The room where he lays
She stood at the base of the stairs looking up, her fear and uncertainty nearly overwhelming. The forth step creaking causing her to pause, as she momentarily considered turning back, the thought of being so close urging her on.
She walked softly down the hall, stopping in the doorway of the room where he lay – a light outside the window, perhaps the glow of the moon, illuminating the room, giving it a bluish hue. His back was toward the door, curled slightly fetal on his left side – his dark hair, a striking contrast against the pale pillow and the outline of his body under the blanket was all of him she could see.
She stood for several minutes, watching him sleep; taking in what details she could, her focus coming back to the curved headboard – images of him grasping the rails, as he made love to whoever it was he took to his bed.
He knew the moment she entered the room, heard the muffled sound as her clothes hit the floor. She crawled in behind him – feeling his heat – two spoons in a drawer, and still he didn’t move – nor did he push her away when she put her arm around him, in an attempt to ease his pain.
*This piece written as seen in a dream
~ by Jill on March 30, 2008.
Posted in Flash Fiction, In Dreams, Poetry, Short Stories
Tags: fiction, Flash Fiction, In Dreams, Poetry, Short Stories, Stories, thoughts, Writing, Writing Prompts
Well I didn’t understand what you intend to show in the piece but seems like an unheard desire yet not fulfilled and won’t be fulfilled till the life ends
I’m not sure myself what this piece means – as it’s the recollection of a dream I had a few nights ago.
Wow, Jill! Pretty wild, what goes on in your crazy head!
Don’t you wish you could bottle your dreams? You’d sell millions!
(Why don’t I have dreams like that? Damn!)
Interesting. Rather gothic, I would say.
Gothic…you think? Because it was all rather serene to me.