Waking To Magic
Colors flew from my fingers like beams of light. Cliff sides swayed like grass in the wind. I reached out, I touched the moon. The water upon it's rugged terrain felt cool. I cupped it in my hands and I drank it. Upon the touching of my lips, my tongue, I became clouded in sorrow.
But I could feel joy speak from these enchanted waters as well. As the water rushed down my throat; tears emptied from my eyes in silence. I knelt to the ground placing my hand upon the grass. As I did, it suddenly wrapped around my hand, but with a gentle displacement. It was as if it could feel my agony, like it knew my pain.
I carefully pulled my hand from the grass and glided it above. Passing my hand over each blade that reached beneath the palm of my hand; I sensed something reverberate in my bones. Like an echo in an empty cave.
I quickly stood, in the fright of what I felt. What I felt, was something only I should know; how could grass speak to me?
I looked to the moon, but it was dry, black, it appeared desolate from what it was. Suddenly a soft voice whispered from the distance. I looked down from the moon and there, between the singing trees and the swaying cliffs, was a figure. A figure of translucent white, it walked toward me as more tears fell from my face in stillness.
I began to feel my heart weep as the figure slowly approached me. I became fearful, yet felt comforted by its presence. As it walked toward me, tulips of glowing white sprouted from each foot print it stained upon the field. Whispers came sprinkling through the air as stars fell from the sky.
I watched with anxious curiosity and frozen bones. I could not look away , but from the corner of my eye; I could see the moon. It was turning red, I started to feel a strong heat radiate from it. Quickly the climate became a sweltering cough of heat.
My palms became clammy with sweat, but I could not move. The moon I could see, started to boil. It began to melt in the form of smelting slag. The translucent figure showed no signs of hesitation as it continued to approached. As it neared, I could feel it, it gave off a raw crisp aura.
I began to shiver, cold breath escaped my mouth. My heart, slowly coming to a deathly pace. My eyes drew heavy. But near its last few steps before reaching me. It screamed, shrieking into my ears like a banshee; its eye drew as black the night. Its body became darkness, the sky followed suit.
It reached me, but I could not move. As I quivered in fear watching its shadowy hand grasp for my face. It too became like the moon; red. It too boiled before my eyes and melted to the ground before me. Vanishing to the soil. Leaving a trail of black smoke as its eerie shriek faded to the open air.
I woke to magic, I woke to my skin, and upon my chest, a mark, from the figure within.
Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed.
What is your interpretation of the story?! Please let me know in the comments below or at any of platforms.
Wanting to hold my words in your hands? A Man's Traveled Heart
Thank you for your support, I truly appreciate it!
Popular posts from this blog
The Blameful Two The world broke as their hearts bled the shadows of their misery. Seeping upon the world, flooding with the scars of agony. Their eyes trembling beneath the moonlight as their blood stained hands shimmer. Their lips sewn as each is caught in a lie. Both bare, exposed to their duality. Their curtains drawn thus unmasks the bodies they have slain. The skeletons of truth dragged through the spoils of deceit. Each, unwilling to speak. Their cheeks flush in rose petals. Their skin taut to the anxiety of their arrest. They are now the victims of themselves and each the other. Two hell's preached in the underbelly of their weakness. The fraudulent thought in avoidance of pain. And now they stand as nude as the beginning of life, Adam and Eve. Shaking, they are without words. Silent, bearing only tears that fall to the blood soaked floors. The dark whirlpools of hypocrisy. Neither is without sin and neither is without murder. Their souls weep dearly a
The Moles Never Learn I found myself walking in the snow, my head aching with a sharp pain. I feel the back of my head, there is something crusted upon the rear of my skull. I dig my nail carefully into it. I can feel the crust collect beneath my nail like dirt. As my feet trudge through the sixteen inches of snow I look to my nail and there in my nail is blood. Dried cells of my body. Upon seeing this I become confused with worry. I place my hand once again upon my bloodied skull and began to examine it. I slide my index finger like the bristle of a broom, back and forth trying to see what wound had allowed such blood upon me. But after several seconds of feeling about, I find nothing. No scratches, no lacerations, nothing. My worried confusion musters down to mere confusion. I rub my eyes as I am strangely held with a slight daze. As if I have been interrupted from a deep sleep. And the evening air is not helping my situation. I am comfortably wrapped for a day tr
The Choice of History There lies an entrance, a red door to a place far different from any other. Where magic is real, time is alive, but love is dead. It is a place of desolation and pain. A place where blood flows from rivers and mountains are built of death. It is a place so horrible, the door has been sealed shut. Locked for all eternity, a place once flourished with bountiful colors, a place where ever growing thoughts and wonder once pranced like dear through meadows. But like anything, there comes a time of destruction. Where city floors were leveled, trees were chopped, and hope was a lost. A time when everything ran its course and something new must take its place. A time when death lives and life is but a drip of water falling from a distant cloud. But not all is lost, though the entrance is locked, hidden from the eyes. It can be found by the heart, by the vision of faith. It can be brought from its slumbering chambers if only one dares to find it. To l