yet needing it to come to life so that he might see to its fruition
she could detect the slightest change in his breathing
the look in his eyes
the tremble in his left hand
She had been trained secondhandedly
no one expected her to achieve; surpass
but he was fire and she required an indescribable warmth
learning meant revoking her own life
willingly she succumbed to the quest of knowledge over sensibilities
she'd flourish
he'd control the path
the coming years of darkness
He tested the waters first
took her by the hand and led her into the abyss
changing her life from that day on
And they lied.
His intent, ever present, required the shroud of silence.
She kept his secret
Even when they were separated
for a time
all was vested, kept under strict control by the promise of friendship
we don't rat our friends out, no matter the personal cost
each and every night he felt his life slipping slowly into the past
he drank
used drugs to attempt to erase the memory
refused to speak her name aloud
realizing that the spoken words would cause him to relive her
he lie down with women
only to have to close the lights
keep the demons at bay
or so he believed
truth was
his committed relationship was lacking
she never felt loved quite enough
couldn't place her finger on it
but deep down knew he was in their home but not entirely living there.
he could not love.
so he lied.
"I love you. I want you as my wife..."
She subscribed to hate.
hated all that he stood for
his blood felt inferior to her
her shattered dreams all his fault
blame took his despair to a whole new level
guilt tore at his soul
every waking moment
a hallow man emerged
close to death by surrender.
She went on to utilize each and everything that he had taught her
his genius willed her to breach what she was thought to do
broke free and became who he had originally cultivated
much to the surprise of others
and dismay
11th hour had arrived.
She knew what she must do.
They spoke.
She revealed that it was time the truth came to light.
He agreed.
There was no one left to stop them.
The cost had been significant, but the price had been paid in full.
Broken promises to the outsiders, battered and bruised both weary walked back to where it all began
chose their words carefully
and aloud, spoke what had begun as a mere whisper
He would no longer live the lie, he'd refuse to allow her to leave.
Together, exclusively, they'd complete what they had planted
no apologies
simply a time to harvest
She waited on the bench in the sauna for him to return.
The script of their deepest secret was to be placed on her back, written in Finnish.
From her shoulders to her hips
how her flesh burned,
felt tortured.
His intent was clear.
My mark, our truth.
He flashed a warning glance at her to be methodical;
swift and proficient
do what you must, utilize intent
finish.
She stood tall, her strength deriving from a longing for completion.
wounded, both embraced wincing from the pain, content.
He took her hand, pronounced his truth to the woods where he grew to become a man
turned to her and made her his true wife
fully understanding that this marriage negated their collective pasts and would damage any and all preconceptions of who and what he was.
His past relationship held the intent of severe revenge for not being a real husband
friend
or remotely who she thought him to be
She wished him death, did all she could to tear them apart.
"If I cannot be at peace, I offer you war."
Truth however tends to not only take hold but rip apart lies, this she knew to be truth.
She held her tongue, regarding the bitterness of one woman to be somewhat justified. They had indeed lied. Together they had destroyed so many in their lives because they hadn't dealt with the years of neglect.
The haunting wasn't on the right side, however as always, she'd defend him, protect him.
She had been entirely complicit throughout....
She destroyed the intrusion as one final act of contrition.
He was a part of her that she could no longer deny.
Their intent was crystal clear.
We will live our truth, now and for the rest of time.
The darkness in over.
Our secret will remain long past death, we will however, live a thousand years together in each and every lifetime...
From my hand to yours,
Sawyer
Saint Andrews
Fairly soon John and I will be taking questions on line, looking forward to hearing from you all.
Blessed days to you all and your families.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
'Summerlands'
our beliefs the existing reality
I wanted to be heard-correction-I needed to be heard
I spoke onto the wind (as we who have passed so often do) to rectify a wrong that I myself had long suffered
One feather shy of a wing to realize the Summerlands
I whispered, spoke, sang, screamed and finally shouted
until my voice resonated in the drum of the well of her ear
Deep in the desperation of prayer,
wide open to acknowledging what others would readily deny
the Scribe became the mark
And so,
she placed pen to paper
He, simply put, did not/does not believe
yet always knew this day would come for him
With a tidal wave of difficult decisions;
reckless choice
I shoved
"Necessary destruction to a life well constructed"
Ill conceived via pride
Cage the wild, tame the mind, wait....
He found that his prison was merely reactive, for death precedes life
Her mind (the Scribe) took flight from suggestion
etching ever so close
Concern swept over me when I bore witness to the pair (albeit individually) free fall
held my breath did I
seemingly for their lifetime complete
-Until he uttered the words that life as he knew it had drawn its natural conclusion
"There is futility building upon the darkened sand of escapism"
Without honest concrete infused with light, he'd never realize peace and she'd find death prematurely surely
If he didn't act in haste
In a moment of mediation
his blood intervened, sensing the turn of events arrival;
longing for his brothers contentment...renewal
I pressed
"Let her know the truth of it all"
With that
moth to flame she flew directly into the safety of his arms
wishing, aching no longer
he finally reading the words that I had whispered
she able to exhale
He filled her heart with truth; relieving the pain of the lies they had been living
The pair,
the Saint and the Sinner leave with lives fulfilled
And as for myself?
The warmth of the suns rays burn ever so brightly on my shoulders as I ride on
waiting for their 'someday arrival' together
because that is how it was written
"As they began together so shall they pass forth"
From my hand to yours,
Sawyer
Saint Andrews
Just wanted to offer a tip of the hat to Billy, for all that you did, deepest thank you
Monday, June 11, 2012
The Release
A thousand years of the blackest night hovereddirectly above
anticipating our demise
Said softly that she merely wished to speak to the man I was meant to be
not the tattered one standing in front of her now
had to hear the words
denied to her all of those years ago
Crushed by the weight of truths pain
I stumbled
fell upon a sword of inate silence
Warned her that the scars may be running far too deep for even I to delve past
she held no belief in the shallow excuse
pressed for the boy that she missed
wanted the man that I had become
as long as I could open the door to my soul
As it had been
she never could settle for less than everything
would not be dismissed by demeanor
I spoke
Took about all that I held dearly to open my eyes
reveal
accept
acknowledge
then tell her that I had loved her all along
never wavering
not even one day
This meant that our entire lives had been grounded by a cold hard lie
buried
with compost that heavied our every intention
I discussed the art of letting go
she threw a shoe at my head
laughing...
wasn't much for the arts
tenacity, she remarked was perhaps the only reason we were standing here
Seven shades of stubborn
faced me
some kept us from the inevitable
others brought us here
Hushed her with a life long kiss
took her breath for my own
knew that she hadn't changed
The core of who we are
carried beneath all of the troubles, responsibilities and life's turmoil
simply waiting for someone to dust off
surprise the world with child like innocense
needed
to fill the air
with inextinguishable hope
I pulled her into me;
fiercely
intent clear and present
tears of release trickled down onto my shoulders with the greatest of ease
though hearing the sobs of regret stabbed at my heart
I held her
Embracing the one secret I held from the world
I found release
provided her the same
complete with the arena in which to live out the rest of lives
Night of a thousand shards of the deepest black daggers of glass thundered when they slammed into the ground surrounding she and I in that moment
We nearly drown in the sea of tears flooding from our eyes
Like always
I took hold of her hand and led
Home awaited....
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Carpe diem jugulum
or
extinguish
realize ecstasy
or fall into the depths of despair;
your fingers scrapping the paint chips off of the wall in frustration...
Procure submission by measured dominance
or falter through pointless vacillation
Nearly consumed with the last bout of the worlds depression I gently inquired as to how one would know what to believe in when it all falls apart?
Where are the white lines blurring, whirling by me as I drive precisely leading me to?
The strewn aged card sent to provide me with extended comfort states that laughter lifts;
hope coats
truth floats and lastly honor stands
and that you stand for me
by me
Redemption through recovered and shared memories
unified truths
righting a horrific wrong that seemed insurmountable before now
Dancing in the rivers water
drenched in tears of elation
knowing full well that the weight of my actions could very well drown me
like a child I hold my hands out to you in need of comfort
begging for you to know better
For we are very well of the bravest stock
our kind harvested throughout the years - culminating to this particular moment
One must stand so that the other might free fall backwards
in order to realize release
to return whole
It's time for me to go home
re establish place and purpose
be with you
trust
that I will be able to finally gasp for air
not choke
stumble and lose my way
Time was that the only light I could see was just beneath the door;
hear the breath of the water heater
and pray that you'd come for me
spare me one more second of fear
retribution
for being special
Special is only special until it gathers up speed and becomes loathing
To you
I was of you
simplistic in natures selection
Take me to the river
say the words
remind me of who I once was
tell me
who I will become
with you
Before the first kiss
you wrap your hands around my delicate throat
inquiring roughly
if I recall
how much trust is required
for the kiss
for the darkness to sweep over us both
Closing the eyes
removes the safety of that shimmer of light
the shield to ward off claustrophobia
relying 100% on your valour
Breathe with me
let your heart beat in time with mine
and trust
in the fallen
Once the darkness escapes us
you and I
shall soar back into the light
Saint and Sinner
harboring our shared secrets
together
bound for the 640th door
your voice
gruffly whispers into my ear
ever
so
seductively
Come now,
it's time...
He runs his hand down the script
carved into my back
reminding me that he will not allow us to turn back at any juncture
we are,
in its finality
our destiny...
Somewhat dark this go around...
Been alot weighing on my shoulders...
The truth is a wonderful thing, at times...
It can also turn your entire life into the biggest lie you ever imagined.
You do the best that you can with what you have before you-
but when it catches up to you- and it always does in one way or another-
free fall, trust...
quote from kb: "I don't want to start a flame in your heart; I want to set the world on fire"
She could've stolen that one, I honestly am not certain.
Thought it was worth repeating. For me it is both...feeling is paramount,
living numb is insanity to me....
From my hand to yours,
Sawyer
Saint Andrews
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
"Patientia"
Patience.
*
He held the patience to wait for her;
a virtue that had never subsided
in all of these years.
*
Determination vested, he pressed forward
far past his current limitations
*
He'd have to, to ease the distance between them
*
She'd always return in the past;
consistently so
later times he'd see to the personal delivery of her
this pleased him immensely
fed self empowerment
*
There were years...subsequently let go
pride had bested lucid judgement
clouded the wisdom of discarding perception
Truth, half truths had been quietly set aside
*
A new space born of necessity had presented itself
'Primal adaption'
He had assimilated
where as she had settled for less...
*
Until less had become more than she could handle
She'd run...
With certainty, he knew this
*
There were no words;
assigned blame
it was the immaturity of youth acting in place of steady will
as the decisive sword of injustice
*
But she knew his name...
never spoke it aloud
ran a marathon that soon evolved into the journey of a lifetime
with a refusal to offer surrender with any real truth
*
Still,
she was complete in the emptiness
without him the internal compass was cut
*
His life had brought him here
this dark, desolate place
to reconsider
Gods voice
"Acknowledge the theft, realize repercussions"
*
The sweat poured down his face
burning his eyes profusely
still, he lifted the weights above his head
he required strength in abundance to successfully make the trek
*
Back to her
*
Time was to reclaim
*
He showered, glanced one last time in the mirror.
Reread the address
no corrections
going back was not a viable option
*
Iron will restrained thoughts of the initial words to be spoken
nothing could be scripted
it was simple;
patience had reached its limit
today there could be only one outcome
*
He chose to leave the vehicle half a mile away in distance from the front door
the ringing in his ears constant
his conscious screaming its unwanted opinion
to be free
he had to possess the truth;
for that her eyes held the key
*
One knock
significant wait
she tugged at the latch
stood in awe
as the whole of her life fell onto the floor
*
He didn't smile
didn't embrace
simply asked if she was ready to come home
*
She wiped the tears from her eyes and nodded.
Not once had she known the strength to deny him
this was no exception
*
From this life into the next she placed her hand into his and allowed herself to be led
*
Accepted that they could no longer live without one another
*
He held her in his arms, reciting, one by one, the names and individual stories of everyone now passed
She reciprocated;
knowing full well that this was home now
*
Time came to take her as his wife
a given
bring her into his home
a certainty
nightly wait for her to lie in the strength of his arms
this
he continued
until old age
with the greatest
of patience
*
*
We're all in this together. When people work to extend a hand, say that word of encouragement or even provide a generous smile
it makes a difference
Enjoy your week,
From my hand to yours,
Sawyer
Saint Andrews
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Grace
My uncle and my father had laid their claim to this land;
cultivated the soil
built the small, white cabin in their youth
added, over time, framed photographs
captured candid moments of who we were;
glimpses of who we’d become…
I drove the double tracked road, braking intermittently down the hill-
trying to avoid the gaps in the graveled road. I took comfort in the familiarity of the area;
the sauna resting on the right hand side of the cabin, the aged well pump in front of the entrance…
It had been quite sometime since I had been home.
Peaceful land… a beautiful way to know slumber when the night would surely close.
Glancing over to her I felt elation at her wonder of the heritage.
She spoke of loving the woods; it having been a lifelong refuge during troubled times
And obviously these times were difficult…
I pulled up to the cabin, placed the vehicle in park and leaned over, taking her hand into mine.
She smiled weakly…must’ve known why I brought her here.
“We should talk.”
I lead her over to the over stuffed couch, motioning for her to sit down,
clearing my throat I continued “I brought you here to decide…either way I want you to know that I believe that I could come to love you, in time.”
She searched his eyes for sincerity, confused herself by the self destructive behavior she’d been exhibiting lately. She had prayed for this man to come for her.
(Earlier that day)
In a country church, she had entered, sobbing.
If you had stopped and asked why, she held no singular reason.
Fact was, her life had been shattered by a sequence of on foreseen events- none of which she could emotionally handle.
But she knew this.
That’s why she called out to God for him.
She had been given a name
this she promptly discarded
to ease the sorrow;
release the darkness
Declan had been in a prison of his own.
His wife lie dead, cold in the ground now for nearly 7 years.
Successful, attractive and wealthy, it meant nothing without someone to share it with…His brother now fallen, Declan sought out prayer from the group of mourners; walking into the chapel for a moment of solitude.
The funeral was breaking into factions of relatives and friends discussing his brothers life, not something he desired to engage in.
Much to painful.
He heard the guttural sounds of sorrow reverberating off of the chapel walls when he initially entered. To be thoughtful he’d of left her to the engulfing pain, but Declan was a man’s man. He could no sooner leave the stranger to be crushed by the dark emotions than remove himself from prayer.
He’d see to her; though not before kneeling and succumbing to his own calamity.
Surely God would either grant him a reprieve or afford him death.
She never felt his presence until the mans strong hand rest upon her left shoulder.
Declan stood behind her and inquired firmly what it was that troubled her so?
She kept her head down, drenching her beige skirt with even more tears. All that seemed to escape her lips were the words “I’m tired.”
He was no ones fool.
Never had been.
Astute was an attribute that he had vested early on…
When the voice came to him discussing Prevenient Grace and all that would follow, he had heard; the intent was clear.
Yet to be there; the moment it actually reached fruition? While he understood that it would quantify his actions, would this stranger afford him the latitude?
Declan had bowed his head. Prayed mightily.
Received a calling that he never expected.
Three rows over was the woman who was to be his wife.
God informed him that she had prayed for his arrival as well; though she was close to deaths escape.
He had but two choices, save the woman and keep her for himself or ease her pain and bury her.
Declan didn’t want to act upon the voice.
It could be the grief… correct?
He’d been drinking, some.
In any case he wasn’t going to take the chance of crossing God’s will.
Declan finished praying and meandered his way to the pew where she sat hunched over and placed his hand on her shoulder.
He spoke quietly, she couldn’t really answer coherently but he understood that pain had taken over her sensibilities.
Declan removed his black suit coat, placed it over her shoulders and spirited out of the church.
She never questioned him as he opened his vehicles passenger door and ushered her in.
They drove for hours, he handed her tissue…
Declan stoked the old wood burning stove causing the flames to dance, warming the pair.
She may have been terrified about being alone with him or by his words of conviction but still she sat there stoically.
Would’ve made a great poker player he thought.
Finally she asked “What happens now?”
“You decide. Do you believe me?”
She nodded in affirmation. What choice did she have?
“We’ll marry after a day or two of remaining here. I’d like to share a bed with you tonight- if you’re ready.”
Certainly she was in no condition to argue with the muscular, blond haired, blue eyed man…yet she didn’t want to lie with him with no love between them either.
Obviously he felt no trepidation; exactly the opposite. This was his life beginning anew-
Why vacillate?
“Honey…it’s getting late. Time enough has passed for you to cry tears of sorrow.”
“I may never recover.”
“Understood, but better to die loved than to fly with the angels with no light beneath your wings.”
“Somehow I doubt that I’d be accepted.”
“I’ve accepted you as is… I ask nothing of you.”
She felt bewilderment. Who was this mysterious stranger to bring her to a remote cabin, tell her that God’s will was being enacted and that trust required was a necessity in order to fulfill Prevenient Grace?
Declan sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for her to enter the bedroom.
Many women had paraded themselves before him; he was certainly no stranger to the conquest, the passion. This was very different.
He had to procure this woman in every sense of the word.
With all of his skill he was suddenly left fearful of what would be appropriate and what would be deemed as going too far…
She walked in the room, allowing her hair to flow freely, her face recently washed gently with warm water.
Declan thought that her beauty derived from the simplicity that he somehow sensed was her.
An amusing oxymoron to realize that circumstantially they were in a complex situation…he attempted some easement of her sorrow by being humorous. She didn’t take to it well.
Declan grasped both of her hands in his, even standing she only reached his chest in height.
“I’m not sure Declan…what do you want from me?”
“I think the real question here is what do you want? I can’t rescue you if you don’t allow me too.”
“You don’t even know my name.”
His blue eyes became welled up with tears. He honestly didn’t care what her name was. Nothing was more important than making her his wife, loving her. Grace didn’t come along often. At his age he was keenly aware of missed opportunities.
This, he thought, would not be one of them.
His heart had fallen into a despair that he didn’t believe could find its way back to redemption…
“Tell me.”
“Ever.”
“Pardon?”
“It’s Ever. My parents were hippies, frankly I’m surprised that I don’t have a brother named for.”
He grinned broadly. He supposed that she was right.
“Ah, like owning a cat named Mandu?”
“Funny.” She couldn’t help but smile. He seemed nice enough… She stared into his eyes, something there held recognition for her…couldn’t place her memory to the feeling…his hands felt strong, he wreaked of security.
“Who are you Declan?”
His hands began nervously massaging hers…
“I own a business. I’ve done well over the years. My wife died years ago, my children are adults.”
“That isn’t what I asked you.”
“No, I suppose not. I’m to be your father, your husband. (he paused, deciding what to say because somehow he knew that this was going to become a stalemate if he didn’t pull her into the bed) Do you need me to make love to you or punish you?”
“Whaat?”
“You heard me. We’re adults. Your heart is telling you that I’ve been honest. I’m going to stay with you and that indeed, I will love you Ever.”
The name rolled off his tongue so naturally that it even surprised him as he spoke it aloud. Hearing his own words he could see the lunacy of the situation; the raw truth of a prayer being answered.
Ever blushed to crimson, embarrassed by the want that she could feel creeping up upon her body. He was incredibly attractive to her…
Could this really last?
Could Declan erase the immense pain that had torn her apart?
She whispered her reply “Both.”
Declan released her hands and motioned for her to lie across his lap.
She didn’t want to do it, yet felt compelled. Guilt forced her compliance, Ever thought by placing herself in harms way, albeit within the safety of the mans unspoken promise of eternal love that she’d be able to rid her psyche of regret/guilt.
Followed by making love Ever was sure to place them both onto the path of recovery.
A stranger will do that; provide easement where as a close friend or lover only stands as a reminder of past mistakes.
Ever laid across his lap. Suddenly she felt insecure with the realization of her skirts short length…
Declan had done this before, for pleasure, never for emotional release.
His strokes were rough, strong and sure.
She whimpered but didn’t make any attempt to stop his actions.
Finally, when he ceased and pulled her back upright, Ever let the relief effect her demeanor.
She openly went into his arms and began tugging at the remainder of his clothing.
Declan was pleased with her aggressiveness.
This would serve him as they progressed…
He made love to her, slowly, utilizing the skill he had acquired over the years. Ever seemingly melted into his strong embrace, finding the sexing much to her liking…the proper blend of dominance and seduction.
They awoke the next morning to the realization that they had crossed a line neither could come back from.
“Are you really going to marry me?”
“Yes Ever. We have a lot to do.”
“Tell me there’s no ark involved.”
Declan sneered “This is nothing to jest about. I was thinking more in the lines of driving into town and obtaining a marriage license.”
So it was really happening she thought.
Marrying a stranger that she felt knew her better than she knew herself.
He couldn’t believe his luck.
Prevenient Grace had rescued him from a meaningless life…
When asked, years later, why he had taken on such an endeavor
his reply was simple;
though their lives were anything but
“She’s every moment…there was a script written, I’d suppose many years ago. We merely followed it.”
The inevitable protest would come
Why would you marry someone that you knew nothing about?
How could you have known?
He knew, had always known.
Cloaking himself early on with the façade of a man tried and true
the heart of a boy had remained, though had been quietly left behind-until her sudden arrival
In this Declan had found redemption;
love lost had seeped seamlessly back into his life and much to his surprise had filled the void that for years had tortured his soul.
Ever had uttered not a word.
She allowed the force of nature that was him to cast her afloat.
Why trouble herself to explain what she held no answers for?
There were times when she’d question…storm through their home charging him with daily annoyances
wishing he’d just let her go
cease holding up to a higher standard
But what she wanted
what she needed
were one and the same
he had become every moment to her
Yearly Declan took her back to his place of youth;
family
give memory to their life of resolve;
to never take for granted this that they recognized as Prevenient Grace
From my hand to yours,
Sawyer
Saint Andrews
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
"Potestatem obscuri lateris nescis"
He left his father after quite the lengthy conversation. They didn’t share/partake in open forum often so this had caught him off guard.
Ethan sat back, easing his muscular body into the welcoming, familiar leather chair in his office. He inherently understood that he’d have to take the time required to realize the measured words most assuredly needed to approach her.
It had become appropriate to procure the woman;
the un released manuscripts, before any further documentation of their existence could be known by the general public.
For Ethan this fact was inconsequential, it was his inner thoughts being exposed causing him to feel apprehension. Complex, layered, his persona couldn’t have been further removed from those around him- yet here before him lie pages upon pages of script in regard…
Garrison held suspicion that she shared in the dreams that plagued the Dire.
Ethan knew better.
Nightmares ripped apart her every days’ close.
He had been watching her for quite some time;
tell tale signs of sleep deprivation wearily told their story in her amber eyes.
From binocular vantage Ethan took witness to the dawn ritual of dancing on the white linen bed, jumping onto the floor in an obvious attempt to seize the day in her own, unique way.
Caused him to smirk, thinking she’d be just the type to do this sort of thing even if made aware of his presence. Ethan imagined her skin soft to the touch- hair flaxen, eyes dancing when told of emotion…
Long an observant of the nature in all that was her, he felt confident that he would, with ease, ascertain Sawyer’s motivation.
If there were truth to the innate knowledge, she’d know him by sight;
sense an immediate connection…
recognize him by pheromones emitted…
Ethan promptly cancelled his afternoon meetings via his secretary and sought out to remove the distance between he and the writer
With great bravado and swagger Ethan possessed the room from the opening of the door, so large was his character;
persona
His smirk the only ‘tell’ to those who knew him intimately, (though there were few to speak of) visibly reminded to choose wisely, carefully and he’d, in return, offer discretion and privacy duality that Ethan vested as importantly as it was for one to draw breath.
Sawyer turned to see him leaning against one of the many heavy oak tables in the establishment
He was of interest to her;
there in resonated a stirred truth deep beneath the façade presented to the world at large. From first glance his age, attractiveness meant little to nothing.
Sawyer thought ‘here is a man who captures and knows his strength… adheres to his own set of standard.’.
She whispered hello, causing Ethan to lean down to her level if merely to hear the breathy salutation.
Sawyer cared not, if you wanted to listen then do so;
No? Than preferably leave the words left unheard.
It only mattered if you held its context in prize.
Ethan felt an unexpected emotional pull immediately, though he’d not readily admit such.
He hadn’t come here with the intent of seduction or the need to become entangled in a web of budding love.
This was only to be a ‘chance’ meeting in order to decide if Saint Andrews posed any type of threat to the Dire.
He afforded her the latitude of standing inappropriately far too close to his person as he began small talk
rapidly turning into deviant banter.
Ethan couldn’t maintain the control that he sought;
Sawyer had a mind of her own that was pressing him for answers unwilling to surface
Finally, he chose to address the true reason he had placed himself in her company (in reference to her novels) “When you penned the stories…how did you know?”
“Could you be more direct?”
“I’m the man that you’ve been writing about honey.”
Sawyer smiled, graciously. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t heard this line spoken all for the want of being acknowledged and desired….
“Feeling that way is a wonderful compliment, thank you. When my writing connects with the reader I’m well pleased.”
Ethan knowingly grinned. Rather then render a useless diatribe about novels etc, he took hold of her hand into his and leveled his gaze to hers.
“I’m able to prove it.”
Sawyer suddenly felt a wave of trepidation take hold of her senses. First of all, her novels revolved around the legend of the werewolf and that of the man spearheading the pack (so to speak) was a love lost to her
Though she felt her life needed no narrative, it most certainly required an open invitation to the man who could hold title to the head of the Dire.
Now standing before her
Strong hand strategically pressing against the small of her back
was the open broad defiance laying claim that he was indeed this man.
Sawyer sighed heavily “I’m listening but be warned; I’m easily bored.”
Ethan closed his light blue eyes for a brief moment, opening them only to reveal a dramatic alteration in color.
Better to show by example than weaken with words.
Ethan bowed his head placing his unshaven face precariously close to hers,
sharing breath
He extended his canines to a much surprised Sawyer “Kiss me honey…”
She shook her head no.
Ethan placed his left hand on her shoulder and began to tug at the grey tightly fit tee shirt that she was wearing in order to expose her lightly freckled shoulder.
Sawyer provided the latitude, curious as to what he would do next
She needn’t wait
He clamped down hard, deep into her flesh drinking the blood up and into his eager mouth
Biting his tongue as well and dropping just enough into the open wound for her to begin to feel the rush of a thousand life times and deaths course through her heart; blood stream
Ethan’s truth was now her realization.
He had driven his point directly home.
In a hoarse, low voice, he offered her this “Tell me love, believe me now?”
She stammered out in a barely audible whisper “I…I…I wrote this…how is it that you are…here? Now?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to procure you, the knowledge that you possess and anything else that sparks my interest.”
“I dreamt the novels…I am not the woman that you believe me to be.”
Sawyer began backing away, fearful, suddenly of what this man could do to her.
Ethan would have none of it.
Saint Andrews had written herself invasively into his life, his mind- by these deeds alone she’d have to succumb to Ethan’s will.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
This is an excerpt from one of the later novels…that moment when you’re faced with what you presumed to know as truth only to discover that fact and fiction are usually entwined in the most unexpected of ways….
I hope that your week was exceptional, finding you well and in high spirits…
From my hand to yours,
Sawyer
Saint Andrews
Sunday, January 15, 2012
"The King of the grand circle"
Darkness engulfs;
doesn't ease its way into your life
it enters with a simplicity that gently reminds;
vulnerability exists to the degree of latitude that is individually provided.
I owned the dusk.
There was something magical about the sky reaching down to the very tops of the trees to close the day that I found mesmerizing
My youth was spent running free...
The Stonehenge tree formation,
grown to gather near roaring fires
crowned me 'King of the grand circle'
Spectacular vision into the evening sky
where I held court
nightly
On the eve,
as we were walking slowly along, no agenda to be had
I turned, with sudden stroke of thought
took her hand into mine and led her out into the acreage
something churning
changing
aching for even more than I understood at the time
The vibrancy of the darkness wasn't lost on me
it fed
served a primal need not yet explored
though surely felt
with depth
its pressure building the closer the proximity between us
First with silent gestures, subtle...to guide;
urging her to follow...find her way through my perspective
It came to be that I dressed her...
serving the natural curves of her body
with material that pleasured my senses
bathed
fed
subsequently dominated with completeness
It stirred within her as well;
the longing awakened
I became father to her child
To overwhelm was to follow instinct
Midnight cloaked ulterior motives
I'd no sooner explain, preferring time to unfold;
reveal
She was brought to me by my father
this I heartily embraced as significant to fulfillment
no question as to purpose;
in my young mind
There came in the night
transition
I faced the obligatory need to procure capitulation in its purest form
my demeanor had been altered
permanently...
What I desired
I would posses.
I opened the door to my chambers,
ushered her in and away from the innocence of childhood
never a question of consent
she loved
adored
succumbed...
With winter came shorter days
and the loss of her
I waited years
seemed endless to me;
the trials
tribulation
unimaginable at times...
Couldn't fathom living without her
not any longer
after everything endured
She rushed back in;
questions abound regarding the darkness
memories that she couldn't escape
her life having spiraled;
as mine had done
I opened my arms in welcoming solace;
once again she took my hand and headed into the night
this time never to return to the mundane
normalcy simply not our path to follow
When the night came, as it must, we humbly re entered the world that we once called our own
I expressed my intent to reclaim what was my paternal birth rite...
with iron will if need be
She knew me as her one true light
came to me willingly
with the humility of a life lived aching for the father to her heart
first love...
I came to be her husband, she my beloved wife;
as it was always meant to be...
Vows taken
promise renewed...
"King of the grand circle" I reign over the dusk
keeping her heart vested with mine
shielding
father to her child...
From my hand to yours,
Sawyer
Saint Andrews
