With the writing of the fiction ...

Today has been inspiring for me in so many ways. But I think the brunt of it came from reading another blog that I had come across on Twitter (Twitter is slowly changing my life, by the way) and the new album from 30 Seconds to Mars. Now, granted it's all very melancholy and maybe even a little morbid but I thought I would share it. I hope you enjoy. To those who have inspired me today ... thank you.

She stood there, a figure wrapped in the shadows on the rooftop of a big city skyscraper. Cigarette smoke rose in a cloud around her dark hair as she exhaled, flicked the butt of her menthol cigarette with the tip of a battered fingernail.

It had been years since she had taken in the skyline. It was one she thought she’d never see again – and would have been happy about it. This place held no happiness for her.

Not then, anyway.

Now. Now it was different. Now, there was him. As long as she had him, there was hope that happiness could still be found. He’d promised to love her – even the bits of herself she thought the worst. It wasn't entirely her fault, those nasty bits. She was an anomaly of nature. What she was flew in the face in the natural order of the world. Or was it that the world at large wasn't entirely sure on what the natural order had been from the start, and therefore ignored the slightly more fantastical bits that didn't fit in with dominant religious teachings?

A final exhale of grey smoke. The crunch of gravel beneath the heel of her boot. A light extinguished. A sigh feel from her lips, and she turned, walking across the expanse of the rooftop. The brick holding open the door was kicked out of the way. Darkness swallowed her as she descended down the stairwell, her footfalls as heavy as her heart.

I've been dreaming of things yet to come. Living. Learning. Watching. Burning. Eyes on the sun. I’m leaving, gone yesterday.
Brutal. Laughing.Fighting. Fucking. The price I had to pay. Bright lights, big city. She dreams of love. Bright lights, big city. He lives to run.

There had been so much of … everything in her life. She had built walls around her, to keep the worst of it at bay, to make sure she wouldn't feel the heavy weight of it come crashing down on her. But here, in this city that had been home and hell all at once, she felt the cracks appear in the foundation. The floodgates would open soon, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Fear had taken her across the ocean. A scared young woman who had had no idea how to deal with who she was, or what she was going to becoming every full moon. But, across the sea she had found a place. A home. A family. She grew and thrived and even surprised herself once or twice.

But now ... here she was again, back across the sea in the same place, but not the same woman. She was older, wiser. Hardened by hard fought, and hard won lessons. She had been defeated over there, and felt the sting of that defeat etch the final few scars in to her soul.  She had paid a price, it was true. A terrible price that might turn out to be more than she could bear to pay. She’d lost them all, and in the loosing … gained him.

Demon, where did my angel go? 
Vacant, vapid, stupid, perfect -  you are the one.
A new day, a new age, a new face, a new lay. 
A new love, a new drug, a new me, a new you.

Bright lights, big city. She dreams of love.
Bright lights, big city. He lives to run.

An old key, a rusted lock. A twist and a rough push. The door opens to an old battered apartment that she once used to call home. He was here, naked from the waist up, arms folded across his chest, gazing out the window, shrouded by he darkness of the room. She couldn't help the smile that tugged at her mouth. He couldn't remake her, they both knew that. Instead he could only help her put the pieces of herself back together again. The darkness reigned in this old place. Silently, she slid out of her jacket, undid her boots. Slid them in to a corner, felt the tears well in her eyes.

Bare feet moved her forward. Hands upon his back, circling around his waist. Her face pressed to his back, the heat of him against her a salve to her battered spirit. Energies twined, and each knew the other without speaking. Fear that had nestled around her like a cloak began to slowly ebb away, though in her mind planted venomous seeds of being without him. Somehow the universe would conspire to take him from her – the one she needed most in this world. Fear made her feel unworthy of love. And in that feeling, came the forgetting.

I forgive, had enough. Time to live. Time to love.

He had always been a wiser, kinder soul than she. He believed in love. Fought for it. He would show her that she was, in fact, worthy of love. That she could be whole again, and that it was him and his love for her that would get her there.

Time to live. Time to love.

He turned to her, cupped her face in his hands. Lowered his mouth, pressed lips to hers. Breathed in her air, took in the myriad smells of her. For a time, they would have to run. That much was clear. But they would run together. They would love together. They would heal each other … together. He didn't have to say those three words. Instead he breathed them in to her, seared them in to her flesh with every touch of lips and tongue. Without words, he felt her slowly begin to crumble beneath him. Felt the hot salty tears on his face, swept away by the caress of his thumb. There was a time for tears, he knew that. But … not yet.

He lifted her in to his arms, with her head cradled against him. Turning, strode towards an old battered bed to lay her down.

Not yet.

Bright lights, big city. She dreams of love.


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