Tag Archives: friendship

DTP 11: The Phone-less Phonebooth

There’s a glassy membrane over them, the circle members. Like the shell of a translucent egg waiting to be split open. “Ask us our secrets and we may tell,” they seem to promise behind their perfectly manicured faces, their dilated eyes, their shining hair, their debonair smiles… 

Caerawyn knows her curiosity is born out of her revulsion–a paradox of fascination overlaying the very real horror of her circumstances. She is dancing and drinking and mingling with these members of the circle. She even likes their lusty glances and their open infatuation with her and how they think she thinks.

The only two human beings in the stadium ballroom are Caera and Balen, surely. 

Balen seems to be the only one in the room who has a problem with this fact, but he’s not keen to voice such opinions until he and Caerwyn are firmly squished into the hotel phonebooth (which is not surprisingly missing its phone) away from wandering eyes and idle ears.

“This is crazy,” he hisses, sounding almost like a member. “What in the hell are we doing here?! We need to get out. You can’t be so… You know they just want to eat you, right?”

Caerwyn’s eyes blink rapidly in annoyance. “Please.” She sighs then to cut him off. “Balen, of course they want to eat us. We look amazing,” she says airily, then her expression darkens. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to stop them…”

Her cohort, sharing breath, squished into her, feeling both uncomfortable with their situation and their situation, resigns himself with a groan of utter loathing and affection. “Dammit… Yeah, I do, but how the hell are we gonna go about it now? We didn’t plan on so many.”

Caerwyn smiles. “Dance, Balen,” she says with a purr, slipping past him, sashaying back toward the siren’s call of house music.

The synthetic jazz seems to whisper, “Come and see…”

Caera turns slightly to look over her shoulder and that’s when Balen belatedly decides his other half is probably drunk and cleaning up after her future social misfires is the least of his worries. (The paramount worry pacing through his head is that Caerwyn will die at the hands of some rather insidious circle members and he will be left in a state of catatonic shock for the rest of his life. He entertains the image before swallowing it with the same unease one would exhibit imbibing a cyanide capsule.)

His platinum beauty, his companion, his… Gone? Never.

She grins at him, almost admonishing, and the hallway disappears for just a moment. Hers is a face that will haunt him before it even has a ghost to haunt him with. “Balen,” she chides, “there’s one thing I’m beginning to understand about these creeps… They’re basically children.”

Before he can dissect this comparison–rather, before he can poke holes in it–his partner chuckles.

“And kids… Kids always play with their food first. Let’s make it worth their while.”

“You’re like a pyro with matches,” is all he can say in return.

Caerwyn shrugs. “‘Least we’re both aware fire burns.”

“Pretty sure that makes us idiots,” Balen says, but he’s already agreed with her and she knows it. Despite his denial, he has it too–that paradoxical sickness–that fascination with the macabre–that itch that needs to be scratched. But he also knows such wayward investigators rarely live beyond their first encounter with the unnatural. “Curiosity killed the cat…”

“But satisfaction brought it back,” Caera snaps back with a wicked smirk.

“Downside to your plan: We two do not have nine lives, even between the two of us.”

Caerwyn, white dress, icy complexion, warm smile, sunny disposition, steadfast, bullheaded, and sad… links an arm through his and winks. “Guess we’ll have to improvise.”

Downtown Platinum (c)2017 Karin Mayville 
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DTP 9: Beneath an Endless Duet

“Once more into the fray.”

They spoke in unison, their voices harmonizing as they moved simultaneously. Two blades, one dark and one pale, moved like two parallel shards of utter nothingness and pure starlight respectively, rising, falling, and twisting on twilit air.

The feminine one looked to their masculine counterpart. “Jinx,” the dark one said.

The pale one rolled eyes heavenward. “I was just about to say that,” the masculine one grumbled with a small smile.

The rattle and growl of the gray legion that circled them enveloped the feminine one’s answering quip, drowning word and thought as the opposition spoke with one voice as well. The issued command vibrated the fabric of reality and sent body-aching tremors through the pair: “JOIN. JOIN. JOIN.”

“No,” Pale said simply.

“Better to be at war than to feel nothing,” Dark added.

“ALONE. ALONE. ALONE.” The rally cry of the legion. The observation of their host.

Dark looked to their partner and the masculine one nodded gravely.

“We are not alone,” they said.

“DIE. DIE. DIE,” the gray ones said and, bearing tooth and claw, they swarmed together like the aperture of a camera, swallowing the two in a photograph to last the ages. Dark and Pale were back-to-back, sweat trickling down their faces, their hair whipped by currents controlled by their most hated adversary: the loss of individuality.

Teeth gnashed. Battle cries clashed. Shards flashed.

Love does not really exist, the gray ones taught.

Love does not really exist to you lot, the mirror preached.

To the end, Love, in either respect, would not be respected by either party in the end.

Forged in war, the partners would not last past the settling of the smoke. Their love would not survive past the final drop of blood. Dark and Pale sought ultimate refuge away from the routine and lack of complexity found in the Masse of the Gray, but they had already found that sanctuary in each other. Perhaps they simply refused to acknowledge it, secretly knowing that the admittance of their folly would destroy the fragile dream they had imagined together.

The truth was, peace would never be had between them unless they were at war, and there would be no more war after the legion was destroyed. Their last adversaries would fall to their defiance of the twilit natural order, and the two of them would turn on each other, knowing no other way to exist; no other way to live; and no other way to love…

That is the true pity of it all.

Downtown Platinum (c)2017 Karin Mayville 
Find out more at Downtown Platinum on Facebook.

DTP 2: True

To my best friend:
Come on, let’s run–
Trip drunk over dumb
Shit we call fun–
Paint these crooked walls
With what we used to call
Easy eggs, bacon, waffles.
We’ll talk about life
And all our strife.
The jokes cut like knives.
But isn’t it nice?
The funniest people I know
Leave room to grow
And hide more pain
Than they like to show.
The kindest people I love
When push comes to shove
Would tear apart the whole world
Just to prove they give a fuck.
My best friend, I’ll keep to you.
I know I jab and rip you through
But I hope it reminds you
No matter what the world tries to
Turn you into
I know you, above all people, are true.

Downtown Platinum (c)2017 Karin Mayville
Find out more at Downtown Platinum on Facebook.

They Told Me Bloodletting Heals

Don’t believe them for a second.

Oh no
Oh no
I’ve been here before
I know
I know
I shouldn’t care but
I guess I’ll bleed some more

You were the pillow lines on my face
You were the ache in my spine every time I dared to close my eyes
And I can’t erase the tracks left below my lashes
like lanes or roads
whips would lash down on
Oh no

I go
I go
I tell myself, “Don’t look back.”
But I do
I do
Oh my God, I always do just that!

I am the feathers drifting through your room
I am the splintered chair and your hair standing straight on end
And I am the truth staring straight through you
like I’m dying on your bed
But you knew what your words would do
I know

You are a warm hand in the dark
I am a ghost against your cheek
You are the only star with a spark
I am the only knife that can speak

and my words cut deep
and you’re burnin’ out
and all that either of us have ever been
has been knowing we’re going to ground
for the count

Oh no
I know
I go
I do

We are the rescue
We are the guard
We are the virtues
we would rather spit out
We’re both hurting badly
We’re both yearning madly

But we can’t jump up out
of a smoking plane
if we’re settled on the falling
down
because those two ways
obviously aren’t the same
I want to be devout
but you must think that I’m insane

But shit…
Dammit all.
I’ve been here before.
Around we go.
Yeah. I know.
Try… “Try again, Amore.”
Eventually I will bleed
no more.

Tomorrow For Sure

Broken down
To my components
Laid on the ground
Like your suitcase
I’m all strung out
You’re exposing
All the sounds
I am capable of making.

I just couldn’t see
you were hurting
“Why the hurry?
You know you make me worry?”

And I didn’t know
What even got through
When I shouted for you
When I loved after you.

I never saw it coming
Sideways lights
Lit up the night.
Story of my life
You left me questions
Half-made impressions
A dozen second guesses
I gotta clean up all your messes?!

And I want to lie to myself
To get outta this hell
You’ve left me with.

What am I supposed to think?
Give up all I know of love–
everything?
I built a world around you
And now it seems nothing…
Is as it seems.

“Dreams
made flesh”
I could weep.
You’ve already made me bleed
Your absence is like a knife
That just won’t stop cutting.

But who would I be
To just give in?
You told me I couldn’t love on a whim…
So I did.
And you can break my heart
But not my might!
And I’ve still got my pride
And I’ll still go and hope and fight the good fight
But…
My god

Not tonight.

Painted Red

The tile’s cold, but the water’s warm.
I’ll shield you from any harm.

What are we fighting for
(When we fight ourselves)
If not for each other?

If not for all our friends
Then why not our lovers?

The world is spinning down a road
We meant to paint red

But it looks like
It painted us instead.

Skydivers

Nothin’ better than the little death.
I dare you: take me out again.
As we fall, look me in the eyes
So I can pretend we might die
And our shutes won’t open.

I’d rather that the last thing I see
Is you looking deep inside of me.
As we feel the earth collide
And our legs go weak one last time
I lean in, kiss your cheek.

The sky has always been our escape.
It’s Reality at the bottom I can’t take.
So I can only glance once, shyly pine,
“Wanna go to the edge like last time?”
Your smile is your pledge.