created by : deviatedspectrum, monsterofNone, lapietra, bealeblues

Rules: one to three sentences at a time, no consecutive posts

The DJ, a twelve year old blind kid from Detroit, sat on a sand dune behind me and smiled down as if he knew where I was going. I wished that I did. I held the microphone up to my lips with my right hand and thrust my left hand into the chilly morning sky. I didn't dare look at the eyes that burned through me from the crowd. No, I had to earn my juice. Nobody was gonna make me do things their way again, but it was a hard thing to start, right now, in front of everyone, in front of her.

"everyone's got to get started, somehow, somewhere, and this is my how, my where, my time, my distance, my life, my death, my fantasy, my mother fuckin' reality. and everyone's got to get moving somehow, somewhere so this is my car, let's go. how far, i don't know..." I was feeling it. Slowly. Like the first breath of clean air after leaving L.A... sweet, intoxicating, somehow familiar yet strange and exciting. The stagelights blinded my vision, merging the audience into a darkened blur of eyes and whispers. I closed my eyes behind my sunglasses and bent to the beat, letting my tongue trip over words, spilling so fast they didn't take the time to pass through my brain for editing.

The crowd united - a viscous, blurry mass that ebbed and flowed with the music; i drew them in with each breath, and expelled them with every word.

"everybody, everyone, all together,all alone, all for one, one more time, time and space, take my place, take my time." I turned back to the DJ as the sweat started rolling freely down my face, stinging my eyes. "take me home to the place I was born, take me home!"
Roaring. In me? No...they were roaring, shrieking, whistling, calling for more... it had started slowly, built to a fevered pitch, surging like something physical. The words didn't matter. They were hearing me, my intention, my soul. The realization exploded in my mind and showered over me like a thousand caressing hands. Large fireworks of ignited energy washed me clean of doubt. This was it. It was my moment. It was my beginning

"this is my beginning, this our hope, this your conception, this is your dope. Leave it on the dance floor, leave it on the stage, leave it in the rhythm, leave it on the page." I pulled the mic from the stand and let it swing in large circles. The crowd now was an ocean, a tide seething in and out, like a memory. With a final twist, i tossed the microphone to the Haysoos, the next artist, and fled the stage.
It was too dark to see after the stage lights... but unseen hands guided me back to the green room. I collapsed on the couch next to a guy sucking on a huge bong. The heavy smoke swirled inside the green tube, a gentle bubbling sound, sparks flying from the bowl. He offered it to me. I hesitated. I felt so good already... it had been a long time.

Notes passed from hand to hand, watching them shift among sweaty fingers as I drew in the complimentary pull. "Just one." I told myself, "Just one, tonight."

"This is for you." The stage manager handed me an envelope. Nothing written on it. I turned it over. It was thick, and sealed all the way from end to end. A sweet dizzy rush radiated from the top of my head, trickling over me deliciously as I tried to get my fingernails under the flap. I finally tore it open, and the contents fell into my lap. Twelve crisp 100 dollar bills. I looked up as he raised my hand into the air, lifting me to my feet. "Ladies and Gentlemen, to no ones great surprise the winner for tonight's open mike, i give you Sarah!" The backstage denizens, and local slam fest regulars offered up a healthy applause. I could feel the sting of tears welling up, happy for the shades.

I knew she could see me. There was no hiding in the spotlight, beneath the glow of their applause and attention. I finally gathered the courage to look over where she had been standing. But she was gone, vanished into the crowd. I laughed out loud at her disappearing act. Tonight anything was going to be alright. I could feel the adrenaline slowly working its way out of my system leaving a quiet calm in it's place. I needed a shower, that's what i needed, and a beer from a cold bottle.
I stuffed the bills deep into my boot, said my goodbyes and thanks, and headed out the back of the building. It was a beautiful night, deep velvet blue sky, the stars like tiny scattered diamond chips spinning and winking. My car was parked on the far end of the lot, but I didn't mind. I felt like I could walk for miles. For the first time in a long time i didnt mind being alone.

I took the long way home, around the lake... there was plenty of time before the bars closed, and I knew of one that stayed open until four a.m.... great dancing and conversation, excellent selection of beer, not too far from my place. That was where I met her... almost two years ago, now, before I tried my hand at any kind of performing. I was stuck in a dead end job, full of anger, but turning it in on myself, eating out my insides, tearing away at my edges, burning at me like a flame burns a sheet of paper. It never occurred to me I could do something like this... it never occurred to anyone. I hit the long, straight stretch before Gilberts Corner, slammed it into fifth and let it wind out for a few seconds. I screamed as the speedometer climbed briefly above 110, then I eased it back. I didn't want to be James Dean... not even a little. So, I nosed it down, made the turn and pulled into my side yard to the sounds of crickets and a gentle lake effect breeze.

My heart was still pounding and hands shaking a little with adreniline as I fumbled the key into my front door lock... and was shocked to find her, lounging on the sofa, reading one of the coffee table books I keep there. People kept giving them to me; I think it's the thing people give when they don't know what to give. I could understand; my personality was still amorphous until recently. She didn't give me any of them, though. "What... How did you get in?" I stood in the doorway, fighting an urge to turn around and walk out. "I kept a copy of your key," she replied, closing the book gently and setting it back in its place.
I struggled for something to say, but, for the first time all evening, found my mouth completely empty. She always could rob me of my words. She walked up to me and put a hushed finger over my lips. "Shhh..." she whispered. I held her arms at the elbows for a second, smiling through a few strands of hair. "Y'know what?" She was startled that for once in my life I was slowing the action down. "I need a beer... and I need a shower, alone. If you can wait for those two things to happen well then...alright."

She smiled softly and gave me a slight wink of her right eye, then sighed back into the couch, opening her book where she left off. I backed away, keeping my eye on her as I walked into the kitchen. She glanced up at me and giggled silently and hid behind her novel. I reached into the fridge to grab a Pabst Blue Ribbon longneck. On the way to the shower i popped the top and took a long, cold draw, cleaning the insides. I finished half the bottle in two, long pulls and set it balanced on the back of the toilet as I shucked my clothing, sticky from the summer's air and the evening excitement. Water poured over me fast and cool. It was a baptism, tearing my past away and breathing into me a new life of success, love, happiness and hope. I felt my skin open up, swallowing the river that flowed over my body.

I stepped out, toweled off, wrapped the wet towel around me and grabbed the empty. It was still slightly cold; I didn't think I'd rushed but I realized it had been 5 minutes, tops. I sidled into the kitchen and dropped the bottle in the recycling bin, then turned to the bedroom to change. I headed for the closet in the dark, intending to turn on the lamp nearby, but something caught my eye. I turned on the light and quickly spun around to catch the perpetrator in the act, only to realize it was just a couple of sweaters draped heavily on a hanger. My mind was getting away from me.

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. Things had been bad for so long; it's been a long time since life has been nice and easy. But for one night things were moving in perfect order and I refused to mess it up with paranoid thoughts. I remembered to dump the bed clear of piles of clothing before I threw on a pair of jeans and and an old button-up dress shirt and went in to the living room.

She was sitting on the couch, silent, under her book. Her eyes were closed shut. I brushed her silky chesnut hair from her forehead and let my fingers linger on the soft, flawless surface of her alabaster cheek. I closed her book, making sure to dog ear the page, and nestled in next to her slight frame. I laid awake for quite some time before drifting off to sleep, trying to drink in the moment, consciously dreaming.
I woke to the toothsome scent of coffee and bacon and the sound of pots being moved around in the kitchen. She was trying not to make noise; I could tell because a couple times I heard her swear under her breath when she banged something a little too loud. But I felt wonderful, despite the fact I'd spent the night in an easy chair; slept just enough. "Hey babe," I called to her as I shoved myself to my feet. "You didn't have to do that." I found her in the kitchen, hair drawn up in a soft bun in back, my apron, too big on her, covering her to her knees. She wrinkled her nose and twinkled at me. "Victory brekkie," she said pertly. "Go have a seat; I'll bring it to you."

I wasn't used to such attention, but surpressed my urge to resist her fuss. I grabbed a nearby sheet of paper and pen and began to sketch out words that drifted through my morning mind. Last night seemed like the dream of a cool summer's breeze, and the memory began to quickly unravel in my mind. I pounced upon it, grasping it's speeding thread, and tied it back together onto my paper. I couldn't believe Lindsay was here, she was back. I couldn't believe it happened without fight, without struggle. I didn't want to think about the past or the future. I just wanted to sip the morning in with my warm, comforting cup of coffee.

As I began to write I looked up at her, "Check you out, the domestic goddess!" This was a kind of good it hadn't been in months, maybe ever. I licked the tip of the pencil, tasting the dull graphite taste (like blood, a little like blood) and began to charge the page...
"The night tore it open
the story, the music
the sadness, the sickness
it's left me, it's out there
the empty politeness..."

Something had changed. The juice. I could hear myself on the stage in every word. I had been bourne onto a new place by the night. I had been given myself back to myself, mirrored by a thousand voices, and the verdict was: we hear you speak your truth, fearlessly, and we love for it; give us more! And so I would... for some reason I finally knew I would.

Maybe she saw it last night too, that i had actually found my way back. That's why she left in the first place, or so she said, because she could no longer find me in my own words. But now my words resonated with something more than i could even create, something from deeper beyond where i'd even been or had even dared to think of going. My mind raced with the possibilities; my skin pulsed with each throb of my racing heart. No doubt she was in tune with me now-- i wasn't even surprised to feel her touch across my neck.
Lindsay had dropped a plate of hot food on the table in front of me, but I paid little attention to it. I had been waiting for this moment in every dream, in every empty pause, in every heavy sigh since I last saw her. I turned towards her and stared into her warm acorn-coloured eyes. They were wet, filling with joyous tears. As I brough my hand up the side of her neck, caressing her jawbone and cheek, she closed her eyes, letting a single tear spill from her eye, which landed like a salty crystal upon my thumb. I wiped away the dew that still lay upon her lashes and brought her face to mine for a gentle, soft kiss. She was crying steadily now and her tears ran down her face and softened her lips. I tried for a brief moment to say a simple "hush" but even that took too long and was abandoned as our mouths began to explore. Our hands, our legs, our hips all became a part of this dance now. Unnecessary clothing was shed with unnoticed effectiveness as we began to drop to the floor and then broke apart in a momentary giggling dash to the bedroom. I fell onto her and drew a finger down her smiling cheek, still wet from the tears of a moment ago. Her hands slid up and tangled in my hair, bringing my mouth down to hers in a long, searching kiss. Soon all conscious intention was abandoned and we were one, moving together as if by some shared awareness, warm skin sliding like silk over warm skin... our mouths met and parted; her lips moved down my throat and traveled over my body...

She teased me, she bent me, she pulled me with every touch. We tangoed closer and closer upon each other, breathing in harmony with each tender motion. I locked my lips with her and wrapped my hands around her abdomen, slowly bringing her down to the bed. I hovered only daylight's height abover her, brushing myself over every inch of her blushing skin. I felt her catch her breath at each touch while my quieted fires erupt again as she arched her body to meet mine. I lingered, melding my body with hers, piercing her sanctity with my moistened lips, feeling every her every shudder to depths of my own being. I could feel her submit to me with complete abandon as her hands grappled at my hair. As I moved down on her I began to think of the night before, the crowd moving like an ocean, seething. I was in control for that moment but I needed the feedback, the chorus of voices chanting with my every breath. Her hands in my hair, her hips' movement, the rolling motion of the crowd, all one in my mind. The sweat and the rhythm, the movement and the rhyme, the timing and the poetry. Total communion, total communication, one impulse, one body, one purpose, one astonishing moment... one payoff.

We seperated in a staccato symphony of sighs, spent and sated. Something had changed, that much had been made abundently clear to the two of us. Something had changed, perhaps for forever.
We dozed off and on for about an hour; when we rose the sun was bright and warm in the room. I went into the kitchen and heated up the breakfast while Lindsay showered; we ate slowly, lingering over food and conversation, drawing out the time... I ached to talk about what had happened between us, to verbalize it... I hoped I could remember enough to write later... then I realized I'd never lose the experience... whether I repeated it or not. Something told me that I had even more to look forward to... for the first time in my life, I felt truly serene. But the panic came back- it always did with these moments. I always felt guilty for being happy, fearful of the calm. I got up and cleared the table as Linds' read the paper quietly, contentedly. I stacked the plates and the cups and set them in the sink. Within a few minutes they were rinsed and in the dishwasher, whirring and hissing away. I leaned against the counter for a good twenty minutes. The panic was different now, quieter. I knew it's boundaries now. I had it penned in. Whatever grace was, somehow there was something that had touched me, and in being touched all aspects of my life had been made better. It made me want to thank a god I'd never believed in before.
It was hard to simply laugh off.