And what shall we call this, my lord?

 “Kate, that is the moon.”

“But it is the sun.”

“Yet say it is the moon as it pleases your lord.”

“It is that you are lunar, my lord, so it is the moon.”

Thriller

 

Word processing for self help (and if you choose to abandon this artist from recognizing her Art as the whole of her work, that is sad but I’ve witnessed friends are fake and this is my work for all that I am; accept me as I am or fuck off)

do I find his stories of capers a great distraction from ….well, what I’m trying to not think about 

never look back …. but it happened and …. it was mad …. and I did not need another scar so,anyway 

someone in his field would have seen his fair trade of exposure to combat I would imagine and agents suffering from the ….after affects 

he tells me with kindness that he sees I’m going through PTSD as he has training in coaching this ….he was there, he got me out of there and saw the departing scene as he was a part of it and —he tells me six months at least I should expect …. the flashbacks, the hysteria, the hyperventilating but there are woods and his hunting grounds all to myself to hike as it is a wildlife preserve …. and he has rifles everywhere alongside his hunting trophies as ….he tells me I’m safe here and ….I dare say, with his oxygen tank for his emphysema I ….don’t feel under threat there and actually, hopefully, more under his protection as I did witness his intervention on my behalf —when nobody else was there—he got me out of there…. I just wish the terror would stop, I made myself not feel all that time. not think too much about what was happening because it would not have been possible to …. keep it up. the shield. the sword. the armor. you become what is otherwise lacking, I am my own knight but I cannot hold myself up anymore which is not like me at all ….not in a long long time was that road kill me, but I will rise like the phoenix and the dawn ….I swear, that ass will not have the pleasure of defeating me because —he is worthless, putrid garbage and when I get back up, I swear that I will smear him. I just need some peace and ….some time

A marker for a page; dawn’s highway

and so….it was no accident the subtle hints and mentions of stalkers recently here —they’ve been a pattern in my life. both genders. and always terrifying when it’s happening. I have not been ok, and, you know, I don’t know if I ever will be …. able to let anyone near me again …..a person who stages and traps a person …. what I wrote here back in late spring and early summer —well, it was a cover in case he read my blog

and so I guess this one has been obsessed with me since high school and woe to me the lengths someone would go to try and force their will ….and all that last month and the GFM was about what was going on—but what saved me in the end? A chance meeting with a retired FBI agent who stopped in his car one day to talk to me when I was walking the highway ….I guess he sensed something was up— and now I’m working for him

my actual life is more strange than my stories. and always, it has been this way ….

It seems I have always longed for him, but I never could place where .... so what is the purpose we should meet now.... what purpose do we serve in each other’s lives.... something he needs from me? Something I need? Something that goes beyond life and time?

….the girl and the smeden 

 

all my wires are fried on my emotional circuit board. I feel nothing and too much at the same time. it is like riding horseback without holding the reins and trusting fate

I don’t know who I am right now but it will be all right whomever we become…. 

and stranger, I hope that you are ….really there; to note

Part 1 “Tequila; A Page a Day(prequel)”/Another Story

They leave the coffee place and as they walk, unconsciously they fall into pace with each other even though they are, to note strangers, but they are not really, are they? Only no, they don’t think about this either, while they walk past airport shops, for there is no time for such fleeting thoughts as ….well her flight is eminently approaching 

“So have you ever?” he asks her as they walk quickly past other masked travelers 

“Have I ever what?” 

“Been somebody’s unicorn….?”

“Well, I’ve had —you know….stalkers —who —“

“Stalkers?”

“Yeah— who thought I was their unicorn, yeah….” she shudders

“Christ—no, actually I meant it the other way—“

“Huh….?” she glances up at him as he says,

“the extra party—trois….”

and again the spots of bright color appear on her alabaster complexion. But she turns suddenly as though something has caught her eye in a shop window 

“Oh, I love these!” she says going into the shop which is filled with bohemian objects; she goes past batik print tapestries, takes a moment to inspect the designs and touch the fabric, but then swiftly moves on to stare at a wall of macramés hangings, captured by the deep emerald color of one but then is mesmerized by the red clay pots as tall as she. 

But it is this which got Beth’s attention —she goes over to a display of bracelets; bangles, cuffs, leathers and the kind with little glass beads and she tries them on but they don’t look right on her; they are all too big for her wrist and fall right off; she puts them back with a sad sigh 

He says,

“so have you?”

“Have I…?” but she suddenly remembers the question she dodged, “so what was that about tequila?” she happens to notice they pass one of many airport bars just now, “oh that place looks interesting, since you are stuck here anyway, let’s see if they have tequila—“ only now she realizes the time,

“but ohhh…. look, it’s getting closer to my boarding time….”

“You still have one hour,” he tells her, “unless yours gets delayed too.”

“Oh you wish!”

“What do I wish?” he asks her and it is something in how he says this 

Beth swiftly turns around to look at him and shocking her, his expression is intensely serious 

“No I meant….” she says, but forgets what she means to say; there is a weird stab that is actually physical, as she looks up at him, when caught inside his eyes, that makes her stumble, but he catches her 

He says

“Let’s see if they have tequila ….”

They go inside

It is deceptively small inside, once past the entrance; it seems all the customers prefer the bar where there is a slight crowd. But past the length of this, in search of a seat there, a waiter in black uniform suggests they sit in the dining area. 

He directs them there. 

There are only four little tables arranged privately like little booths. The waiter lets them choose which one

And once seated he asks,

“so what can I get for you?” 

“We were wondering if you have tequila,” Stefan says

“We have a selection. Do you have one you prefer?”

In the end Stefan says,

“we’ll just do shots of each.”