Here's a story that my friend Malcolm wrote. I loved it so much,so now it's on my site.


One, ...two, ...three...I grasp your hand.
We stare into each other's eyes.
Judgement no longer means anything.
One tear rolls down your cheek and I smile warmly with my head to the side.

Our hearts stop, the leaves and twigs break in the distance.

Footsteps.
Footsteps.
Footsteps.

We run.

The trees move...they move with our mood... They sway under the night...

We run.

Gusts of wind blow...leaves caress our faces...
Running faster...we can see the faces in the trees...

Footsteps...
Footsteps...
Quiet.

Stopping, we embrace, and the light in the distance of the night warms our skin.

Ah, the smell of honeysuckle.
To get to the passionate flowers,
We must brace the thorns.
Brace the thorns...the thorns...


Footsteps...
Charging...
More like...doomsteps...

Wanting to torture,
Hurt,
Damage,

Cry.

We run...the light no longer there....cold black... The footsteps feed on the light...

Haunt me.

Wind whips us off our feet...

We're levitated in the air.

You scream. I hold you, protecting you...fearful myself...

I must be strong ...for you.

High above the doomsteps...and the tree faces... We fly. Watch as we soar...

The night sky...the stars sing to you...
Swans float across the sky, as if it's water.

Celestial horses prance in front of us...leaving trails of stardust...

And the warmth of your hand in mine.

It soothes me.
Protects me.
Haunts me.



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