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8 entries this month
Manitou-5-
00:23 Jun 27 2006
Times Read: 670
From the days of when The White Buffalo Woman had made her visit, had elders ever told of such. High plains grass whipped at his bare legs as he ran toward the rising sun. He jumped to gather up the heavens in his arms. Night yielded to day as his vision cleared. Four small peaks at the edge of the horizon wavered in his sight. Trees perhaps, tepees maybe, too far to tell yet; as the sun rose and baked his skin he walked forward to the growing shadows on the plains. He stopped to rest and wiped the sweat from his brow.
There they stood, four riders, covered in furs on pale limbs. Each hooded by a head of an animal, carrying weapons of the like he had not seen. A bear, elk, wolf, and puma pelted beings stared at him from a near by ridge, a spears throw away. They watched each other them and he. Mid day sun cast no shadow for any of them. The elk head bowed in his direction. The four turned away as the bear pointed to a rise. After he followed the gesture and turned to look to them, they were no longer there. To the knoll he trudged on, hunger whimpered at him, his breath laden with the heat of the land.
There covered by shrub in the side of the knoll was a cave. Jagged maw of stone, walls painted like hides telling of tales past. The cave went deep, further than the land as it would naturally lie. He wondered in, tracing animals and peoples with his tan fingers, and taking in the brilliance of the stone. Clattering noise ecoed as kicked bones that littered the floor as he went further. Pain stopped him, something sticking in his ribs, he winced and pulled back. The day light fades from the mouth of the cave as he crouched to see what it was. Resting in a circle were skulls of a bear, elk, wolf and puma; like those of he had seen hours before with fur. They rested a full arms width apart from each other. He entered their circle, wordlessly praying to them for their guidance as they have done before. Closed his eyes and waited cross legged on the cold sandy floor.
Manitou -4
21:29 Jun 24 2006
Times Read: 679
Rage filled his waking eyes, energy of the likes which never knew his senses different yet not as foreign as before. The Brush line waved in a kaleidoscope of colors. A mass of muscle, sinew, with flowing black hair rose to its full stance. Facing the night sky, Sister Moon grinned from her high perch, as he raised his arms up to greet her.
The tree line waved in their fear. Wind blew from him wailing its shame of the trapped turn coats. The memory of the glade came to his minds eye. His solid black eyes narrowed as he approached the clearing. Stone pillars stood as they did ages before. Stone slab rested on the ground where he stood. The writings spoke to him of warriors who passed before him. Absorbing their words, respectfully nodding in greeting as each tapped him with their staff in his minds eye. Feminine laughter echoed from the greenery. He stood unwavering.
A weight landed upon his shoulders as soft flesh wrapped its limbs around him. Vines rapidly grew and wrapped themselves about his feet. Motionless he stood. She bit and tasted his skin, making her alluring way round to where she could face him. Her breast heaved with excited breath. Her hands finding his muscles firm and taunt. Her lust grew as clouds formed above the glade. Churning plumes winking flashes of hidden light. With her hands she grasped his and rubbed her body with his hands. Her back to him, rubbing her hind against his groin, she moaned at the pleasure of his touch. His body working independent of his cunning mind. Like lovers the petted and caressed, bringing her to groaning delight. His man hood stood as oak, she mounted it, and began to grind against its fullness. As she lost herself in passion, chanting lament, as she climaxed time and time again. Their hands holding her breasts, his arm keeping her steady, as her body arched again as she convulsed in her excitement. She separated her self from him slowly. Savoring his length, turning to face him, she wrapped her leg around his waist as she mounted him once again. His hands weave together to hold her to him as she rode him. Her bliss erupted with in her as she screamed with complete rapture. Exhausted she collapsed in to his arms. One arm holding her as the other slid up her side to her throat. Caressing her soft skin, gripping her throat firmly. Making her fore head contact his, eyes unblinking looked at her closed eyes. His third eye opened and began to drain her of her memories, knowledge, and life essence.
Fear filled her as she died in his hand, her last climax as her spirit was consumed. Withered corpse was all that remained. Vengeance contented.
Manitou-321:21 Jun 18 2006
Times Read: 685
Day light shown dull orange through his eye lids, his muscles panged, head heavy, and thought flowed as if filled with mud. Sitting up, taking in the warm air, he scanned the lay of the land. The tree line stood in defiance, no tale of his passage from the glade. Gathering his wits and strength enough to stand and walk he made his way to his tribes camp. Daily life with them continued, as it did the day before. Buffalo meat cured on racks with the hides, and children doing their part to keep harmony with in the camp. He returned to his tee pee, tending his grey horse, shaking out his hides.
“Little Hawk, have you been wondering under the stars again? “, turning to meet the question. Moments of lack of recognition before he answered, “Yes, Ten Bears. I fell asleep out in the woods.” Greeting his Elder with a firm gripping of their fore arms in hands.
“When you are ready, the sweat lodge is near complete, we would be honored to have you sing and play your drum. Tomorrow we celebrate the longest day.” Ten Bears held his shoulder with his free hand as he spoke.
Little Hawk nodded with a courtiouse smile.” Ah-ho”. Ten Bears equally nodded then left him to his task.
After the days work, hunt and caring for his horse. The slow shrinking of the sun settled on the far side of the prairie. His mind began to buzz as images reeled into his thoughts. The black claw, the taste of her womanliness, the pain, and the oddly carved stone. Stumbling through tall wild grain, his fore head drumming a beat, he continued to pace forward. Unbearable pain forced him to his knees, blinding his vision with trickling tears; he held the sides of his head trying to keep it from splitting. Darkness once again.
Manitou-2-
20:53 Jun 17 2006
Times Read: 693
Coldness replaced pain; the chill of a rough surface bit into his skin, his strength failed him in his efforts to move. Eye lids glued shut, muscles ignored his commands. His chest shallowly raised and fell. The scent of night still loomed in his nostrils, his thoughts scattered to the four directions. Time seem to ignore him as his body did.
The touch of cool fingers ran along his leg, caressing gliding to his chest, playful contact found his lips. A woman’s fragrance announced the entity that loomed near him. Moments stretched on, predatory amusement radiated from her as she continued to measure him. His flesh waking, non corporal restraints held him in place as strength waded into him. Filling him through his fore head where pressure remained from the swelling of damaged tissue. Awareness mixed with heightened senses poured into his vessel. His heart began to drum in his ears as a force coursed through him. Strength returned slowly, other sensations invaded his body as she continued to trace his ribs. Warmth cascaded with the waves of vigor, his mind crystallizing its clarity as roots of a different nature grew into his skull. He felt more than different, known sensations could not match its foreign enticements.
She stirred, skin of her bare legs rubbed against his as she knelt on the slab. Her inhales across his chest made it known that she hovered over him. He could feel her breast on his ribs. His body began to swim in her tantalizing essence. Primal urges filled him wholly. Her teasing touch made his body arch in its confinement. Her arousal to his responses to her could be smelt. She shifted her position; her teeth pinched his inner thigh. His man hood swelled against her skin. Giddy purring emitted from her, her body dropped onto his, as she draped her hair on his legs. Hunger rose with in him. Restraints slacked on his neck and head. He felt her thighs close on his ears as she dragged her hair down the length of his legs. Her hands, cool against his skin, grasped his fullness. She buried his face in her valley. Rocking against his chin, her wetness smeared along his chin and nose, sweet tang assaulted his senses. With out fore thought he ate her flesh hungrily. She gasped as he devoured her. Her body rocked against him, her torso left him as she propped her self on is legs. Grinding down upon him she rocked into her passionate bliss. His nose penetrating her, lapping tongue attentive to her pebble, her body thrashing and quaking. As she froze with tense paralysis with the intense explosions he rocked his head biting and licking. Her lament muffled by her legs over his ears. At her convulsive peek he wrapped his lips over his teeth and clamped firmly onto her bliss. Her body surrendered to warming exhaustion.
His bindings faded as she fell to his right. Instinct chimed in his head warning him of a distant gate opening. Rolling off of the slab he weekly crawled; his sight was blurred as he opened them. Like seeing in river water after the silt had been churned. Part of him desired to continue, something gnawed at him to find the edge of the clearing. Confusion swirled through his mind. Feeling his way across the dew laden grass. Moisture clung to him as waves of fatigue clawed at his body with each movement. Through the brambles he was birthed. Sage welcomed him to its lair. His conscious faded as darkness took him.
Manitou-119:43 Jun 17 2006
Times Read: 694
Long ago in the plains land where it was to be called by the invaders as Colorado lived a quaint tribe of Indians. Amongst them was a brave who would scout and hunt by him self. His Elders warned him of the harmful spirits, he listened to their wisdom but could not escape his wonder lust.
On night when the prairie moon shone it’s fullest he found himself in the tall wild grain. Far from the camp fire light he made his way to the tree line. The wood line haunted by wisp of fog, trees loomed under the cascade of lunar light. He noticed the silence as the cool wind died, sweat made his buck skin tunic cling to his torso. Silence was broken by whispers of colliding words. He stood there with his yew bow in hand, quiver at his waist, and shoulder satchel weighing against his flank.
Hunters’ eyes scan for the origin of the whisperer, making his way to the foliage line, halting at a lone rock the size of his thigh. He noticed the unusual markings that covered the stone’s surface. Tracing them with studious caressing, taking in its foreign etchings, as his fingers follow the circles and fill the crevices he felt a warning from it. Interrupted by a blast of cool air that barraged his being, shifting where he knelt, he faced the source that was not of the four winds.
Guarding his eyes against the gale, he felt a presence, almond eyes narrowed peering into the fog that seem to be undisturbed by the wind. The gale died as fast as it had begun. In the woods where a glade was visible in the moon light, a stone slab lay in the center of it, columns bordered the glades edges. More markings he could see covered all of the grey stone. A glint shown on the slab, quarter way from one end, there he felt the drawing of another calling. It warned him, yet it seemed to give him the sensation of destiny.
He approached the clearing focused on the light from the shiny surface of some thing he could make out yet. Breeching the open space, he felt what the Elders described in their stories of passing into the dream hunting grounds. Dropping his bow, unsoldering both bag and quiver with unconscious effort. Forward he stepped, closing the space between him and the source, his will lulled. At arms length he stood, taking in the intercity of the stones surface. Symbols not known to him, the rock looked as old as the mountains, its surface porous. The stone was the length of a buffalo, as wide as man stands, and a head tall. The glimmer pulled his eyes to it, a small tooth of obsidian, tied by aged sinew. Reaching out to it, he felt as if his arm penetrated a flowing river. Grasping its tether, holding it before him, and took in its curious light.
He pulled it from the unseen river, inches from his eyes he glared at it, as it spoke in imagery of tribes long ago. Tribes, who have hunted bravely, met their enemies with out fear, warriors who guarded their families with the spirits to guide them.
In the reflection of the black glass a mist was seen, more felt than visible, and with out warning the small spine leapt from his hand. Puncturing his fore head where his minds eye sits. Burrowing into his flesh, he arched back from its impact; waves of lives past flooded his mind. The ground rushed up to meet him. Dazed, body racked with pain. His mind reeling from its onslaught that tore at his being. Feminine ghostly laughter kissed his ears.
Blackness filled his sight, paralyzed conscious thought, his body thrashing. Pain over whelms him…. Darkness…..
Intro19:46 Jun 11 2006
Times Read: 703
Torpor has left me. What strange world we walk these nights. Whips of ages past drift with the changing tide. To taste life once again will be a divine dinning. Where are the familiar scent, fellow hunters, and forgotten beasts? Energies of new and old blood still remain. To find a mind of the new world to draw upon will be enticing. The City has a pulse of its own, even now I can feel it draw me to the black flame of darker enticements.
Another age ago I remember Uniforms of Green and black, Suits of blue, duty, honor, and integrity. Passion of healing with soothing touch on pained flash. Where words had failed me; deeds proved in action for the concepts of honesty, loyalty, and sensuality. The coined fraise " Jack of all trades, master of none" by companions and peers. God on the lips of lovers spout with sinning profanity, in their lamentation. Torpor has left me. What strange world we walk these nights. Whips of ages past drift with the changing tide. To taste life once again will be a divine dinning. Where are the familiar scent, fellow hunters, and forgotten beasts? Energies of new and old blood still remain. To find a mind of the new world to draw upon will be enticing. The City has a pulse of its own, even now I can feel it draw me to the black flame of darker enticements.
Another age ago I remember Uniforms of Green and black, Suits of blue, duty, honor, and integrity. Passion of healing with soothing touch on pained flash. Where words had failed me; deeds proved in action for the concepts of honesty, loyalty, and sensuality. The coined fraise " Jack of all trades, master of none" by companions and peers. God on the lips of lovers spout with sinning profanity, in their lamentation.
Through the sands of time I have seen southern gentlemen tip their hats to ladies, Shrines of the Orient bow in honoring pleas and prayers. I have felt snow fall on my face in the desert, the destruction of lives in parts of seconds, with the threat of the sun both east and west dogged my heals. I have seen the future to come and the past gone by, for this time has been my constant companion with out rhyme or reason.
I remember a pale man, who claimed to be of some royalty, whose narrow limbs gestures to a box of illusion, art, portraits of lives and bared souls. What remains is to explore. “ Live for the moment for the following moment may not be yours. Riches abound to the right master of the keys.
Pleasant Awakenings part 203:26 Jun 02 2006
Times Read: 706
Hunger woke me, twilight hues bid me forward. My solstice blurred into memory. Subduing him was too easy; carrying him into the basement was simple enough, although the idea of killing him had its appeal. Curiosity stayed my impulse. Three deaths in one night would bring too much attention. Experience had shown that it was too soon. Ancient yearnings desired more of her. Caution with wisdom suggested to use him.
Tied to a metal framed flower print chair he sat. Head hanging. Crumpled pleated pants stained from the previous nights bleeding.
“You have two choices”, grasping oily hair and dragging his eyes to see his captor. Grey eyes widen from astonishment and horror.” Live and serve or die. “
Bindings unravel by unseen hands. “Know that you will choose now or we will choose for you.” Head released yet frozen in fright. His vision held on my form as black on black meld, flash of gold rings from the gloom from shoulder height. Slow nodding answered his given choice.
‘Hear me know and understand fully. I know your people and their trespasses, you are no different. You will continue as you had before. I will be your guest. I can be a benefactor or your worst nightmare. Your actions will tell how you will be treated. You will become the man you should be with guidance. A man of means is your coveted desire, do as I bid and ask me nothing, you will become that man. Behave like your great grandfather before you and your treachery will be paid in generation’s worth. Now do you comprehend what you are offered?’
He only nodded. Wild eyes beginning to grasp what reality they could. Greed had appealed to him with near reflex speed.
Pleasant Awakenings part 1
02:55 Jun 02 2006
Times Read: 708
Cold wind blew through the night, pale moon light shined on grey stones of memories. Muffled screamed of aged steel groan from the pillared crypt. Dried leaves chased each other in a dance of the dust devil swirl.
Youth paying homage to their dark thoughts that pine for power that will never come. Black feline lay gutted in tribute, make shift braziers afire, coal markings dotted by black candles, chanting contiues. They were two, now the meet their dark lord earlier than intended. She in jet lace and he in leather. The expression of astonished wonder frozen on her porcelain and obsidian face; his of horror. She lay as a doll from the orient on the marble slab; his naked flesh curled at her feet. The homage that was offered I took, for I know their prayers will go unanswered. Their blood flowed with in me, their “power” stolen. Innocent or not when the spirit moves with rage of nature it self, all are victims.
Lights shown through windows as I pass along the streets. The scent of the city harkened its decay. Busy noise rumbled on in its’ dull roar. Sense awakens with each beating of languid crimson gold that flowed. A presence… Scent of many sensations once familiar, unawares yet energies that akin to warders.
The old quarter. Pale yellow light daces past a veil of finely crafted lace curtains. A warning chews at my mind. Glyphs, warders, and circles; this structure is protected by ways of old. Steps of forest green paint. Walls off white trimmed in more green. Oak and ash stand as sentries. They watch the way. The smell of lilac and cinnamon permeates the air. Signs unseen challenge all who would wish harm to the occupant with in. Earth, wind, fire and nature have been vested here.
‘Sated beast slumbers with in me. Harm will not come to thee. Passage will be granted for this is my will. Stay your triggers for you are searching for those who search for, not I.’
Trees continue to stand ready; Glyphs continue their vigil, Warders growl at my presence. Shadow movement catches my eye. Robed figure, long dark hair, pale skin, pulse drumming through her neck with fragrance of fresh fallen rain...
Dark eyes scan through the pained window. Searching gaze, sadden or perhaps bored.
Aged hunger announced its own yearnings, pangs of lives past haunting my minds eye. A notion familiar yet distant swelling with the lunar tide, refusal of being denied as blood fills regions all but forgotten. Ocean’s roar crashed in my ears, lungs heaving with charged excitement. Warmth flushed with in my face.
Gravel crunching under tires. Beams of light swing into the parking garage next door, stumbling out of a modern vehicle a modern merchant. Disheveled, reeking of whisky, and grumbling. He stood of average height, having average demeanor, smelling of stale sex, bad cologne, and contempt.
Grey eyes swing to the trees, leering at the visage at the window. Defiant grin explode on his face, conquered conquest known to him. She rolls away from my articulate canvas.
Blending with the ink along the side of gray bark, leather blurs as it is swallowed by pitch.
Keys rattle in a bras lock, finger raised to mock his neighbor. Door widens as he feels a rush of breeze. Light flickers to life with in a kitchen. Mika lacquered over particle board table, belch erupts, out of tune humming echoes his boredom.
Hat tossed onto the marble mica table. Brief case placed in a chair. Into the dark room next he plodded. Gold eyes illuminate form the dark. Kitchen light doused. Audible impact of meat pounded, coughing exhale slows, mild thunder of bones and flesh found rest on carpeted floor.
Gold eyes glowed in pained widows; await more imagery of the living painting.
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