S

Sacrilege! I sit upon that sagacious saddle of sanctimoniousness, sending salutations to savage sections of a segregated society, subsisting on the souls of supercilious and the stand-off-ish, the setto starters and the sacerdotal scientologists. My scimitar of sabotage slices through the sacrosanct superfluous pseudo-solemnity of the synagogue, that sanctuary to spiritual proselytization.

Words from Vocab book

I accredit your credence in his creed to credulity, not a creditable deification of deities, a pantheon of divine divinities. He is sacrilegiously an atheist theologian, leader of a theocracy that apotheosizes pantheism. Consecrate his execration of sacraments as sanctimoniousness, he sanctions this hierarchy of so-called sanctity.

Abstraction

Dare I bequeath myself to descend from my sanctum, proud and mighty on the hill surveying the mottled landscape, creatures of habit scurrying to and fro unchanged in their ways across millennia.

Self image

Social self-image is formed by one's opinion of the opinion of others.

I'd like to say it doesn't matter but that's not true.

Sticks and stones may break my bones but time doesn't heal all wounds.

I have an unfortunately powerful memory. I say unfortunate because I can remember every single time I've ever felt embarrassed since before I can remember really anything else. Every awkward moment, every time I've been wrong, every biting comment or criticism I allowed to slip between my defenses.

I relive these moments every time I feel self-conscious, and while I'd like to say they make me stronger they usually reinforce my insecurity.

Back to my original point, one's self image is like the reflection in a mirror. You can choose certain aspects of you image, even make changes, yet you are never fully in control of the image.

Just something I'm thinking about right now.

Limbo

I realized I'm in a limbo period in my life. Caught between two stages in almost every aspect. Skill and intelligence and whit and passion strain against the ties of age and ability. it totally bites.

Escape part 17

Birds can't talk, I reassure myself for the third time, glancing at the hawk perched on the telephone line outside my house. I refrain from peeking around for a leather clad femme-fatale hiding in the bushes.

Peyote!

say it fast, johnny cash, talk real slow, move your blowhole, dress in black, cadillac, fool em all, curtain draws!

Escape part 16

I glance back at the pier. The bird ruffles his feathers in a semblance of a wave, perched atop a pile of luggage She dips her head, mouths farewell. I wave back, pretending to bid adieu to New Orleans. So the line has truly blurred. Just something else I won't have to deal with for a week

Author's note: This may be the last Escape for a while. I wrote this at the beginning of my cruise, and things changed considerably since. Rest assured when I have more I will post it.

Wrote during christmas break

Arms tight against my chest

Bracing against the cold

Bitter frost

Reinforces

Loneliness

Damnit

Why can't I just be happy

Force it

Like everyone else

100th post

This blog has become, I'd like to think, more than just a trite "dear diary' collection of sob story posts from a lonely adolescent. I'm not writing to whine about my life, or seek approval for my humble creative works. When I began I sought merely to post some old poetry has turned into a medium to get perspective through writing, and take a good look at my life and how I'm living it. This collected body of short prose outlines my personality, and with it I have begun to define myself in a way I struggled to before. And recently while writing "Escape" I've had an outlet to gain relief from the loneliness and frustration that has plagued me over the past few months, and one that has given me purpose during the doldrums of so much time spent alone. So. Here we are, one hundred posts. Thank you for reading, those of you who still do among the seven with the url. Next stop two hundred.

Escape part 14

"You brought it here? Fools!" The bird squawked at us in disbelief as the scaly behemoth cantered into the dank cave. We ignored the chatter and unhooked the worn leather saddle, tossing it into a pile by the hawk. The beast snorted and rolled its now freed shoulders, a puff of smoke rising from its nostrils. "What's the matter? It was your plan that helped us free him" I joked to the now quivering pile of feathers pressed against the wall in fear.

Escape part 13

Braided rawhide tassels whistle past my cheek, curling with a earsplitting crack just over my shoulder. The whip retracts quickly, poising for a second strike. "You shouldn't have come here!" the blonde whip wielding handler admonishes. "They are dangerous and unpredictable you can't let them free!" I ignored her and back flipped out of range of the whip just before it sliced through the space I formerly occupied. All I had to do was keep her distracted long enough for Zasha to cut through the chains. She had better hurry.

A thunderous roar echoed through the small chamber the handler had chased me into. We froze, her face white with fear. "What have you done?" She shrieked, pausing long enough for me to dive past her and slam the heavy steel door.

Escape part 12

The plunging neckline of her blood red gown manages to leave little to the imagination and send it soaring with lustful fantasies as she mingles her way through the crowd with all the grace of a well-mannered diplomat. I can't help but watch her from the balcony above, smirking at the thought of the dagger hidden against her thigh. She seems cool and collected to the party goers, but I can tell from here she is scanning the security, confirming what I had already observed. The shifts had doubled.

Her impatient expression as I rounded the room with a tray laden with champagne did little to expedient the journey to her corner. "This isn't going to work with your avian friend's plan. Is there a plan B?" I grinned and gestured to the not quite ceremonial sword hanging at my belt. "I like plan B already."

More flow of consciousness

Smoking gun

Empty

Hurt

Cold

Alone

Confused

Disappointed

Disillusioned

Disarray

Pieces

Broken heart

Ache

Anger

Hardened

Inner shell

Cautious

Dare to hope

Afraid of

Rejection

Finality

Give hope

Take it away

So tired of this game

Escape part 11

The dim swinging lamp brought a faded map into relief, tangled scribbles outlining the aged ink. She leans across the table towards me, nimble hand pointing out a hidden escape route. Eyes meet, my breath catches at the ravishing depth of her gaze. The damned bird coughs from the corner, abruptly ending the moment all too soon. "Enough. The plan is flawless. You both know it by heart. We go tonight."

Barely an hour later, we stood back to back catching our breath surrounded by recently slain bodies in a slowly spreading pool of blood. "That was more guards than we predicted" I murmured between gasps for air. "What's the matter? Tired already?" I grinned and leaped backwards over her head. Tired indeed.

Rain

Cool rain

Refreshing

Invigorating

Bare skin

Lips

Wet

Shiver

Arm around you

Heartbeat

Warmth

Your cheek

Against mine

Fading

I hold you tighter

Disappear

Never there at all

Tears fall

Drowning

No will

Won't swim

No point

Don't care

Without

You my love

Escape part 10

The rambling estate identified by the note could hardly be called luxurious, though in a better state of repair the ragged mansion might more closely resemble a humble palace. I glanced back at the hawk, his expression as disbelieving as mine. "Surely she doesn't live in this dump. With her talents she could own the city." The bird shrugged, annoyingly nonchalant. Stepping up to the main gate we listened cautiously for sounds of life inside.

The door exploded outward without warning, nearly slicing me in half, followed quickly by a leather booted heel. Diving off the porch, a flash of feathers told me I would be alone in this fight.

This post has nothing to do with Christmas.

It's an amazing feat, managing to juggle interest in two girls at once while neither of them happens to return the affection. Perhaps I shouldn't say amazing. Confusing, depressing, self-depreciating, all seem to fit. At least I still have my Escape.

Escape part 9

In the relative safety of a shadowed alcove, I tear off the wrapping of the battle-won parcel. A simple note inside the package bearing only an address and a single name. The bird's disapproving hiss at the name gives me an uneasy feeling deep in my stomach. Zasha.

"No way. Not her" The words barely reach my ears, my mind is already made up as I step briskly into the rain. "She's too risky, too dangerous!" This time the bird's admonishing rings out with only the stormy sky as audience.

Escape part 8

The cool mortar against my back holds me steadfast against the blade at my throat, my eyes glaring return daggers at its owner. The brooding raven haired temptress standing before me eyes me with a mixture of annoyance and impatience. Despite the icy steel point pinning me to the wall I can't help but admire her equally icy beauty "Well?"

A loaded pause later we both burst into laughter as a ruffle of feathers announces the arrival of our mutual guide. "Are you two done with your games so we can get back to work?" A shared glance, the games have just begun this night.