(Improv Writing ~ 06/28/15)
There it was.
On the dock of a dreary harbour it sat, inlaid and sunken by time. As if to nest into the ocean with a retired sigh, my grandfather’s house stood.
Like a new coin in a wallet, sitting but a little brighter and shinier amongst stained and browning hunks of metal, so the house was. Less-weathered, less-battered, less desolate than the others, but only if one took the time to notice. The dark barn-red had faded ever slightly in colour. But otherwise it stood proud in an old forsaken place.
Perhaps she knew her own secret. And perhaps, with pride decided she should stand a little taller and for a little longer to fulfill whatever grand story she might still be part of. And of some happenstance I too was written in, having stumbled upon what was within the house long ago.
She stood in silence, and yet with such weight and totality.
I approached her.
… each one was a willed motion of desire, but each returned the advance of another beast. A shadow of a monster responding to my each step forward, began to engulf me, tingling first in my hands…
Rolling up the skin of my arms,
And sinking deep into the cracked crevices of elbows,
Wrapping all around my shoulders and neck,
Covering my chest and body until it swallowed all of me in a tingling anticipation, strong enough to numb. It spread like ink to a canvas, seeping deep with each thick roll forward and no lack of supply.
Forward, my legs took me, but my body was frozen unto itself, every pore of my body tightened as skin to a drum as if to keep the beast out. But the material foolishly draws bounds on the immaterial. And the monster of Fear, crosses over like ghost through wall.
I made my mind not an hour ago, and I could not undo that now. I must not. I could only go forward and leave all certainty on the soppy, wet grass outside. My feet stopped, the house now stood at arm’s length. My hands found the door, and pressing into it it gave way with ease, as if to welcome all who were daring enough to come. And I stepped into…