Tuesday, June 28, 2011

The D Chronicles Extras - (Men): The Dead

The Dead

The dead of night. It’s always happens in the night.

“Baby, I love you come back to bed.” She says.
The soft voice whispers and speaks the truth.
And it’s the last truth that echoes before he’s awake.

The same conundrum wakes Classer Andresen from a dead sleep. Night after night, different places, different women and the same thing happens for Classer Andresen. The whisper precedes a memory. Not the last moment, but one all entirely different.

A random instance where she was there in his arms. In the dark of the Study standing next to the window and he was wrapped around her. His mind is surrounded by the smell of the room intensified by the sensation of his touch he lets his mind wander with the thought. Imagining the smell of the dusty room filled with old books could still make him jump hard with a hunger for her.

Stiff, hungry and hung over when he jars himself free from the waking dream, Classer can’t quite shake the sensation of the moment. Looking over, he visually makes out a long pair of legs attached to a thin brunette.  The small dimple of her back feels just like the one in his memory. But it’s not. As he moves his eyes up from bottom to top he can see the signs of his night. Two wrappers trail the edge of the sheets before giving way to a third. At least his efforts were protected even if he can’t seem to remember them. The perfection of the thin body next to him lifts and lowers with small shallow breathes. With the dark hair covering her face she might be the mirror image of Inara. Soft corners of her lips peeking out from the curly mess of long brown locks could fool him the same way the others fooled him every night.

This one, her name was Rachel. She told him that was her name, but it might be something else. He distinctly remembers a Heather or a Michelle. These women seem to be all the same when there’s one after another night after night. And the one thing they seem to have in common is that they can never be her.

The women like the memories couldn’t bring Inara back into his life. She was still gone, a dead memory because he was foolish enough to let her go. Foolish enough to send her away. And much like a dead woman, thinking about her that wouldn’t change a thing or bring her back to  him. Yet his mind wanders from the simplest stimulation. Looking at the book on the nightstand is intoxicating to his mind and sends his thoughts back into the past looking for her.

The air around them was stagnating in the dark Study. Dusty from the smell of old volumes of truth. Although her lips kept begging him back to bed, her hands were making different plans altogether. Down around his back she cups his ass and pulls him close. Without a thought he reaches beneath her robe and lets his hand move up and inside her thighs. Soft, warm and welcoming she kisses him when touches her.

Snapping back to present he’s ready for more. But to wake the creature next to him would only shake the moment from before. So he quietly runs his fingers across the skin of her thighs before getting up from the bed. It’s all he can do to avoid waking his anonymous companion as he gently shuts the bathroom door. Awake means questions and questions require answers. Answers are something that Classer really doesn’t want to supply at 3am for a woman he’s known less than six hours.

In the bathroom there’s wrappers four and five making an appearance. At least there is comfort in knowing that he safely could handle his alcohol and anonymous bedfellows. But this night wasn’t like any other and Classer knew it.

Tonight much like the dead didn't like to rest, the memories kept coming back to him haunt. The cool drip of the faucet sets his mind wandering backwards toward the same sound of water gently tapping at the window in the moment that cannot become again.

Kicking the back of his legs she let his movements climb as rise. The sound of her breath and moans greet the pulse of his hips and the touch of his hands. Slowly the sounds between them come to an end. Inara kisses the soft part of his bottom lip before taking in the whole of his mouth.

It’s there the memory always fades.

Still staring at the floor and standing next to the sink Classer can’t gather himself quickly enough. His face in the mirror seems the same and very different. There are a thousand reasons to go out there and pick up where he left off with the thin brunette named Rachel or Heather or Michelle and only one to pick up and leave…

She wasn’t her.

And none of them ever would be. None of the living could replace the dead memory of her. And none of these women could ever replace her ghost that haunted his memory. Sometimes she was there in a sound or a breath, but her pure essence could never be captured in a night of mindless pleasure. But for a moment or two he could bring back the ghost of her with a thought. And although it was the purest form of intoxication for his mind, Classer knew he couldn’t live in those memories. That’s all they were.

Baby, come to bed,” She calls.
In a small voice he can hear the woman call to him.
And it’s the only truth that he can face when he looks in the mirror before turning out the light and going back into the room.

The Dead. One of the lost “D’s.” There was about a handful of lost ones. Lost men? Isn’t that thought worth a dime at least? Anyway, I thought about keeping them back but I’m scrambling once again to pull triple duty if not quadruple duty to throw down some new for y’all. Memories are fun aren’t they? The moment you can’t lose because it’s there in your head. Ah but you can’t live in them. You just can’t. And the imaginary? No, I’m afraid it’s also fun on occasion but you can’t live there either. I’ll take the brilliance of what is right in front of me. Cause you can sleep your life away or you can live… And I mean really live. None of this half-ass, holding back shit. LIVE! LOVE! BREATH! …and only dance if you want to.

Ah, a little more since it’s been a while without a little fabulous advice…

Assumptions are a bit contagious like those memories people like so very much. People like to conjure them and live within them. It’s a narrow-minded way to live. It’s only when we’ve had enough of people’s making them that we stand up for ourselves. No one gets to bully you. No one dictates that you fight fire with fire, but never let anyone back you into a corner. In life or death no one deserves to be mistreated because someone has a warped perception of things. Honey’s you are no one’s kicking posts. I say this with love and respect instead of criticism: Stand up for yourselves and your loved ones.  

And I’ll say this in defense all people but mostly creative types… If you want to know someone you can take a look at their work. There are pieces of them in it, but ultimately it isn’t them. If you want “deep” inside a person’s head then you have to get to know them. Otherwise you’re just making guesses in the dark about what you think they are and what they are doing. But that’s hitting the nail on the head isn’t it? That’s what assumptions tell us: We aren’t who we are… We are what others see us as.

And that is one of the saddest ways I can think of for anyone to live; judging others as anything other than them. Don’t’ worry about those people though… Continue to be yourself and no one else. Let no one put you into a box and label you.

I think of a brilliant artist, who some label as a criminal. It never crosses my mind that there is a man breaking the law to create, never because he creates masterpieces. I think of his brilliance before I think back to the Nazi’s and how they saw the Jews. That isn’t a very fair comparison, but to get the point across sometimes you have throw out the idea of “fair.” Because it isn’t fair to judge someone before they’ve done anything. When we do this we are back to that “Quick! Shoot it and kill it first! Mentality” and that will not do in any world.  Movies, music, books, art... Ultimately the world around you is never the enemy. But your mind can be. You can truly be your own worst enemy. If all you want to see is negative than that is all you’ll ever see. That fear is how wars are started. By continuing to drag the same accusation out over and over again they lose sight out how to change the world, including their own world, instead opting for battle. Sadly in the end it will not make the outcome any truer or falser.   

Live with each other, love each other, and breathe among each other without reservation. Enjoy it all. kisses. m.

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