Thursday: Writing

I have been absent, yes. Many new things to tell you, but not right now. Don't worry, everything's all right.

Upon noticing a particularly sparkling clearing in the forest, I dismounted my bicycle and guided her toward it.

Encircled by a crowd of preciously rendered woodland creatures, he lay in an open glass coffin with his hands crossed over his chest. The full lips were pursed in some vague expression suspended somewhere between a frown and a smirk. His dark lashes sealed his eyes closed. As I approached the coffin, I noticed his hands clutched an issue of Harper's. I rolled my eyes.

As he was in life he was in death - that pretentious little creep.

The forest animals seemed to be quietly mourning and remained undisturbed at my presence among them. I leaned the bicycle against the coffin and looked over to cast some final thought upon his body.

That's when a baby rabbit tugged at my jeans.

"Are you Prince Charming?" he asked.

Charming? Yes. A prince? Given the right circumstances, sure.

"I might be," I said.

"He is under a spell which can be broken with a kiss of true love, won't you wake him?"

I looked back to his body, now with a shaft of syrupy sunlight falling on it, the coffin's gold details glittering. At peace, I was reminded of his beauty, of the pleasure I used to take in watching him sleep pressed against my body, those moments when he felt small and I felt so big. I'd watch his face, his lips parted around his steady sleep-breath, and wonder about the dreams chasing each other through his head. I would hope that he was dreaming of me though I knew it wasn't possible. I sighed and suddenly felt tired. It had been so long ago.

If I woke him, would he fall in love with the first person he saw? Could he fall in love with me all over again, refreshed, revitalized, renewed, called back from the dead? Would he be the same person? Was I the same person?

I reached out to stroke the dark hair, as lush and thick as I remembered it. The gesture released his scent, and my heart ached at the memories that flooded my mind. I traced my fingers along his cheek, his skin was as smooth as ever.

He would owe me his life and for that he would love me, right?

I leaned in, but just as I was about to brush my lips against his, I stopped.

"No, I'm not his Princess Charming, this is not my fairytale ending."

"But don't you want to live happily ever after?" the rabbit asked.

"We will live happily ever after in our own stories. You'll understand when you're older."

I gathered up my bicycle and retreated back into the forest, leaving the cleaning and the glass coffin far far behind me.

Writing August 20/21 2009