Friday, September 30, 2011

From The Ashes

This is a small flavor of the next novel I plan to work on titled, FROM THE ASHES. (I don't think it's going to be an actual insert in the book, but it's a glimpse of what I'd like to work on)



            “Doctor, I think I have a problem.”          
Dr. Rosenbaum takes my statement in stride, waving an elegant hand towards her fainting chair. I raise a brow at the lounge. How apropos for a shrink to have a fainting chair.
Dr. Rosenbaum closes the door behind me and I settle my purse beside the chair before sitting down, my shoulders stiff against the seat back.
“Clara, tell me,” Dr. Rosenbaum starts. “What is this problem you think you have?”  She sits in a chair across from me, her notepad lying across her lap. Her long cardigan opens to reveal a sharp blouse and a knee-length pencil skirt; her inquisitive eyes framed by rimless glasses.
I clear my throat. “I think I’m too obsessive.”
There’s a long silence before she says, “Go on.”
At the command, the words rush out all at once. “There’s a guy—tall, handsome, quiet. He’s…well, he’s young.”
One perfectly trimmed brow rises. “And I presume you’re attracted?”                 
“Very…” I say in a quiet whisper.
Her pencil scribbles across her notepad. “Please continue.”
My palms scrape across my jeans, aware of the clamminess; embarrassment and shame filling me.
“Clara, why don’t you get more comfortable. It will help you gather your thoughts more clearly and completely.”
I nod, not really hearing her, but complying anyway. I lay down. The fainting chair is comfortable. The muscles along my neck and shoulders seem to loosen.
“I met him a week ago,” I say. “He’s a student of one of my friends—a professor at the University of—”
“You don’t have to be too specific if you don’t want to,” Dr. Rosenbaum inserts.
I nod, happy to be released from giving explicit details. “Anyway, my friend introduces me. The kid is young, maybe six years younger. But god he’s gorgeous—exotic really. Clearly the quiet, brooding type. The kind of guy a girl would give everything to and get nothing but neglect from.” I small chuckle escapes me.
“Why do you think you’re attracted? Obsessed—as you say—if you believe he’ll hurt you?”
“God, I don’t even know. My hormones lately—off the charts.”
“Crushes aren’t bad, Clara. They’re healthy. Your body’s urges are natural.”
Natural—yeah sure. Can’t get the kid out of my head—not natural at all.
“So listen,” I say, desperation creeping into my voice. “Tell me to lay off. Tell me he’s going to be nothing but another disappointment—another heartache. And that maybe it'll drive me crazy, crazy enough to want to hurt him back.” 
“Clara, that’s not what I’m here for. And you don’t know that he’ll hurt you.”
I turn to look at her. “I DO know. He won’t know how to treat me. He won’t know…that I’m different.”
Dr. Rosenbaum sighs. “And why do you think you’re different? You can’t live your life afraid all the time. It’s okay to take risks. Rejection is as much a part of life as is victory and acceptance. We’ve gone over this before.”
I absorb this for a second. “Thanks, Dr. Rosenbaum.”

My knuckles rap lightly against the door and I brush my hair back for the hundredth time.
“Yeah?” asks a voice from the other side.
“It’s Clara. Can I come in?”
The door unlocks, opening to frame the tall figure that’s been haunting my dreams for the past several days.
“Hey,” he says, lips smiling uncertainly.
“Hey,” I say back. “Busy?”
His face remains stoic. The door opens wider. “Come in.”
I smile with relief, walking in and taking in the dorm-style room. The door shuts and I swivel to face him. 
Those mesmerizing eyes look down at me. “What’s up?”
The room suddenly feels hot, small and claustrophobic. I can tell he’s nervous too, but I can’t back out now. I need to get him out of my system. Just one night.
“I’ve been thinking of you,” I say quietly. Oh god, I should leave now. Let him go. Forget him. 
He swallows, eyes shifting away from me. 
A brazenness that feels too good overwhelms me, and I walk up to him. The temptation too strong to fight. 
“Clara,” he says, his voice hoarse.
But Clara is gone, replaced instead by the obsession. “Shhh…” I close the distance between us, the hunger filling me, stemming from somewhere deep.
Indecision crosses his face, but something in him changes. His chest rises. And then he steps into me, taking me into his arms before capturing me in his mouth.
I hadn’t expected this. I pull away. “You shouldn’t have done that,” I say between ragged breaths. I’ve crossed the line now and can no longer turn back. 
The change begins, starting in my chest, tensing every muscle in my body. “Because, my lovely boy, you’ve released something terrible.”
“What?” He frowns. He sees it now. My eyes, I know, have gone from blue to ink-black.
The fear molds his perfect face, reflecting back in his exotic, almond-shaped eyes. 
The obsession overtakes me, swallows me whole; fills me deep until I’m drunk with it. And the vortex opens, devouring his beauty—his essence. I take his stunned form into my arms, gripping him with the strength of a god; stripping him bare as the obsession captures him. “You’re all mine,” the being within me says, inhaling his soul until nothing is left...but ashes. 

No comments:

Post a Comment

I love comments! Shoot me a message below!