Trespass


There was definitely a face at the window. And below the face a body gleaming in the moonlight. A naked body. A man's naked body. Cupcake growled. The man growled back at the trembling cocker spaniel. The naked, growling man dropped to his hands and knees and pressed his face against the glass door. Even in the darkness, she could see the blood streaming from the side of his mouth.

"I must be dreaming." She thought.

The man - if man it was - rose to his feet and resumed his banging on the door. He howled like a wounded animal. The door vibrated. Philomena prayed it would withstand the assault.

Suddenly he stopped. He brought his face very close to the glass and seemed to smile at Philomena. Then he pointed to the river, turned and walked away - beckoning her to follow. She tried the phone again. It was still dead.

Emeralds

He gives her emeralds. Jewels the color of her eyes, and with the same fire. Emeralds made into earrings and bracelets and necklaces and rings and pins. Enough emeralds, says his exasperated aide, to use up the production of an entire Brazilian mine. His favorite is the necklace, a slim gold chain with a giant emerald pendant surrounded by diamonds. He loves to see it hanging between her breasts when they make love. He wishes he could possess her body and soul, but she holds a part of herself aloof. The emeralds don’t make up for the one thing he can’t give her. His name.

(Free-written fron a guided meditation led by Nancy at a Kitchen Table meeting)