Saturday, October 15, 2011
The Rogue Speaks:
I knew he was waiting for me. I could feel his essence prickling my neck. It was silent in the grove, save for the call of a crow to its mate, and I could smell the pungent, familiar aroma of dry pine straw beneath the trees.
The floorboards creaked as I approached the door. Silently, he appeared and held out his hand. I touched his fingers, and a current ran through me, to that deep, secret place. I gasped. I could taste the sweat on his lip.
In the decrepitude of that dwelling, everything was once again fresh and new.