Run from somethin' strong.

[nickorette]

Childish intuitions stretched my mind that night into something I couldn't recognize anymore. Caution, gaurd and common sense left the building and slammed the door behind them, the latch swinging into a locked position as soon as the door was closed. Hilarious how that lock is too high for me to reach now, and I can't let the three wise men back into the house. That night I let them leak into a snow laden territory to freeze to death with the stray cats and forgotten memories. Perhaps they reflected off the crystalized moisture that clung to asphalt and sidewalk, or maybe they just melted into the sewer drains to take up homage with flushed goldfish and consumer wastes. With the kings of mental competence gone, I was left to run rampant in the confines of my brain. Footsteps of excitement, anticipation, and fear were echoing in my skull and each foot-fall smashed another little piece of my brain until it bled from my ears and slid down my throat in a pulped mush. My stomach began digesting my thought processes and the tissues of gray matter. My own blood and taste surfaced on the tip of my tongue when the presence moved through the doorway, and I fought the urge to pass the energy my flavor through only the most intimate exchange. Instead I opted to view through holes of amber, each movement made by the other calculated and analyzed by the only pieces left of my now primitive brain. Anamalistic was my body and mind that night. Like prey and preditor I watched him trace pathways through masses and pick a dilberate trail toward my corner of the room, and I held my breath, trying to determine who was on the prowl - him, or I? Had I been a cat that night, my whiskers would have twitched with nerves and my tail would have curled tight around my body to weather me from the hailstorm that was him walking toward me, and shelter me from the spitfire that was his eyes. Perhaps instead of the way we had greeted eachother - if I was a cat - I instead would have pressed my nose against his own before slideing my jawline against his own with a tenor's purr. The reverbrations from my chest would cary the tune of what was destined - what was written into the trees and lakes and air. Perhaps you would have let me find salvation on your chest. Laying across the broad expanse of flesh and ribs, kneeding the fabric of your shirt with my claws (which, by the way, I would refuse to cut to maintain my defenses.. even if they hurt you. I'm sorry.) But I was not a cat that night. I was human. Distinctly human. Experiencing every emotion that makes one human, albiet hate and malice couldn't have crept into my brainwaves that night.. not a chance. Instinct was screaming fight or flight. I wanted flight, but I had waited what felt like era's to find that presence within the room with me that night. My options turned instead to fight. That, however, I neglected to do. The mess it would have created may have proved for a most orgasmic clean-up session, but for those moments, I had to keep the crime scene clean. I ended up circling him throughout the night, eyeing up the prey for the best place to sink my teeth into flesh and bring that presense down to its knees. Whenever gut instinct alarmed me to take supreme action, the presense must have sensed it, and countered with his own move. Like pawns. We were pawns on a chessboard. I was the queen, he was the king. The pieces in between were not personafied in my mind - they were symbolistic obsticals we both had to view and evaluate strategy to move them from our most direct paths.

But I'm a silly girl.

Daydreaming will suffice, for now. But I'm getting more and more hungry by the second.