Sinking, Soaring, Flying, Falling
Reddish bronze highlights reflected off his hair in the candlelight. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps … whatever, whatever.
The salad arrived and, smiling, he motioned for her to start, so she slowly raised her fork and then stopped suddenly, eyes transfixed on her plate as the salad moved, and through the lettuce and onions and olives and tomatoes, out walked a frog in slow motion, one leg at a time, till it reached the middle of the table right between them and looked straight at her with a twinkle in its eye, opening its mouth for a croak, long and loud, which was cut short as its neck-bubble burst, its back split open, and a black scorpion walked out from inside the frog.
She looked up at him from the pulsing frog’s heart and saw his hair and his eye-whites had turned to blackest black, the warm friendly lips widening to a mocking leer. She was hungry, the emptiness growing inside, all-consuming, threatening to swallow her up, but she knew there would be no filling of it, because the scorpion began clicking its way towards her and across the table he started to stand, so she closed her eyes and waited, without surprise, remembering she had believed it would not happen but had known all along that it would, so she waited, sinking, soaring, flying, falling.
“Sinking, Soaring, Flying, Falling” has been splattered on 2 times.
It’s a nightmare I had a few months ago which was so vivid I had to write it down.
emethhesed
emeth.hesed
Elly L. | 2:19 PM, Friday, April 14, 2006
Emeth…. what does this mean?