Shawl
Everybody has a great shawl story. Tell us yours.
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She chuckled to herself as he leaped from the chair and stared at her ...
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INKsters is a competitive writers' group founded by ItsNaughtKnotty Cannned (aka INK) within the 3D virtual world of Second Life. We host daily writing contests for members to participate in for a chance to win a L$ prize.
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1 comment:
Shawl by Wolfgang Glinka
You can think of me as a Princess if you want. It doesn't matter but it might help. The daughter of an ancient Greek king..say Creon. Call me Glauce but I'm not her and now is now and she was then.
It's the same old story though.
Call him Jason. The ancient hero who won the Golden Fleece. He too isn't Jason and, maybe , not that much of a hero but it'll do.
He loves me for my innocence, my baby blue eyes, my virgin's body.
I remind him of the good times, he says. Before things got tough, messed up.
Before he met her.
Imagine her as Medea....beautiful, all demanding, sexual dynamite and vengeful.
She too is not like that really. Not magnificent so much as a pain in the butt.
I told you it was an old old story.
He met me at the well, in the pub or whatever. I refreshed him, soothed him...showed him how sex could be wholesome again.
He loved me of course. Well they always do. Say they do, if they have to or if they want another go before lights out.
That was until she came back.
I'm over her, honestly. So he said. There are just some issues - that's all. Things I need to sort out.
I had sorted it out for him or so he said but this was difficult.
He meant too complex for my innocence.
Lets not forget that I am the innocent here. The virgin bride with adoring eyes under fluttering eyelashes.
My eyes may be baby blue but the sure ain't blind man.
I know that look. That shift on the balls of the feet, the eyes looking away to somewhere out of our space.
That's when I fall. That's where he's right. I am an innocent like so many others of us. Taken in everytime.
Medea made a dress, lets call it a shawl. Designed just for me. How kind!
Glistening with all her skills, her magic, her poison, it is meant to seduce me.
It does.
Look at it. Green, shining with an elfan beauty and utterly deadly.
It will be soft, comforting and I can pull it round me, shelter within it and feel it do its worst.
No more the innocent. No more the virgin. That old story always end the same way.
I'll put it on and let it cover my eyes, cover my love, smother my pain.
Wolfgang Glinka
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