Ok, Deb, since you said that, I HAD to try my hand at it:

They always know who I am, but they lie to themselves. They want the lie, need it. They see me lurking on the dark edges of the safe path, and they wave their baskets of goodies at me, thinking "I am on the safe path," and dance up to the boundary.

I dance, too. I am a good dancer, smiling my so-bright smile, and growling till the sound ripples up their spines and makes their feet falter on the edge, teetering on danger. Shiny fairy girls, liking the edge, the moment of hanging in the balance before they skitter back to their safety -- the path, the school, the house.

But no path is ever safe. And boundaries are invisible. And I am not a man.

Sail, that's good and poignant - he has no clothes. And Erin, DAYUM! Made me happy.

Oooh, Erin, another one that gives me chills. Good job!

Hmm. Interesting...

****

You are young, child, and soft. I have just eaten old leathery skin and bones. Not a fit appetizer for your delicacy. I have seen the blush on your cheeks and the shine in your eyes. No such blossom on your grandmother, her glory days long past. But like her you do not shed monthly blood, yet you are ripe with the potential.

Life has not weighed down your shoulders, little one, nor man parted your legs. The next blood you shed shall be for me, and your last.

"Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up," I whisper.

ita, it's like your possessed with deb's can't-stop-writing muse.

It's interesting, ita, that until you wrote this I'd never considered the parallels between LRRH and Bluebeard's closet. But the line:

The next blood you shed shall be for me, and your last.

ties in so much to menarche and the loss of virginity and the consequences thereof in both stories. Nicely done.

ita, you give me shivers in my lizard-brain, where my contact with the supernatural/Divine happens. I am quietly in awe.

Sail, both the one here and the one about your mum in LJ are just exquisite.

eta: Erin, look at you! So dark and ... sexy.

Yep. That's what I was looking for. Thank you, ita. Perfection.

This one hurts, kinda.

Handball Girl

slap-slam-bounce

How old was I when you first saw me, when we recognised something in each other? Fifteen? Doesn't matter, really. Apparently, I was unique. You told me so.

smack-slap-wall-rebound

You were very married. We came together when your coupling frayed. You recognised me, and I you: need, individuality, passion.

slap

flew-apart

rebound

came-together

slap-slam-bang-rebound

Flew, finally, apart.

Our final meeting in this life, you recognised me. God knows how - surely so many times of the heart hitting the wall must have disfigured me.

And I recognised you. So tell me - does that mean your heart was broken, too?

Though it’s been years since I’ve seen you, and longer since I wanted to, really not a lot has changed. The restlessness we shared is still there, only slightly tempered by age. My sense of humor is still dry, and I still change my hair color at the drop of a hat.

Back then you called me loyal. Loyal and steadfast, and I was, long after it was reasonable or wise. That hasn’t changed either. It’s been years, after all, and I am still loyal to my anger at you and the harm you caused.

Back then you called me loyal. Loyal and steadfast, and I was, long after it was reasonable or wise. That hasn’t changed either. It’s been years, after all, and I am still loyal to my anger at you and the harm you caused.

Perkins broke me.