Perched on the dressing table sits a cigarette. Ash falls from it and lands upon the carpet, and just like that she rubs the ash into the worn fabric with her big toe not caring if it leaves a mark. The comb glides through wet hair. It drags across her skull and gives her the shivers. Someone next door is yelling. Then banging. Moaning? Perhaps the young couple she sees now and again are fucking? Perhaps he’s got her up against the wall and is giving her a good seeing to? Sipping her coffee, she stops for a second and visualises the two of them in the nude, all sweaty and full of sin with his cock going in and out of her like a knife. She sees him with a hand around her throat. Or would it be grasping some of her hair? It makes her belly tingle. Makes her chew her tongue. She thinks she hears a gasp, and then nothing. Holding her breath, they appear to have finished, so she has some more coffee then takes a draw on her cigarette. There are books to be read and words to be written, but there’s a distinct lack of inspiration in her. It’s that time of the month you see. The time for blood and bellyaches and cramps and mood swings even worse than usual. Getting to her feet, she slips on an oversized shirt adorned with the image of Bugs Bunny. Grabbing the back of it, she pulls it tight so it clings to her body. She’s got curves and a little pot belly. Patting it with her hand, she laughs to herself then lets go before moving into the kitchen where she makes some more coffee. In the fridge there’s day old pizza and eggs. Looking down at that belly of hers, she bites her lower lip then takes the pizza out and places it on a sheet of kitchen roll. Putting on some music, she decides on some My Bloody Valentine, and then within seconds, she’s dancing on the cool linoleum. In the light coming in through the window, she sees dust particles hanging in the air and instinctively throws herself among them causing them to disperse. Waving her arms about, she shakes her head and squints her eyes, and in the dazzling purples and reds, she sees shapes and feels feelings that make her happy and sad at the same time, and although she’s not quite sure what to do with them, the more she dances the less of a dilemma it seems to be.
A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon.co.uk
A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon.com
I think you’d like that. The book is by Diana Gabaldon.
Thank you. I shall check it out 🙂
Thank you, my friend!
well done. you’ve captured a really sharp moment and made it bearable.
Thank you, my friend. I’m so pleased it touched you.
“Putting on some music, she decides on some My Bloody Valentine, and then within seconds, she’s dancing on the cool linoleum.”
If this was the first line in a book, I’d want to read the whole book. It could’ve just been the floor or even simply linoleum, but it’s COOL linoleum. It made all the difference. Another stunning piece, Stephen. ❤
Thank you, Allane.
That’s so encouraging to hear, and gives me so much confidence in what I’m doing. The little moments have become so important to me. Looking closer. Not letting anything go, no matter how seemingly insignificant x
Reblogged this on SPO_OKY and commented:
Another stunning piece by S.K. Nicholas
My observational blog favourites #1
I love the way you write. See so much of myself in this… okay, in the dancing in the kitchen bit 😉 x
Thank you, K 🙂
I’m touched you liked the dancing bit, and that you saw yourself in her place x