This was inspired by this great story I read called Christmas Oranges. I'm
not sure if Jane has posted it here or not, but it's incredible. And that's
not advertising, it's an opinion, so there :p
Summary: strawberries. Use your imagination, it will probably be better that what I wrote.
Rating: NC-17 for mature subject matter. Well it was going to be, but I'm having a problem putting the words together.
Feedback: Appreciated. I need to know the good the bad and the aesthetically impaired. I believe in being politically correct *snorts*. I think words are the most important factor in effective communication, no matter what language. A no-brainer I guess ;). I've tried to use diction to relay the story, but I'm young, so if it doesn't work, sue. Wait, don't do that. I am in no way related to FOX, Dark Angel or any other section of this story. Well, except for the thoughts and words. They aren't important though.
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I'm not sure how or when I fell in love. It most certainly wasn't the day we met or any other specific day for that matter. It was a slow process, like learning to ride a bike. Except the reward wasn't as clear cut and simple.. All I know is that one night she cancelled dinner. And it hurt.
I wish she wouldn't withdraw into the shell I tried so hard to extract her from. The shell of terror. I can't stand to see her like this, not willing to look me in the eye. The only bright thing in my life is strawberries.
I've never been so intrigued by someone eating. She picks the strawberry up, lifting it to her luscious moth and nibbles the edge. The crimson juice flows down her mouth. She soothingly sucks the juice off. The berry is in her mouth, bit by her white teeth. The juice swells, staining her. incredible how mundane acts captivate me.
She'll always give me the Ilook/I when she done, amused by the look of complete awe I know is on my face. She'll bring the paper towel to her mouth, gently dabbing the blood away. The purity of it is tarnished by scarlet liquid. It starts out small and spreads, growing bigger and bigger.
Maybe one day I'll tell her that I love her more than life itself. But it's going to take time and a lot of courage. Until then, I'll think of her all the time. Memories of the way she tasted and felt on the rare occasions when we touched will keep me until I can get more strawberries.
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WOW! That really blows, doesn't it? I had the words right on the tip of my fingers for ages, but when I sat down to write, I lost them. Please review anyway, but don't lie and say it's good, okay?
Summary: strawberries. Use your imagination, it will probably be better that what I wrote.
Rating: NC-17 for mature subject matter. Well it was going to be, but I'm having a problem putting the words together.
Feedback: Appreciated. I need to know the good the bad and the aesthetically impaired. I believe in being politically correct *snorts*. I think words are the most important factor in effective communication, no matter what language. A no-brainer I guess ;). I've tried to use diction to relay the story, but I'm young, so if it doesn't work, sue. Wait, don't do that. I am in no way related to FOX, Dark Angel or any other section of this story. Well, except for the thoughts and words. They aren't important though.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I'm not sure how or when I fell in love. It most certainly wasn't the day we met or any other specific day for that matter. It was a slow process, like learning to ride a bike. Except the reward wasn't as clear cut and simple.. All I know is that one night she cancelled dinner. And it hurt.
I wish she wouldn't withdraw into the shell I tried so hard to extract her from. The shell of terror. I can't stand to see her like this, not willing to look me in the eye. The only bright thing in my life is strawberries.
I've never been so intrigued by someone eating. She picks the strawberry up, lifting it to her luscious moth and nibbles the edge. The crimson juice flows down her mouth. She soothingly sucks the juice off. The berry is in her mouth, bit by her white teeth. The juice swells, staining her. incredible how mundane acts captivate me.
She'll always give me the Ilook/I when she done, amused by the look of complete awe I know is on my face. She'll bring the paper towel to her mouth, gently dabbing the blood away. The purity of it is tarnished by scarlet liquid. It starts out small and spreads, growing bigger and bigger.
Maybe one day I'll tell her that I love her more than life itself. But it's going to take time and a lot of courage. Until then, I'll think of her all the time. Memories of the way she tasted and felt on the rare occasions when we touched will keep me until I can get more strawberries.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
WOW! That really blows, doesn't it? I had the words right on the tip of my fingers for ages, but when I sat down to write, I lost them. Please review anyway, but don't lie and say it's good, okay?