The Tweeples Piece

This piece is dedicated to my twitter timeline. Yesterday, I requested some fresh ideas, anything to get my pen flowing, and in doing so, I promised to incorporate each offering into one single piece. Here is what I was gifted with.

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I truly hope I don’t disappoint.
Here it is…

The Tweeples Piece…

The mirror adored her, always has, mocked her even. Locks of golden hair that tumbled in bouncy beauty now swiftly restrained in a messy ponytail, she curled her lip, snarled at her reflection in her rear view, and hit the gas…
Where she was headed, not even she knew, as long as it was anywhere but here, that’s where she needed to be.
The radio in this old car never was loud enough to drown out her thoughts, but today, the music didn’t even reach her ears. Today, was the last fucking time she’d let a man deceive her, the final time she’d fall for a tailored suit and a million dollar smile. Never again, would she let herself get tangled in fresh linen sheets with one that spun them with his scorchingly seductive linguistics.
Nope… Never again!
Just like the last time… Sigh…
Shaking her head at her stupidity, her mind sinks into a moment, grade school, Tommy P… The dreamiest boy in class, slyly scripted love letters lead to sweet valentine kisses behind the bike sheds. And the next day, and the next… And the next, his lips were locking with buck toothed, scrawny arms, EX best friend, Penny!
Broken, shattered, found…
That, was the day Goofy entered her world. His name was Jack, but he never seemed phased by the name others had given him. Long and lean, a goofy smile that rarely broke, an underarm forever filled with books. He was the type of boy that kept to himself, and watched the world with an uplifted eyebrow, as if to say, what the fuck are you doing.
‘So, what the fuck are you doing?’
His long shadow blocked the blazing sun, his harsh words saved her from drowning in the pool of self pitiful tears.
‘Ummmm crying… And what’s it to you?’
That was it, they shared an easy smile, walked home in sounds of her constant babble, and his steady footsteps. Stopping directly outside her house, her confusion spoke.
‘How did you know where I live?’
Shifting his heavy stack of literature, he raised a single finger, aimed at the dark house next door, the one that instantaneously struck spine tingling shivers every time she allowed her eyes to remember it even existed.
‘You live….there?’
His goofy lip curled, as he turned to walk away. ‘Come’.

The summer sun beat down with a fury that matched her mind, the classic car purred into each corner along this road that held her, steered her from the crippling pain, to nowhere, just away. Picturesque mountain peaks lost in shadows of her clouded mind, the deep valleys shallowed in compare to her tumultuous thoughts. Her boiling rage reminded her of ‘that Halloween’.

Trick or treating was fun, when fueled with a few swigs of vodka. A playboy bunny tail swished with her slinky sway, no fine detail could be spared when the schools most sought after hottie, Chad, was due to be on your doorstep at any minute. Candy collecting kids filled the streets, spooks and ghouls screaming for the sake of the thrill. A haunting night, if treated right. A dark corner, a horny teenager, an alcoholic heat, a tights tearing reality. Chad turned, in the blink of an eye, from a nice guy, into a forcefield her waving arms could not contain. A rampant thrust of lust her petite yet buxom frame could not warn away. He was animal, a carnal beast, hurting her was the least of his concerns.
And then, nothing.
A silent room, dimly lit by flickers of soft gold. A throbbing ache covering her entire body halted her escape, eyes scanning the room for some familiarity. And there it was, a wall of books, some scattered on the side tables, others piled on the floor. She, once again, was in the home of Goofy.
‘Welcome back’ a deep voice jolted her sore form, it came from a corner that sat almost completely shadowed from light.
‘How did I get here?’
‘Never mind.’
What happened to…’
‘Never mind.’ His tone cut the air like a knife that knew of no resistance.
She had no more questions.
The night was spent, with stories of centuries old, poetry recited through his well versed lips, chills of gripping delight, tales of titillating torture. He claimed her mind, with a powerful rush of knowledge, understanding and a steamy mug, of intoxicatingly rich hot chocolate. He read to her in an elated tone of the 7 deadly sins, witches slipping drops of poison from hidden vials abreast, she then took turn and found a beautifully bound Anais Nin. He let his fingers comb through her long hair, as they laughed through words scripted to entice, to desire, to quiver and scare. The ghostly night of hallows eve drifted by them as if the sunlight peeking through the curtains of dawn was the norm.

The sun was now preparing to rest, she’d been driving for hours on end. A refuel of her body and car found her soft smile at the brief memories she shared with that goofy boy from next door. He’d saved her, protected her in times of aching despair. He’d taught her to believe that her beauty was more than skin deep. He promised her that one day she’d finally know just how worthy she was of the love she longed for, yearned to feel, sought to live. Her eyes pooled, as she once again began to drive. Silly fool was she to believe a stupid goofy boy with too many books to read. Look at her now, a decade between, in the car, headed nowhere due to love once again being nothing but a farce. Everything, everyone she’d let in, allowed to see her, had used her, abused her, torn her down and left behind the pieces. Yes, a fool she was to believe in goofy dreams.
A cold moon crested, as full as the wolves would devour with howls. Her fingers found comfort as they began to fiddle with her fine string of pearls.

‘You’re leaving today, upon a journey toward your destiny’ He whispered in her ear as he stepped in close enough for her to feel the heat of his breath.
‘It’s just college, Goofy, not a worldly expedition’ she giggled at his touch as he gently turned her to face the mirror.
‘Oh they’re beautiful. Just superb’
‘They’re mine, and will remain that way.’ He replied sternly.
Her eyes found his in their reflected caress. Puzzled, she traced the perfect strand of allure with a light brush.
‘These are pearls of pain and pleasure, my treasure. You may wear them but in doing so, you too, are mine.’
Her laugh was enough to wake the living dead, her head thrown back onto his broad shoulder.
‘Oh Goofy, how your twisted mind pleases me.’ She spun on her heel sweeping delicate kisses on his cheeks.
‘Good bye dear poet, write me sometime.’
That was the final sweet moment they’d shared as friends, the door closing behind her. They were, no more.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, her heart was skipping beats. Her car came to a halt, before she even knew where she was. The darkness drenched in a light dew, masked the streetlights in an eerie hue. She peeked through her window, only to see that familiar dark house. Laughing aloud at the ridiculous notion that firstly, she was here, not to mention it had been ten years. There’s no way! Not a chance in scolding hell…
Her steps up the path were quivering with anticipation. She finally understood what he meant when they last met. Her mind no longer strained to believe, her body no more felt the grip of fear. She knew, without doubt, she was destined to be here.
A quiet knock, lightly bit her knuckles. A flicked light above startled her stance. A long slow squeak of the door, revealed a tall, dark, handsome man.
‘You’re here?’ She whispered as if the breath was stolen from her lungs.
‘I knew you’d return. Now, come.’
He gripped her wrists with an almighty tug, lifting them both directly above her panting mouth. Pinned beneath the boy so poetically goofy, and the walls that had seen the strong man he’d always been.
Here, lived her dream.
His claim, her freedom.

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19 thoughts on “The Tweeples Piece

  1. Philip Wardlow

    Beautifully done….very poetic prose…the words collided and meshed in a very almost hypnotic way where you wanted to read the next sentence. Never think that you don’t have the stuff to be a great writer because you do…:) I loved this story.

    Like

    Reply
  2. marcus

    Blastoff!!! Sigh and Swoon, to weak of words to describe this ride you’ve given. The Black Stallion in full gallop, an adrenalin rush for sure. Fucking great.

    Like

    Reply

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