A sneak peek of a work in progress...This is the first draft...just filling the sandbox...
Declan O'Bran
May 4, 1912
I find myself once more at a beginning. The beginning of
this writing...the beginning of a new... life? Or what may pass at this moment
for life.
My name is Declan O'Bryan and although I am writing this, I
am no longer of the living.
The events and memories are foggy and disorganized to me
now. I was a traveler, just passing through Salem on my way home to Boston,
stopping at the tavern for a drink to take the chill off my bones and find
lodgings for the night. I remember this much at least..this much and the woman.
I arrived in Boston only two days ago. Is that possible? Is
it possible that only two days have passed since I first walked the narrow
streets of the North End? I can say it has been two days but in reality I no
longer have any sense of time or urgency that I am aware of the hour. Except
for the day's dawning. Of that, I remain keenly aware. I can sense the
approaching sunlight beneath my skin, a hot, slithering bile that crawls its
way just below the surface, lightly shimmering the blood within my veins. The
weather in early Spring is still chilly enough to require a cloak but the
chills that devour me have nothing to do with the temperature this morning.
To say she was beautiful would not do her justice. A long
dark mane surrounded her heart shape face, a sharp widow's peak pierced her
forehead like an arrow. Ebony eyes melded into her copper complexion, shades of
mocha and black swirled together in an exotic blend.
I seemed unable to resist her although I am not one to
indulge in pleasures of the flesh casually, yet when she took my hand into
hers, I followed her to her room above the tavern without question or second
thought.
I felt nearly as if I had simply fallen asleep and was
wrapped inside the dizziness and desire of a sensuous dream. I could not move
and yet I was able to follow her; I could not speak but yet I groaned
outwardly. The overwhelming scent of a million spices filled her room and
danced on her skin like sweet honey, making my head reel as it became more
difficult for me to breathe with each passing second I was in her presence.
She closed and locked the door behind us and began to
undress slowly, whispering to me in a language I could not understand but could
only grasp the meaning as she smiled. In a moment she stood naked before me,
proud, exquisite, long supple legs, full breasts, taunt ripe belly, her dark
hair draped around her narrow waist in a sea of thick black waves.
I had never seen such a exquisite woman, nor never have I
tasted such exotic flesh. and when she pulled me to her, I drowned within the
agony of her embrace.
I awoke in a strange barn sometime later and she was gone. I
was dressed again but could not recall how I had gotten there nor could I
remember what had transpired. My body ached with fever and my throat burned
with thirst. My stomach clenched as waves of agonizing spasms washed over me,
leaving me curled tightly on the dirt floor. I trembled in the chill of the
barn yet I could not find the energy to get up to venture to someplace warmer.
I knew I was dying even when I knew nothing else and seemed
unable to help my situation.
Ashley Donaghue
July 1, 2013
How do I start this? How do I begin? Dear Diary? To Whom it
May Concern?
And what shall I call you? Diary? Journal? My Inner Sanctum?
My Subconscious?
I will write because I was told it would help, not because I
particularly want to. I do want to feel better however, anything is better than
where I am at at the moment.
And where am I exactly? Three months after a very public
emotional break down and what the professionals perceived as a suicide attempt.
Perceived is the key word here..
I could fail I suppose, return to that dark place that
exists inside everyone of us yet no one ever wants to talk about. You know all
about that place, don't you? When someone you love and count on is taken from
you on an icy road on a cold April morning when all he wanted to do was
surprise you with your favorite coffee from Starbucks when you woke up, that
dark place is the only place left to go.
I'm strong, stronger than most but this one time I didn't
want to be. I wanted silence and to disappear for awhile. I took too many
sleeping pills and had too much wine that night but I didn't want to die. They
got that part wrong but nobody seemed to care. No one but me.
