Running Dog/Waters (writing bit)

[summer_jackel]

I know that some of you may still be hoping that I start writing again. Which I will, I just don't know how and when. The two almost-finished short stories on my desktop keep staring at me so, and I can't help but thinking that their time will come soon.

This isn't either of them. But I did write this little ficbit the other night. It almost has a plot to go with it, but my protagonist is still a bit fuzzy around the edges.

(that probably means she's a werewolf).

This is sorta romantic because almost everything I write involves tragic love, yes?



The women I love are waters, vastly differing, but waters still.

The first is rain, gentle drops of fresh water, skyborn, coming down the mountainside in clear snowmelt freshets, sweet and clean. She is broadening streams, deepening to rivers vast and slow, frothing and rapid: life-giving, nourishing, drowning places.

She is water ever in motion, shaping the faces of the land with fine rich clay and polished stones, reshaping, changing, destroying, creating. May I lay my face in you, my body, the cool clear freshness of you sustaining and chilling and battering me, forcing me always into presence and motion. Still and deep, killing rapids, ever changing, ever essentially yourself, you move me, beloved, and there is no holding you.

The other is the ocean, deep and vast and unforgiving. Translucent at the surface, full of light and shifting movement: and all of that a playful veneer. She is an ocean that hides still layers, the light gone from them so soon, obscuring rich coldness, soft and benthic depths and the great, odd things that dwell below. A vastness to reach polar coldness and equatorial heat. A froth of life, a harsh salt desert, an place of ungentle and grudging beginnings: still a richness of life, my deep one, my cold one.

My dwelling place is estuarine, dear ones, the waters between you. Loving the freshness, called again to suffering by the taste of salt like blood in my mouth. An anadromous thing, nourished in the cold salt, coming home to sweetness to die. A stone cracked from its remote source, brought down and carved ever smoother by that gentle, inexorable, unforgiving power, smoother and smoother until it is done down to its particulate elements, returned at last to its source to be remade again.

Comments

[kynekh-amagire.livejournal.com]

That's really very lovely.

[summer-jackel.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

[camelai.livejournal.com]

Wow, beautiful!

[summer-jackel.livejournal.com]

Thanks. :D

[camelai.livejournal.com]

When do we get to read more of your writing? ;)

[summer-jackel.livejournal.com]

well, that depends. Do you like fanfic? I have more than I care to admit sometimes available online in various places, most of it X-men or Gargoyles. I have a fair amount of original stuff too, but you have to ask me.

[camelai.livejournal.com]

I generally don't read fanfic, mostly because there's so much *bad* stuff I don't feel like sifting through. I'd love to read yours! The original stuff, too, if you don't mind. :)

[summer-jackel.livejournal.com]

ok!
email me with your email address (I am summer.jackel@gmail.com) and I will send you stuff. :D

[baxil.livejournal.com]

Thirded on the loveliness. It's a great metaphor.

[summer-jackel.livejournal.com]

Thank you. It was cathartic to write.