Someone left the gate to my writers mind open, and the stories within me noticed this and have spooked and stampeded out and are running amok though my head tonight.
As they gallop my emotions rise and fall with the thunder of there hooves. They swell slowly up in my heart...I reach out to touch them and all I get is the sensation of empty air.
Lets see if I can lasso one...
The rope circle's my head as I for a moment get lost in the beauty of them running free. How effortlessly they leap and soar.
I drop the rope as I realize, to catch them I must let go...as they thunder past me again I reach out unafraid and leap...
The murky stillness of the dawning forest embraces her in its damp arms. The coolness of the air tousles her hair and sends goose bumps skittering down her naked spine. With stiff fingers she snaps off a piece of candy cane and slowly places it on her tongue. The peppermint is loud in her warm mouth and as she breathes in, the chilly air amplifies the taste.
She wipes the gritty creek sand from the boulder with her painfully red feet and squats in the indentation pressed in the rock by centuries of flowing water. The rabid winter creek lunges up from its bank, freckling her with its frothy foam, as it attempts to inflict her with its icy bite.
A distant horn hangs like a question mark for a second and then ricochets off the rusty redwood bark until it is silenced in the catacombs of the densely tangled forest.
As she waits for the hush to return, she licks the sticky sweat of the candy cane from her wrist, where it has oozed. With a wave of her hand she disturbs the droopy green ferns that frame her perch. They arch like cats awoken from a nap and paw at her slender frame.
She turns her hazel eyes up to where the canopy of emerald parts, revealing the troubled sky. She can see hundreds of tiny salt water snow parachuting down. She reaches for them, only to discover they aren't really there.
Again he honks his Morse code message into the into the womb of decay.
"Time to go." She whispers to the candy cane. Like a calving ice berg she cracks from the rock and plunges into the churning milk chocolate water. The candy cane spins dizzying pirouettes on an eddy for a moment and disappears.
Near the edge of the old highway he leans into his car and raps urgently four times on the horn. Please don't let this be the day his body begs. He knows that one day he will loose her to this magical place she calls the Nede of Edicius.
He glances up and is relieved to see her pale translucent form darting through the rich hues of the redwood grove. She is naked as usual. He catches her in his burly arms and gazes into her wide eyes. Her breath, coming in ragged pants, creates miniature crystal flurries. He rubs her Nereid skin trying to restore the warmth, but catches a primal look in her eyes, like a wild animal before it bolts. He wrestles her into the car and speeds away from the silence that calls to her.
....arching back it bucks hard and I loose my grip. I try to hang on but it twists crazily and disappears to join the others. Some stories just want to be free. I will have to be satisfied with watching them as they cavort around my head, unbroken, untamed.