Here is something random I wrote on holiday last summer, I am intrigued to know peoples thoughts on it, how yu all interpret it. One person who read it didn't understand it so I am wondering if its any good at all as well.
I believe in constructive criticism so lay it in!! I haven't had much hardcore feedback before!!!!!
Shakespeare (of Stratford).
In the gloom of misty moonlight, pouring from the sky like a sorcerer's froth, a sprite scrambles with alarm into the shadows.
The man with an occupied mind ponders on his troubles that writhe and twist inside of him, like two lovers in sequestered darkness.
He walks along the stony, dirt track path through the woods, idly following the path that he knew without recall. A swish, gentle breeze flows through the trees surrounding him, he feels the coolness. The trees stand in blackness, banishing any glow of light that might discover hidden secrets.
His stress stretches and tangles his mind, engulfing his heart with frustration, making his coronaries strain.
Slowly and quietly he travels. His footsteps take him out of the woods at the end of the path into a wide-open field. As he walks in the pale black (for the moon still shines), a fog closes in, clogging the atmosphere. Dampening his skin and clothes that stick to him, drenched in fear.
All alone, his enclosing confines him with a silky veil of vapour, illuminated by the whiteness from the moon. His heart pounds like a thousand kettledrums out into the silence, into the field of open space, he can see no end.
A thousand hours in a thousand seconds. Aware of his sins, prays to God under his breath in this world of uncertainty.
Out in the untouchable haze before him, a figure emerges. Instead of terror, peace settles in his heart through this phantasm. Her hair looks soft and brown like melted chocolate. Her eyes are blue like the sparkling seas and oceans on this earth.
He chokes, feeling love. On dew-sodden ground, she stands with bare feet, moisture covering her toes.
Her white dress shines with brilliance. The hem trails over the vibrant green grass; mirroring how he wants to brush his fingertips over her milky-white skin, to feel her cheek. He yearns to tilt his head and lean forward, aches to kiss her sweet red lips. Her eyes stare at him; she holds a pink rose. It has a long stalk.
Silent tension pops and zips through the air, which intensifies with torrid humidity.
She steps forward; he wonders what he’s experiencing. Breath fast in sexual apprehension, hungry for his skin to feel the prickle of her soft touch.
She steps closer still. Her eyes look down all over him. Gasping for oxygen, it cannot feed his craving for her so he steps closer one hand shakily reaches out for her.
She smiles a honeyed smile, tender and pure. Her thin pale fingers curl around his. Vibrations of numbing nerves shoot up his arms like electric volts and lightly she squeezes his hand. Trembling closer, overwhelmed with passion, he slips an arm around her waist.
She is cold and pressing against him, breath leaving him yet his mouth waters in reckless desire. Close to her lips he can feel no breath, her eyes that has not left his close. He can feel no breath, it's as if she is dead and this is his last kiss. He wishes she would hold him but she does not move. Trembling their lips brush. His tongue’s tip touches her lip. Inescapable passion. Eyes closed, attention focused. Mouths move in partnership together in love's kiss.
A hand forces him away. Crushing his heart with a thousand pound press. Tears of want and love roll down his cheeks seeing her shake her head. Both look down at the rose. It has transformed into a knife, metal sharpness pointing with dangerous threat, dripping in blood from her stomach.
"Do not welter in your pain and grief for me," she speaks, the woman turns and stumbles away coughing with death into the mist, leaving him wheezing with the emptiness of his loss and his excruciating hurt.
A sudden crack of a thunderbolt bursts the bulging spongy rain clouds that pour down on him washing away the scene and the blood and the ink from his hands. Falling onto his knees in the mud, his eyes full of tears, they are diluted with the fresh water of heaven.
A chill creeps up his spine, tingles his whole body gripping the muscles and tendons tight like the snowy cold of the Scottish highlands.
Falling back his oxygen returns, grounding him from his dizzy heights, closing his eyes and the words come to his head.
He laughs out loud and mutters,
"The end," like a freezing madman in a muddy field during the rain.
Thankyou!!! lots of love cecilia xxxxxxx
