LJ Idol: Week 19
Mirage...
I can't fully recall the first time I saw her. I can't remember if her eyes had been steeped with horror or wonder. If I could, I can't imagine that my memory would be correct. I imagine that I would cast a different light on that moment, refract it a thousand times until we were surrounded by the spectrum of light, from red to orange, to blue to green, to the moment when light is all or nothing and is colorless in black or white...
Hmmm, black or white...
She was food. I remember that. I saw her across a crowded mall, alone and tragic covered in shopping bags. Her dark brown hair glistened and almost seemed black, but my unnatural eyes saw the depth in her ebony locks, browns, reds, lustre of gold fringed in copper. It was her eyes that caught my attention, though. It was her eyes I had to see up close.
Violet....
I strode up to her and she caught my scent. I smiled when I noticed it. She felt me, saw me, glanced in my direction with a second of terror...?...wonder...?...just before her human mind painted sunny realities over me, hiding the darkness and dread that overlaid me. I was profoundly astonished by her sensitivity, her natural empathy. I smiled white at her, hiding the urgency of red. Could she see the colors of my desires?
Red...
She wore a red coat over a black skirt. I could smell rain in the fibers. I could smell wind and the humidity of her car when she had cranked up the heat. It reminded me of home, of earth, of dark brown in layers of dirt and soil. I carried my homeland with me, not because I had to, but because I had read it in a book and it seemed a romantic idea.
Brown...
The color brought me back to her hair, to the dark fringe of her lashes set against her vibrant eyes. I stood in front of her, smiling, flashing teeth and she smiled back despite herself. She had tried to stop it, but the instinct to meet a smile with a smile was too great. She hid her eyes then, ducked them away toward a Pottery Barn display. I followed her gaze and saw us reflected in the glass. We were beautiful together, my tall, sturdy frame against her fragile strength. We were shades of each other, two hues, different in tone, but meant to blend into each others' lives...what color were we? I couldn't see. I could not see past the lust of my veins and the ramping up of her beating heart.
Colorless...?...
I needed to know her, the shade of her, the taste of her. I needed to blend us, mix us, to become one in a way no human bond could create. My need took over everything, it took over her. Then she...took over me.
I should have seen it. I should have sensed it. I should have known that she would wash over me, sapping everything I am, was, could be. But I couldn't see it, she was too refracted in the light, too pretty for my heart to stand, too shiny for me not to touch.
I shouldn't be surprised by my own creations. I shouldn't be shocked by the crafting of my hands. It shouldn't be a wonder that when I took the choice from her that she would someday take the choice from me and I lay here, in the darkness, so alone, almost afraid, unable to see a shade of anything, but my own existence....
How many feet under? How far from the breath of other life? All for what? For eyes of violet and the illusions of refracted light.
I can't fully recall the first time I saw her. I can't remember if her eyes had been steeped with horror or wonder. If I could, I can't imagine that my memory would be correct. I imagine that I would cast a different light on that moment, refract it a thousand times until we were surrounded by the spectrum of light, from red to orange, to blue to green, to the moment when light is all or nothing and is colorless in black or white...
Hmmm, black or white...
She was food. I remember that. I saw her across a crowded mall, alone and tragic covered in shopping bags. Her dark brown hair glistened and almost seemed black, but my unnatural eyes saw the depth in her ebony locks, browns, reds, lustre of gold fringed in copper. It was her eyes that caught my attention, though. It was her eyes I had to see up close.
Violet....
I strode up to her and she caught my scent. I smiled when I noticed it. She felt me, saw me, glanced in my direction with a second of terror...?...wonder...?...just before her human mind painted sunny realities over me, hiding the darkness and dread that overlaid me. I was profoundly astonished by her sensitivity, her natural empathy. I smiled white at her, hiding the urgency of red. Could she see the colors of my desires?
Red...
She wore a red coat over a black skirt. I could smell rain in the fibers. I could smell wind and the humidity of her car when she had cranked up the heat. It reminded me of home, of earth, of dark brown in layers of dirt and soil. I carried my homeland with me, not because I had to, but because I had read it in a book and it seemed a romantic idea.
Brown...
The color brought me back to her hair, to the dark fringe of her lashes set against her vibrant eyes. I stood in front of her, smiling, flashing teeth and she smiled back despite herself. She had tried to stop it, but the instinct to meet a smile with a smile was too great. She hid her eyes then, ducked them away toward a Pottery Barn display. I followed her gaze and saw us reflected in the glass. We were beautiful together, my tall, sturdy frame against her fragile strength. We were shades of each other, two hues, different in tone, but meant to blend into each others' lives...what color were we? I couldn't see. I could not see past the lust of my veins and the ramping up of her beating heart.
Colorless...?...
I needed to know her, the shade of her, the taste of her. I needed to blend us, mix us, to become one in a way no human bond could create. My need took over everything, it took over her. Then she...took over me.
I should have seen it. I should have sensed it. I should have known that she would wash over me, sapping everything I am, was, could be. But I couldn't see it, she was too refracted in the light, too pretty for my heart to stand, too shiny for me not to touch.
I shouldn't be surprised by my own creations. I shouldn't be shocked by the crafting of my hands. It shouldn't be a wonder that when I took the choice from her that she would someday take the choice from me and I lay here, in the darkness, so alone, almost afraid, unable to see a shade of anything, but my own existence....
How many feet under? How far from the breath of other life? All for what? For eyes of violet and the illusions of refracted light.