Sugar Free

“She tasted like chocolate and cherries,” the little boy said.  “But sugar free.  You know?”

I didn’t know.  I couldn’t even imagein what he was talking about.

Even as I looked down, over the side of the bridge, into the leafy gorge below, I could feel his eyes on me, large and blue and innocent in their childishness.  I barely contained the shudder that thretened to shake my body at the feel of them.

She was almost invisible down there.  I could see the hem of her yellow dress, its red flowers.  I could see one perfect knee, creamy and soft, bent at an unperfect angle.

The dress hadn’t had red flowers before.  Those were new, since the push.

Her scream had lasted longer than the distance between the top of the bridge and the bottom of the gorge.

“I don’t like sugar free,” the little boy said.  He reached out and took my hand in his.  It was cold, and hot, and unnatural in every way.  I wanted to snatch my hand out of his.  I wanted to run away screaming, but I couldn’t.

“You taste like ice cream,” he said.  “The good kind, with nuts in it. And marshmallows.”

I looked down at him as he smiled up at me.  He had a gap in his front teeth.  That was new.

So sweet.  So precious.

“Never go sugar free on me,” he said.

He tugged my hand, and started walking.  Holding his little hand, I followed.

Inspired By Bridge
Image Credit: Pixabay

Candle Magic

She loved him, dearly so.

Because she loved him she burned him in pink.  His name etched into the candle with a the thorn of a rose.  A bit of his hair tossed into the flame.

He looked at her once, but no more.  He didn’t say her name.

She loved him, dearly so.

Because she loved him she burned him in red.  His name etched into the candle with a rooster’s claw.  A bt of his blood, taken from the barbers blade, dripped into the flame.

He looked at her twice, the second time with desire.  In the dark he said her name, again and again.  In the morning he was gone.

She loved him, dearly so.

Because she loved him she burned for them in green.  Their names etched together with the nail of her small finger, their fluids offered together to the flame.

Inside of her something quickened.

She loved him, dearly so.

Because she loved him, while entertwined as one, she whispered to him the truth.  How she burned for him first in pink, then in red.  How she burned for them together in green, and precious gift of life created there from.

She loved him, dearly so.

Because she loved him he raged and spat upon her, calling her a witch, a trickster, and denying the fruit of the seed he had planted.

Now, heavy with child, she watched him with his betrothed.

She loved him, dearly so.

Because she loved him she burned for him in black.  His name etched into the wax with a rattlesnakes fang, graveyard dirt added to the hungry flame.

If he woudn’t be hers, he would not belong to anyone.

She loved him, dearly so.

Inspired by : CandleImage Credit: Pixabay