After recklessness savaged Nature to madness, my touch set the blood of men afire, brittled bone, devoured will. Screaming, I expected him to run from my want screaming.
My limbs were denied
the feel of his long fingers,
but he had a tongue—
his words knew how to be wild
magic, writing lust in me.
the wee notes…
– To read other installments, visit my Stories and Web Serials page. The tales are listed under Ink and Feels.
– This week’s interactive writing delight dances with names. Help me choose a name for our long-fingered gent. You can offer up to 3 names. In the next chapter, our protagonist will call (perhaps moan) the name that sings deepest to my muse.
– Written for Hedgewitch’s Friday 55. Linked to Poets United.
artwork by Shelle Kennedy