The Other One



He approached, she accepted. Hands touched, the feeling electric. She reached in for a kiss, his eagerness for her revealing itself with the hunger of man who wanted to be fed. Courageous with her heart, she poured her love out like warmed sweet cream butter, hot and thick, its taste sufficient to satisfy.

Time desired to flow into eternity this way, but for the other one.

The other one held his sway through masterly manipulation, striking fear in him knowing his limitations better; not to mention a ring and those long-ago regrettable vows. She had a keen awareness of his paranoia and like a vulture picking at a roadside carcass, attacked his anxieties and insecurities. Even when a day of certain freedom was offered to him he couldn’t take hold of it because he knew she held his greatest treasures in her pocket; otherwise, by his own confession, he would have seized freedom long ago.

She forced his affections to lean her direction, well practiced in the art of emotional extortion but still he had a choice. He chose to be her puppet. He failed to have the guts for glory, allowing defeat to prickle the path of least resistance he must now walk.

Should his mind wander to those thoughts of momentary happiness, comfort and deep satisfaction he’d once sought, he can only try to soothe himself with a cold blanket of regret. After all, fear is powerful but cowardice deserves nothing more than the ever-present longing for that which has slipped through the fingers like dust.



 (Image courtesy of Microsoft Clipart)



22 responses »

    • Sometimes it’s interesting to ask the question, whether an answer really exists or not. I find that you do that quite often in your own writing, something I admire. Thank you for reading 🙂

    • It’s sort of a timeworn topic I suppose – but it seems to make it’s way ’round the bookshelves and movie theatres regularly. I figured I’d throw my two cents in on it, too 🙂 This is something I actually began work on years ago, dusted off and finished. I think it’s interesting how the years between starting and stopping a piece can change one’s perspective and/or redirects the course of the writing. Anyway, have a lovely weekend and thanks always for stopping in 🙂

  1. well sheila, that started out out sooooo wonderful and then… really took a turn. but it can certainly be like that. i’m really not afraid to admit it here. it reminded me of when i got married. i was led right into it and pretty much was kinda like a puppet, though i wasn’t wholeheartedly. my strings were being pulled all the time. words of voice were just lodged inside – needed time to evolve. now that i have it, it’s given me the tools in how to communicate with my new femme interest. your piece is real dose of reality, and yes, that last line says it all. hope you are enjoying our autumn weather before it sheds into the teeth of winter.

    • I love your comments because you lace them with a bit of prose of your own. It’s still quite warm, 80s and no fall colors on the trees as of yet. But I sure am looking forward to that. It’s funny how we grow and change and evolve – painful sometimes, but if we allow it to transform us, our lives can really take off 🙂

  2. Hmm, interesting… That starts one way and ends another. It made me read the first and last paragraph again, which actually is also an interesting way of looking at it. Good job.

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