There is pursuit, but not the first, nor it seems, the last. There are things, creatures that be things, and feelings also, that rub the raiment of the night upon their bristled cheek. Coal dark velvet wraps their shadowed movement, darker than night, for night is mere absence of light, here there never was. She runs, but fear is no companion, for the light that is missing in ‘The One’, is present in this running waif. Fires stoked are fires hot, though they have yet to be turned loose. Does the beast that trails this child, sense the power yet unleashed? Woe be the creature, that stalks a precious prey, for though it takes much to unleash a fury, the fury knows no bounds… nor sympathy it seems, for those who lay in wait. Innocent she appears, and be it seems, but appearance is but a layer. Shed the coat, restraint is lost, the layer drops unheeded. What remains is fear indeed, for those who chase in earnest. This youthful prey, be not it seems, the reward that they have sought. A coiled spring of light and power, she fears no padded feet. She turns at last, at heavy sounds, at footfalls close behind. She smiles at last for chase is done, tables turned it seems, for vengeance wrought is vengeance sweet, for those who light the dark.
Image borrowed from Google Images
Only blogging a month or so? You have posted fascinating pieces of art and presented them with great written works. Thank you for visiting me – I’m delighted to have discovered you, John.
When I first saw the view of feet, I was thrilled about seeing a cigarette between the toes. Wrong! It’s just the waterline – but I’m still left with the image!
Thank you, I was easily as thrilled to find yours That has been the greatest joy of starting a blog, all the people I’ve met and learned from.
I think what is said here is dead accurate. How can it possibly be? It seems living words write themselves and you are just the vessel they choose.
I would never wish a commpliment to go to your head but I can only say but one word. And that word is: prophetic
uncannily so
Thanks Sara! I’m not always sure how or why I write either, but I can tell you how this one went.
I was on the couch watching a movie (K-Pax) when I received your e-mail. I read your message and the picture you sent on my phone. When I looked at the tiny picture, the first couple of lines started forming in my head. I put the movie on pause, and continued writing as I walked through the companionway back to the Captains Quarters. I logged onto my blog, typed the words, inserted the image, looked at it again in larger format to see if it matched what I just wrote. It did, so I hit submit, logged off, went backed to the couch and watched the rest of the movie.
By the way, compliments about writing won’t go to my head. They do make me wonder why I’m getting up at 5:00AM to drive an hour to work though.
Maybe you should write a book?
Writers don’t get up at 5 a.m. They go to bed at 5 a.m. (says the girl who is in bed by 11 every night).
Sounds like writing is the job for me then.
Would love to write a book, surprisingly though, I don’t know what to write about.
Write about what you know. Write about living on a boat. Or, you know, hire me to ghostwrite it for you.
This is amazing–so well-written, and able to create an entire narrative from a single image. I had to read your post several times to digest it. When I first saw the picture, my sense was that the woman was also fleeing from something dangerous (the darkness). At the same time, it appears that she is running toward the light, perhaps not to escape a threat, but to arrive somewhere that is somehow better. I love how your conclusion flips the chase on its head (the hunter becomes the prey).
I came here to thank you for commenting on my humble blog post, but I am truly impressed with what you’ve written (and would like to echo the above–I can’t believe you’re a blogging neophyte (relatively-speaking)).
I’ll definitely be back!
Thank you my friend, I’m glad you found time to visit. I really like your interpretation, and your observations of my words. I receive more joy by seeing readers interpretations, thoughts and observations, than I do with the writing, and I LOVE that.
Rest assured, you’ll see my tracks on your blog often.
New book title?
The Zen of the Glenna Jane. Musings of a foots eye view.
Why not “Sole searching on the Glenna Jane”
(On being toe’d through life by a dream)
Mmmmm nicely wrought. Your muse must fancy you, indeed. Just a personal observation, but I think the veil is thinnest in the wee hours of the a.m. and it allows for clearer ‘reception’. I am thoroughly impressed with your natural writing ability, John. Does the muse come from without or from within? Or both?
Thank you! My muse and I have a mutual admiration for each other, working with each others strength to share our passion for words. You are spot on about the clarity of reception. I’m a night person anyway, so most of what I write is in late evening or early morning. I think it comes from both. My visual muse helps me to find the wonder in things I see, and the inner muse helps me to share it with others, or so it seems.