Droplets from the Inkwell

The trees and other scenery whizzed past her as she continued to pump her legs, working the pedals of her bike despite her muscles’ protests. The road began an ascent fifty feet ahead and she readied herself to shift gears, keeping her momentum. She barely noticed the noise the chain made as it shuffled along the gears, propelling her forward. Nor did she pay attention to any of the other cyclists around her. Her whole world focused on a single thought: Keep pedaling, we’re not done yet.

I ran my hand over his flexed bicep, feeling the firmness and shape of the muscle. I whistled in appreciation. He clearly worked out a lot.

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I placed my hands on opposite sides of the gigantic stump. I ran my thumbs along the top, feeling the bumps of the tree's rings.

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I pressed the tip against the parchment and scraped it along the surface. Black ink trailed, forming thin and broad strokes as I wrote.

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He held me in his arms as I sat in bed eating the soup he had made for me. I sniffled and he reached over to the night stand for a tissue.

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I ran my hand along his cheek, feeling the day-old stubble scratch my skin. He tenderly kissed my palm as moved over his lips. I smiled.

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The mountain loomed above him, its snow-capped peak glistening in challenge. He adjusted the straps on his backpack and began to climb.

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Her hand flitted across the page, pressing the charcoal against it and adding a new mark here. She smiled as the image began to take form.

I stood there shivering in the dark. The damp chill of the air clung to my bare arms and legs. I tried to see beyond my blindfold, but it was no use. Similarly, my attempts to find any slack in the loops of rope that bound my hands together behind my back were futile. I sighed and resigned myself to whatever fate my captors had in store for me.

After a few moments, I familiar voice broke the silence in strident tones. “Hear me now, pledges of Sigma Rho Tau....”

I looked out the window. The wind blew across the hillside, picking up snow and scattering it, as if it was still falling from the clouds.

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I sat in rapt attention as the soloist sang. A single tear rolled down my cheek as her voice skillfully intoned the haunting lyrics.

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I turned the small piece of wood in my hand, shaving away small fragments from it here and there. It began to take the shape I wanted.

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I stared at his facial features, and considered how handsome and ageless they were. He was offering me that same beauty, to possess forever.

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We sat on the couch watching the movie. He leaned forward, snagged a slice of cheese pizza from the box, and held it out as I took a bite.

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I walked through the dewy grass and the dampness felt cool against my bare feet. Every now and then, I'd squat to break off another flower.

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I lay on my side next to him, studying his sleeping face. I could hear his breath escape through his slightly parted lips, which were thin.

I ran my hands through the hot white sand of the beach. I picked up a handful and let it slip back through my fingers a few grins at a time.

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I stepped into the dark chamber and blinked, waiting for my eyes to adjust. I could smell the dampness in the air and hear a steady drip.

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I reached over and ran my fingers through his short black hair. He blushed and pulled away a bit. I dropped my hand. We both smiled.

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I sat at my desk writing. I stirred as I sensed Chris walk up and stand behind me. He placed a hand on my shoulder and gently squeezed.

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I stood there looking out over the canyon. Below me the trees' autumn leaves created a patchwork of reds and golds. I was breathless.

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We stood facing each other. I eyed her suspiciosly, my mind flooded with past lies and insults. Her expression was rigid.

I walked silently beside the general as he surveyed the wounded soldiers. I kept my focus on the clipboard I was carrying, trying to block out the images of bloody wounds, and gaping wounds. I tried to breathe sparingly to save my nostrils the smell of blood, gunpowder, and antiseptic that mixed and mingled in the air. The general would pause beside a soldier every now and then, asking them questions and showing concern for their health. Health! That word seemed like a joke at the moment. Some soldiers would answer him and seem somewhat lucid, if not pained. In those cases, I would jot down anything they said, as the general had instructed me to do on our way to the facility. Others would simply continue to moan. In either case, the general would nod, squeeze their shoulder -- assuming either shoulder was both present and undamaged -- and move on with his inspection. Occasionally, I’d hear a brief shriek from the other end of the encampment, where the doctors were doing their job.

So to all my friends who are participating in NaNo, I say good luck. I look forward to hearing about your progress and will gladly celebrate your success at the end of the month. But as for me, my path is different. And I'm finally getting to the point where I'm okay with that.

I opened the bathroom door after my shower and immediately smelled garlic. I breathed the aroma in deeply as I made my way to the kitchen. Kevin was standing in front of the stove in his adorable pink plaid apron. He was holding a small dish of chopped onions and was about to dump its contents into the sauce pan in front him. I came up behind him and slipped my arms around his waist. He turned his head just enough to smile at me before upturning the container. The smell of the onions joined that of the garlic as they too began to sauté. I glanced at the counter to take stock of his prepared ingredients. I surmised he was making our favorite marinara sauce. I nuzzled his neck with my nose and continued to watch him work.

I parked my car in one of the visitor spots and turned off the engine. As I approached Jacob’s townhouse, he stepped out the front door and closed it behind himself. We met each other on the sidewalk and we exchanged a brief kiss. I stepped back a foot or two, running my hand along his arm before dropping it to my side. “How was your day?”

“Good. I took the afternoon off, so it was quite nice. It gave me time to get ready for our date tonight.”

I gave him a quizzical look. “That’s a lot of time for a shower and shave.”

“Yes, it is,” he said, grinning impishly. He took my hand and started leading me back toward his home.

I grew more confused. “Aren’t we going to dinner?”

“I have a surprise I want to show you first.” He stopped as we reached the bottom stair of his front stoop. He guided me to stand in front of him then placed his hands over my eyes, blocking my vision.

“Jacob? What are you doing?”

“You’ll see. There are three steps up, remember? Let’s go.”

I sighed. In the three weeks that we had been dating, I had learned it was easier to humor him when he was feeling impish. I began to step forward, and he kept close behind me, making sure my eyes remained covered. I carefully dragged my foot along the front of each step, then stepped up onto it. As I reached the top, I heard classical music -- I suspected it was Mozart -- playing faintly. As we entered the house, I got a sense of less light slipping through the spaces between his fingers.

“Just a few more steps forward,” he said. I obliged and heard him use his foot to swing the door shut behind us. He dropped his hands and I looked around, blinking.

The only light in the whole house came from about a dozen flames, most of them coming from tea-lights carefully placed on various surfaces throughout his living room. He pointed and I turned my eyes in the direction of his gaze. A small circular coffee table sat just in front of his couch, with two cushions on opposite sides. A square tablecloth covered most of the table’s surface. In the center stood a single red column candle. A plate, wine glass and silverware had been set in front of each cushion.

“This is amazing,” I said.

“Hopefully, you feel the same way about my chicken cordon blue,” he said, as he stepped next to me and took my hand. “I wanted to do something special for you today.”

He sat on the couch and spread his legs. I sat between them and he placed his hands on my shoulders and began to squeeze them. I allowed my head to drop forward and he began to knead the muscles along my neck and collarbone. I breathed deeply as the knots and pockets of tension began to disappoint under his calloused and skillful hands.

I moaned as he worked his way from my neck and shoulders down along my spine, pressing against each vertebra and the tissue surrounding it. As he continued to work on my back, he leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. I turned my head so I could meet his lips with my own and we exchanged a tender kiss.