Moonlight

By moonlight. Dance. Dream. Swim? Enjoy the moonlight.

Here's an old one from the ebook of the same name!

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Dancing by the Pale Moonlight.

(1-23-10)

Never ending movement continuing for all eternity. There is no stopping. Swinging and swaying. Back and forth movement of the night. The rhythm has a hold of my soul and will rob my spirit from eternal rest. Sinful, but there was no better earthly pleasure than the dancing. In the realm of death it is a prison that holds my bones hostage.

The first night he came to call was very warm. Air was thick and wet. One of those humid evenings where a person’s skin just crept with electricity. There wasn’t a peaceful soul in those parts for days. As a matter of fact, that warm evening when the air was so heavy, you could feel the restless growing like an untamed beast. Same little song was playing on my Daddy’s Victrola. Same ol tune I used to frolic and skip to as a child. The only light in the whole house was a candle on the kitchen table. Too hot to sleep. Too restless to sit still. Dancing in the dark by the pale moonlight. Daddy was asleep in the rocker on the porch. Mama was watching from the kitchen. That’s when he showed up. No more than a shadow at first. Then a man emerged from nothing and took hold of my arms. Gripping. Leading. I couldn’t resist following. We were dancing. Spinning ‘neath a full moon. Daddy never stirred. Mama just sat there. The specific features of his face escape me. Even in death the details of that night are no clearer. We danced and danced, until the music stopped. There was nothing but shadows once again.

For days and days, this mysterious figure arose and appeared at random intervals and odd occasions. Every time we danced it felt as though I was losing control of myself. More and more he would press me further. As he lead, the movements became stranger and stranger until I couldn’t break free. Lost in the movement. Trying to remember my way back. I’d never been so intoxicated by the dance before. Without warn the warm nights grew quite cool from the arrival of the crisp autumn air. The enigmatic stranger remained elusive and unseen. Somehow his presence seemed connected to the season. For several days I’d longed for the heat to return. When it did not, I remembered how to dance alone easily forgetting the shadow that controlled me beneath a summer moon.

Autumn brought the change of colors with its brisk breath of air. The electricity in the air was nothing more than a bit of static. Quietly the earth prepares to slumber as the days diminish into longer nights. Nightly bonfires soon brought the joyous dances around the blaze. The movements near the fire seemed intensified by the colors. Spinning seemed to have a dizzying effect. Dangerously feeling the effects of vertigo, I pushed & pulled against the warmth of the flames. Thin orange slivers reach out from the inferno almost like the open fingers of an inviting hand. The harsh chill hits my skin with a slap as the sweltering heat beats against it with equal force. The Hot ‘n’ Cold playing tug of war for my affections.

Dancing precariously on a thin line between heaven and hell I continued beneath a black sky filled with tiny sparkling stars. Wildly my rhythm intensifies. I’d lost my shoes. My hair is loose and untamed. Spinning with my eyes closed… Stopping against something. Arms gripping. Locking. Leading. Once again I knew the dance and followed blindly without control. Growing with speed. Gripping tighter. Lost. Dancing madly. The darkness seemed to take hold deeper and stronger than before. Never wanting it to end, I gripped tighter, fiercely returning the phantom’s hold. Almost infuriated the dance changed spinning and turning closer toward the flames. Warm fingers caressing my skin, touching my hair, teasing me with the heat. Like a slight of hand and change of partners the shadow released his hold, sending me dancing into the flames. Alone with my new partner and his deadly fingers. Blue with orange tips. Spinning. Dipping. Burning. Gripping. Unable to break free. Enveloped in the blaze. Dancing to my death.

Wicked desire has created a prison to punish the whims of the flesh. Movements that hold my bones in perpetual rhythm. Haunted by the spirit of song without eternal slumber. Dancing in my bones by the pale moonlight that rests against a blanket of twinkling stars.

Free

While gravity may be man's greatest opposition to freedom... Realize that you're the only thing weighing you down in your life. You have the power to set yourself free anytime you want without having to escape. 

This is from the D-men. 

Enjoy!

Kisses,

m.

Deadweight

(2-28-2011)

Gryphon Teller is sinking. Sinking like a stone to the very depths of the sea and in this moment he’s taking me along with him. Gryphon once told me he loved me and I believe that to be true. I believe very much that he loved me. But whether or not his love for me remains is yet to be seen.

And his grip locks tighter as the watery bottom nears closer.

Gryphon Teller isn’t a complicated man. At least he didn’t used to be. Unlike other men, he was satisfied by the little things in life. In fact he was quite the type of man that enjoys retelling the same story over and over without thinking a thing about it. And most often he still does.

Today he wears the same brand of jeans that my Dad and his Dad wear while talking about the price of gasoline in a story about the lawnmower. It’s a story from last week that doesn’t quite fit the mood or feel of the day but he tells anyway. Just like he told it last week over breakfast. Between his story and another cup of coffee, he tells me about testing his diving equipment. A test that requires a short dive and a couple hours on the boat. Before he resumes the same story, Gryphon tells me to “Come along for the ride. You’ll enjoy it.” And like so many times before I couldn’t see the harm in it.

Soon after we first met each other, I believed that Gryphon was the most interesting person I’d ever come across in my life. I’m not sure what it was that made him interesting. It might’ve been for his sense of fashion or how he talked about music or science. Perhaps it wasn’t any of those things, but I knew that there was something about him.

Simply put, Gryphon Teller is the kind of person you meet on the street once and never seem to forget. His charm never lacked for energy. Often people mistake that energy for something else when it isn’t that at all.  And just like so many others, I mistook that energy for something else.

Sometimes I’ll wake up at night. Snap right up out of a dead sleep that feels like falling. I can’t ever remember the dreams. The dreams aren’t what’s important. What’s important is that I know where I’m at. And how that feels.

It’s the same with Gryphon. Sometimes, I’ll find myself snapping. Sitting up and coming to attention. But instead of falling it’s sinking. And seeing how he really is before slipping back under the guise of unknown.

My life with Gryphon has become a bit like quicksand. Everyday we sink a little bit deeper. I used to like the feeling of sinking with him.

I can’t breathe anymore.

As I’m suiting up Gryphon tells me about the human brain. He tells me that the brain can survive without oxygen for a short time before telling me the tank only holds an hour’s worth of air. With a smile he puts the tank on my back and turns to his own equipment. It seems like an eternity that I’m staring at his back before swinging my legs over the edge of the small boat.

When he first told me about diving I was completely captivated. Listening to his stories about dives made accepting his invitation easy. Dive after dive sounded so amazing in his eyes. The world through Gryphon’s eyes was something so incredibly beautiful that I couldn’t help but contemplate seeing it. And then I finally conceded to.

When I first agreed to go with Gryphon he told me it would be a simple dive. They were always simple. And even this final one was supposed to be no different. But that first time when he said there would be “nothing to it” he was so very right. Gryphon’s words couldn’t be truer because there was nothing to it.

It was always nothing. And the only thing that changed this morning was my participation. His plan has always been the same. From that first time, I knew what diving alongside Gryphon entailed. It meant my trust.

Trust like love is something that you simply give. And when Gryphon gave me his I returned mine without question. Some people might tell you that love is full of twists and turns before you know what that means, and I couldn’t begin to disagree with them more.

Disagreeing at the depths of the sea is the last place you want to find yourself. Yet it’s where our argument finds its temperature to be perfect. The last minutes of air in the tank are counting backward on the dial as I move myself towards the surface. Gryphon hasn’t behaved like this before.

It had only been fourteen minutes since we left the boat when I couldn’t reach the valve on the spare tank. Three extra tanks he dragged down 50 ft with us. Beneath the blanket of dark I can still see his eyes in the thick mask. They’re letting me know that I’m not doing something right.

And I was wrong when he followed me back to the surface. Within minutes his legs coiled around mine as my hands pulled at the line alongside the boat. The thin cords attached to the extra tanks find themselves firmly wrapped around his legs. I can see the new look in his eyes when he can’t grab onto the boat. With a pull that releases the tanks. There’s panic.

Panic is as panic does.

Once Gryphon told me he wanted me to leave him. Because he couldn’t leave me. He needed someone to be there for me, he said. To reaffirm what he wanted he told me that I shouldn’t question it ever again. I knew this wasn’t what he wanted but he said it to me anyway. It hurt when he said it and I couldn’t imagine ever having to. Deep down, I would never leave him because he didn’t want me to.

“Let go.” I mouth the words as Gryphon’s panicked hands pull at my suit and hang tightly onto the cords weighted by the tanks that drag us down.

We’re sinking and he can stop us. The weight of the extra tanks pulls tightly against my waist. I want him to calm down enough to realize he can stop this. There’s not enough air to last another trip up to the surface for two of us. Foot by foot rushes past us in the darkness.

I can’t breathe and this moment feels more like the same dream.

Over and over again there’s a chance for release. In any situation there’s a chance for escape. Even in quicksand, there is a chance you can get out. You have to reach for it though.

Closer.

Closer to the bottom my love drags me. It’s when I start to think he doesn’t care that his actions change. Gryphon finds a moment in my eyes and stops. His tight grip loosens from my waist and pushes. There’s no more sinking as his hands untangle from the cords. We’re not going to die.

In a moment of effortless calm, Gryphon Teller looked into my eyes, realized that he was only sinking because he chose to and simply let go of the unnecessary weight.

Dream Roomspiration: H2O Makes a Splash in your Dream House

Can't life without a little water dolls? Certainly not! Keep diving into trouble in your interior! No worries... Make a splash with your interior!

Dream Roomspiration: H2O Makes a Splash in your Dream House

Would you let H20 make a splash in your interior design?

Barbie thinks so!

Enjoy!
Kisses, m.

Dream Roomspiration: Aquariums

Can't get out of the pool dolls & kens? Enjoying the behind the scenes world beneath the submerged surface is very exhilarating and there is no reason to leave it behind! Put it into your dream house with an aquarium!

Dream Roomspiration: Aquariums

Would you enjoy an aquarium in your decor?

Barbie would!

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

The D Chronicles Extras - (Men): Dry

Conor Paolo from Submerged c/o tylershields.com

Dry

When the water dries out I’ll know where I stand or hang. I know this as I move my hands carefully beneath their rope tied shackles. Carefully I lift my head backwards and hope that the rope around my neck will pull back with the ebb of water. Letting it happen is a matter of relaxing in the right position.

A thousand times over I’ve felt the cold water lap up neatly against the bottom of my chin with a false hope. The force of my own weight shoves back towards me as the water rises and rescinds. There’s a reason or two that have found me in an interesting predicament now and again but nothing could’ve prepared me for this. Both my arms bound above my head hanging beneath the dock of the bay with a noose around my neck. Tighter and looser the ropes dig in before releasing with the ebb of tide. One thing is for sure is that once the tide rolls out dry I’ll be sunk and left hanging by the neck unless I can relax.

“Miles Redfield there ought to be a law for the kind of man you are.” So says Zanrha Grey the only woman who ever walked out of my life more than twice and still knew me better than any other when she came back around.

If there’s one thing I know from spending my time with Zan was how much she liked to lay down laws.

And I did enjoy when she did cause I loved to break them.

Except this time around it wasn’t so much the law she laid down as it was her foot that said “No more.”

No more was what I should have said when I welcomed trouble back into my life instead of walking away. That Thursday morning out on the avenue by the docks hanging back with Charlie Black and Melly Abriga I knew there was nothing like trouble but I went along for the ride. I wanted to be in, so I was.

 There weren’t any cops around when we boosted the old dodge, certainly no one looking when Charlie pried open the driver’s side door and Melly took a knife to the trunk. What threw me by surprise was the body that jumped up out of the trunk and grabbed a hold of my throat. There wasn’t time enough to react. Melly dropped his knife and jumped into the freshly running car that Charlie threw into gear leaving me with 6ft 2inches of terror with his hands wrapped around me and a look of pure hate in his eye. It can’t be happening. But it was. And so was I.

He wasn’t an angry man the fellow that handed me back my neck. His fate was sealed inside that car and I’m the one to blame for letting him out. Yet instead of setting me free, he gave me a choice on how to be dead. And it wasn’t what I might have chosen, but no one knows what trouble will hand you when you aren't clear about what you want. So with an agreement and a nod…

Smoothly I let this happen to me. I chose the noose around my neck. I wanted to have a betting chance and agreed this was a better way to end up than with a bullet through and through my skull. See most people want to know what’s coming for 'em, and I’ll be the first to say I’d rather not know. For every inch of water that dries up and drops my body, tightens the noose around my neck. My arms bound up tight won’t save me when the full force of gravity yanks downward on my body.

As I relax and give into the current, my body remains afloat while I let my neck loosen in hopes of shifting the noose. My mind continues to think of Zan and her words while my hands fumble to untie themselves.  

“A law” she said time and time over again whenever I’d roll back home with a mess or two trailing behind me. To Zan it was purely infuriating that I could be so callous and not think of her when dragging another round of trouble to the door. But this time in the back of my mind I knew there would not be another round as the water takes another drop with my neckline growing tighter. It’s when the tightness takes hold that I realize floating won’t much longer be a problem as the slow drop into the dry will snap my neck without question. Taunting me the water laps up and back across my chin dragging and easing the rope in a tug of war for life. A war that will end in freedom either way.

Dry. For too many men it means something different. One man is clean from his addiction, another is flat busted, and for me it means I’ll be out options if I don’t break free.

Christa Allen & Conor Paolo c/o tylershields.com

Resistance. If you resist the natural order, it can get a bit interesting. Still in one piece. Bruised, burned, battered yet nothing is broken tonight as I know now with certainty what I’m supposed to be breaking free from. And it wasn’t what I thought. Thinking of Matisse on the story. Another lost man from the series. And I am almost back at this work once more. Enjoy everything. Live, love and breathe. kisses. m.