.
“That is not important right now. I need you to promise me that you will stay in this room okay?”
As uneasy as the request was, she agrees. Then with a kiss on her forehead - as she would get every night before bed - she watched her mother walk out the door. Again, her curiosity got the best of her and followed her mother without her knowledge.

She could hear her father speaking to the men. This was not a robbery as he seemed to know who they were and why they were there. She saw her mother enter the room and a shriek followed. She hesitated for a moment, worried that she would be grabbed just like her mother if she got to close. Yet she needed to know what was going on.  
Through the crack in the door her father was surrounded by masked men while her mother was seated with a gun pointed to her head. Mhairi gasped at the sight of the peril.
“You know why we are here doctor” One of the men seemingly in command said. He was the only person without a mask but his head was held down while his top hat covered his face.
“You are wasting your time, I do not know what you are speaking of” the doctor managed to respond. With his unfavourable response one of the men punches him in the face. A thick stream of blood ran down his nose.
 “Now… I am not here to torture or scare so I will make this very simple for you.” The man in the top hat began, “I will count to 3 and if you do provide me with what I seek, your wife dies.”
“Please… I'm begging you... leave her out of this”
 “1”
“Ava… I'm sorry” her father said, looking at her teary eyed mother.
 “2”
“Ava. I love…”
“3”
The sound of the gunshot was not loud yet the sound of her mother’s fragile body hitting the floor sank her heart. She could not scream, her mouth opened but nothing came out. She paces backwards from the doorway, visions of her mother’s limp body flashes through her mind as she silently sobbed silently to herself. Her father cries violently from the top of his lungs after witnessing the death of his wife before his eyes. In a violent rage he shoves one of his captors simultaneously disarming him of his weapon then pointing it to the man in the top hat.
“Don’t be stupid doctor; you know I cannot be harmed.” The man advised. Without a word, her father with a last look at his now dead wife lying in a pool of her own blood, turned the gun on himself and pulled the trigger. The picture of his wife hanging on the wall was splattered with blood and brain fragments.
The shock could not be contained this time around as Mhairi screamed for her father. The man in the top hat looked in her direction, his eyes glowed an unearthly red colour as he shouted to the other men...
“Kill her!”


.......to be continued again........... maybe....

Olsfred James 2014©

Alone

Imagine…
Waking up one day to…
Nothing
No birds chirping
No voices piercing through the radio
No vehicles with horns blowing
No footsteps busily going along their way
Empty streets…
I would imagine the initial feeling of doubt…
As the despair of being alone creeps
The hopelessness…
No longer surrounded by the confusion of the world
Trying to make sense of it all
Would you scream?
Shout a name or two in hopes of an answer?
Take to the streets to validate what you already knew?
That you are alone in this world
Would the thought of this cursed immortality break you?
Living your days… Alone.

Imagine that.
Think over it a moment.

Let it sink in.


Olsfred James 2014©

Thursday, 17 July 2014

Ripper

Here we are you and I
Trapped together in a war of wits
Who will be the first to falter?
Who will be the first to quit?
The first to fall, to admit defeat
You are my pray and… I?
I am your hunter
A killer? By all means, “The Ripper” of course
Reveal my name if you survive
Scream it until your lungs are hoarse
Surgical insertions examining your mind
These traumas are self-inflicted
Reworking the electrodes I find
Never initially I thought
Revealing my weapon was your kryptonite
Slashing my way into history
A hostile takeover before your very sight.
Yet here I stand with my scalpel in hand
As you persistently press forward
Searching for the meaning,
Striving to understand
Your eyes bleed with anxiety,
Damage impossible to mend
As I leave you begging for help,
Gasping for a breath before meeting your end.

Olsfred James 2014©

Wednesday, 16 July 2014

Canvas

He sketches
She watches on
Poised and still
As a rose in the summer sun
Disciplined an unforgiving in her disposition
Blooming to perfection.
Swiftly across his once blank canvas
Inch by inch
Frame by frame
Her charcoaled figure is brought to life
Her radiance is captivating  
The sensuality in her curves
Effortlessly captured in his portrait.
She is comfortable in her skin
And he is comfortable with her nudity 
Intuitive to her beauty within.
Her hands coiled above her head
Wrapped around the pole at the stage middle
Her back - arched
Her legs - apart
She teases with a smile
Enticing and summoning
Suggestive to the need for embrace
He smiles back
His concentration is stretched thin
Between the reality and his creation before him
His fingers replicate the trails of his eyes
Detailing the outline of his subject.
Both astute to the tension in the air
Yet the reminder of why they could not be
Rested neatly only a few feet away on the cabinet
Diamond studded engraved, “Forever”
Revealing her kaleidoscopic reflection
Taunting her decision to step down from her resting place
Restricting his urge to put away his tools.
This was their final session together
The last meeting of their private rendezvous
She would return to the confinement of her life
And he, to the world that awaiting his gift
Saddening was the thought
Only to be together amongst the scribbles of his page.


Olsfred James 2014©