Lily runs second take

 

The trailer park that I call home finally blurs into view. Under cover of darkness little bits of trailers blink in and out of view highlighted by scattered streetlights as I get closer to the park entrance. That is the reason I like this park. The odd triangle space that held my home was completely apart from the large manufactured homes that were stacked on top of each other in militant rows with no more than three feet on other side. Tom, the park manager had hooked this odd area up for me last year when I came here looking for a place to park.  The utilities outlets that were haphazardly hooked up was more telling that my rent was probably off the books but what do I care? With all my problems holding jobs the space rent was cheap and the leaky micro home was paid for. A win all around.  The added bonus was the trailer had nothing over thirty feet on either side of it. The corner backed up to the thicket of woods that separated the park from the thoroughfare that ran parallel to the outside. A warm safe feeling starts to settle on me knowing I am in the final distance to my little cabin in the woods.

The panic-driven marathon had driven me five miles from my home and seven miles from where I had been working. When I am in full-throttled driven fear I just run blind without any conscious steering, like being blackout drunk. Heat rising in my cheeks as I roll my eyes thinking about my last job. I start imagining the conversations in my wake of just “blowing the joint” mid-day. I am sure the flight of the insane redhead will fuel breakroom tales for years to come. I could hear it now “Dude, I think she escaped from a mental institute, she totally was microwaving body parts in that one …right there!” Images of a wild-haired youth stabbing a stubby finger to one of the company microwaves flashes in my mind. Another similarly hygiene-challenged worker enthusiastically adds using wild hand gestures “Oh yeah, I totally knew she was completely bat shit.” His voice drawling the word totally as his eyes go wide to add more drama to the statement. “She completely wanted to do me in the storage closet then started talking about zombies and shit … true story I swear!” Ladies and gentlemen, these are the contents of my twisted little head. Mentally taking a bow to the barren street before me dowsed the muted tones of nightfall.

It takes all my concentration to keep my legs made heavy from exhaustion moving forward, every step like swimming in syrup.  The entire walk home my mind a concert of disoriented mental musings and self-flagellation that swung wildly. What am going to do for a job now? Fuck my legs hurt! Is that my stomach?  Haunted childhood memories of a wild-eyed mentally ill mom hiding us in the closet from the invisible monsters that only she could see, plays in the background on a loop of masochistic mental theatre. The smell of cold sweat competing with the lilacs of her perfume whirl around us as she clung to my confused little body, rocking and speaking in a language I never understood. It took years to realize that the monsters of my mother’s mind were hers alone and not a real physical threat. However, in the night, dreams of things that terrify keep me hostage until at their will I am at last released, waking damp with sweat and shaking. Often it made me wonder how to define the word ‘real’. My already burning chest constricts as the thought that funds my deepest fears comes flooding to the forefront, Is this what I am becoming? Will I be too far gone to live in the world soon? 

The impact of that pronouncement weighs my head down and burns my eyes.

My stride slowing, boots feeling more like iron anvils as the tide of dark future hollows me out.

Trying to shake off the shadier judgements in my mental sphere, I  think to what had started the panic attack. Remembering being in the breakroom, I snuffle at the possibility that it was started by the act of getting coffee. Oh my! Scary coffee! Oh ehh. God if that is what my fear responds to I will have to put all coffee shops on the no fly list. A mental image of a large red button protruding on all the local coffee shop store entrances flies in to do a commercial break on the crazy mom After School Special and now back to your regularly scheduled programming I muse as the movies queue right up regardless of how I try and think of anything else.

A gentle breeze softly washes over me, wedging a tendril of peace through my current circular psychological beat down. I lean my cheek into the cool gust like it was the hand of a treasured lover beyond thankful for the small reprieve even if it is only temporary. Turning into the rundown mobile home park my tiny silver bullet shaped home is in swings in to sight.

 

Muzzily pondering the shiny metal door like a puzzle I haven’t quite worked out. A sliver of thought needles into my tired haze, something isn’t quite right. Muscles groan in protest as they stiffen against the fear that whispers through me. Something in the back of head moans “nooooo, not again”. A quick scan reveals nothing out of place. Faint sounds of people in the other trailers settling in for the night, distant traffic, dog barking, trees rustling in the wind are the only things I hear.  Geez, I really have to get this under control. Sighing heavily, face in a grimace, I set to checking around the outside of the caravan looking for anything that might seem out of place. Peripherally a shift of color in the thicket turns my attention toward the sparse pine trees that line the back part of my lot. Oddly my nervous system has nothing to say. What no “oh my god the apocalypse is near bullshit”? Snorting in sour amusement that my panic isn’t rising. I shift to pan the entire area around me. Wow! I note in astonishment as I am feeling is tired, hungry, bitchy and self-loathing but not freaked out. Three more attributes and I could write a children’s story about the many faces of crazy and how they defeated the evil queen.  The street light near my home casts a pale illumination over the area. Calmly I peer once again into the copse, listening for branches breaking, scanning for movement. Nothing. Great! Can I go home now? Sarcastically turning the question inwardly. I find the hiding place for my spare key and heave the trailer door open, the usual smell of mildew hitting me in the face as I smack the light switch inside the door on.

Shit! Standing in the doorway cold shock competing with incredulity ebb over me as I take in the piles of clothes, books and kitchen utensils scattered everywhere, I wasn’t great at picking up after myself but … this was not how I left it. Still taking in the disarray a sense of violation overwhelming me, a wall of energy pushes against me like a wave at the beach shoving out everything else. Suddenly the awareness of soft pinpricks crawling over my skin and the smell of that comes with lightning during a storm shifts past me as the hair on my arms stands in response to what feels like electricity crackling. Great I can feel a thunder storm but not scared? This is so fucking wrong. I get burgled and nooooo that isn’t a big deal, but oh god, get a cup of coffee and EEEEE the world is ending. My internal dialog gets no response from that part of brain that seems to inform most of my panic fueled episodes. The tide of sensations pulls at me from my back, turning cautiously, I see a large man is standing at in the roadway pensively looking at me. Slowly, he strides toward me features hidden in shadow. I know I should feel some sort of warning or apprehensive. I mean if you were standing in the mouth of a recently broken into trailer in the middle of the night by yourself and a large muscular guy starts to head toward you that would evoke a little bit of ’oh shit this is a bad idea’ but nope. I am going to stand here let him knife me to death cuz I got nothing left. Tomorrow, I am sooooo going to fire my psychiatrist.  That is if I live through the murder rape that I apparently don’t have any fear of. These new meds have my emotions completely screwed up!  As the looming figure closes the distance, extreme pressure tightens around my head, like a large hand squeezing my brain, my chest constricts gasping I feel the rough texture of asphalt under my knees. A spike of searing pain shoots behind my eyes causing my vision edge into blackness.

Abruptly all sound ceases, the pain is gone and all around me is barrier of uncompromising black nothingness. The treacly walls seem to be devoid of everything, light, sound and even emotion. Gradually surfacing out of the dark murky sea that spans in front of me, unfocused sepia images spin sluggishly into life. The blurry pictures twist and morph into bright threads of blue, green and red. The lively strands move eerily toward me, each quivers with different energies that I sense like keys on a vocal register. I feel completely overcome with a compulsive need to touch them. Tentatively I reach for the green one, penetrating power vibrates up my arm. Glimpses of ancient warriors lined up for battle flashes in bright colors.

Whooshing thunders in my ears and I am laying on the battlefield, mud-caked hair clings to my head clothes stiff from the filth that comes from wearing them too long without washing.  I can’t move. Searing pain burns up from my leg and I know that it is a sword wound that has been festering for some days as the putrid smell reaches me mixed with gun powder. My stomach a burning hollow. If I don’t die from my wound, starvation with end me. My ears fill with sounds of metal sheathed into flesh followed by the inevitable thud of a bodies falling to mud. My soul is too weary to worry about which one of my friends it is, just glad that they won’t have to endure being held prisoner or tortured. Cold wracks my body in bone-rattling shivers. Why won’t I just die and be released from this realm? Is this hell?  Heartbreaking screams of pain surround me from every direction. My eyes already closed to block out the bloody sight of the fallen are felling tears as I again pray to the god that has refused me for these past days to please take me, dread in knowing the torture has begun.

Startled I pull back and drop the thread. What the hell? Is this all a freaking dream? The battlefield fades into the black sea still encasing me from all sides. I try to absorb what I just saw…. or lived through? The remnants of the hopelessness and deep sadness still pulse through me.  The sounds, smells, emotions too real. My dreams tend to be dark and sometimes vivid but this…this is over the top.  The red thread now hanging ominously closer than the others. Still being driven by the unexplainable lure to put my hands on it but apprehension reigns me back.  Guess you wanna be next eh? I say nervously to the pulsing cord. I address it first by waving my hand in front trying to gauge what I will feel when I touch it. Nothing radiates from the surface other than then constant humming of energy that I felt when the strings first come into vision. Hopefully I won’t get sucked into a sinner being ‘questioned in the Spanish Inquisition’. Bracing my emotions, I hesitantly put a finger against the silky surface The black around me fades quickly. Overwhelming waves of desire saturate through the sinew of me. My body is aching with need. The heady fragrance of sweat and jasmine swirls in the bright bedroom, I know we have to hurry.  A bare muscular bronze chest tightens under my sliding fingers. I can feel his heart I amaze. Skimming the length of his body with mine I press into him, “please..I need you” my whispered pleading breathed into the moist skin at his breast as my lips skim over his taut nipple .  My eyes sweep up to implore him.  A rush of sensations re-assaulting my loins as my gaze makes contact…oh god those eyes. Orange-red flames lick and flicker where there should be color and iris, flames that burn to the corners of my soul leaving only blacken shards behind. That his eyes have changed to their true form a sign he is losing control. Good. I revel in the feel of his yearning manifested in pure radiation raking over my flesh like gush of heat from a newly opened furnace door. His aura envelopes me in a smoldering embrace as his mouth gently slants to my neck. The sensation of a soft warm tongue deceptively gentle laves my pounding pulse with hints of teeth, then snaking a trail over my skin. I toss my head back in a cry of ecstasy as he ravenously bites my neck so hard it draws blood. A deep feral sound emanates from the slick heaving chest as a light brush of his long honey colored hair sweeps over my shoulder. The torturous feeling of large confident hands lightly caresses my back evoking little ripples of sensation as they travel down than roughly grabbing the small of back hinting of delicious violence, now moving across my backside jerking my body to him in a breathtaking jolt.  Masculine hips grind erotically against the delicate flesh at my clenching groin, hoarse moans escape my dry throat feeling the hardness of him. Panting in desperate need I arch back in response. A sensual mouth falls on mine softly, a slip of tongue probing into the depths of mine, then brutishly demanding.  There is nothing but him, I can’t let go, I must feel all of him. Fire rages through me devouring all sense of space and time.

Breathless I let go of the thread. WOW! this is so much better than most of my dreams I muse while still tingling from the sensations of her palpable longing. So not a battle scene… but sort of. I …er she was trying to push him over the edge…of what? But my own personal porn channel? …I have had some …interesting dreams before, but that was… I have never experienced that sort of … intensity. As soon as I had willed myself back and dropped contact with the scene the black abyss had swum back around me again and now the blue one swings into focus. I just touch without any preamble, it can’t be worse than the others.   As soon as I grab the color, sickly thick glomming energy creeps up my hand like motor oil. Birds song fills the air as a wind quietly sweeps over me bringing the rich scents of grass and earth. A bright sunlight clearing bathed in golds and oranges unfolds before me. This scene feels completely different than the last two. The boots currently crunching dried grass as I survey the little grove are the style I wear when I not dreaming I note. The thoughts and emotions seem to be mine as well. Curiouser and Curiouser. A motorcycle leaning against a large oak tree at the edge of the copse that outlines the glade seems distinctly out of place.  I come closer to the wooded area, and see the outline of a man bent over looking closing at the botany. His long ebony black hair tousled down partially covering a pale face, Black button down shirt softly drapes toward the foliage as he moves to get a better look. Goth plant guy catching my presence casts me a sidelong eye, straightens to his full height then turning looks directly at me. The penetrating gaze of soft gray eyes swarms over me causing my stomach to flip. He can’t actually see me right? The other dreams were just scenes replaying with me wearing someone elses skin… but this one felt different, crisper. After what seems like an eternity but actually only like ten seconds, Tall, dark and herbal clears his throat. “Hello Lily, I am glad we are finally meeting” he says eyes guarded  like he is half expecting me to attack him. Completely dumbfounded I just stare mouth gaping. “you can see me?” my voice too high pitched from surprise and oddly disregarding the fact that he knew who I was, but if I was dreaming then yea he would know me…duh. Plant dude relaxes his stance, nods toward the grass patch in front of me, unspoken query asking permission to come over. Nodding back in acquiescence I watch him as he takes a few long strides, hops a few bushes to close the six feet that separated between us, finally coming to stand a foot away from me. I take in his perfect pale complexion that seems almost too perfect. His eyes the color of a thunder storm added with that pale ethereal skin in contrast to the ebony black shirt, pants and boots he is wearing, Yep, Marilyn Manson wanna be, you forgot the white contact I think in amusement. The fine features of his face are still held in taut regard as he moves his full mouth like he is working out what to say. “How did you come to be here?” he says softly still holding me in what looks to be lightly reigned disbelief. “Dunno” eyes never leaving his, shrugging slightly. “I think I am asleep” my voice rises at the end, like it as question. “But this dream isn’t like the others ..at all” I highlight the last word with a dismissing hand gesture. Dark and Dreary seems to let out a body releasing sigh, relaxing his shoulders down, his gaze considers me more earnestly. Lips twitching in a tight smile “Hi, I am Magnus” arching one eyebrow smile widening “and it’s time for you to wake up, but you will see me again” Magnus gives a flirty wink than blackness curls in washing the colors of the glade out leaving effervescent gray eyes the last thing to recede into the wall of darkness. My mind starts unreeling spinning, falling, then blissful nothingness.

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