I Dance, I Ditch, I Die

Feel the beat, beneath our feet as the music plays.

You take my hand, I feel the warmth of it as our fingers interlock. But I don’t see them, I’m too busy staring into your eyes, those captivating eyes. They hold me prisoner in their gaze, hypnotized by their intensity. I’m spellbound.

You lead me to the dance floor. I don’t see the other dancers, just you bathed in golden light. Everything else is in shadow. All I can see is your eyes, your smile. We weave through the dancers with agility and grace. You lead. I follow.

We stop in the middle of the dance floor. You circle me, appraising me. Though your eyes are locked on mine, I can tell they see all of me. I’m your prey. You’re the hunter. I long to be devoured.

Your strong hand brushes across the small of my back. I shiver. Your other hand grabs the one hanging by my side. Our fingers lace and you bring my hand to your beautiful lips, brushing their soft, plumpness against the back. It’s like fire licking my skin and dancing upon the hair follicles.

You pull me close and we start to sway back and forth in time to the music. You hold me so tight I can feel your heart beating in your chest. I feel so beautiful, so safe in your arms. Your aroma makes me dizzy. Your warmth makes me melt. Your intense gaze exposes my soul. Your lips snare me, induce me, seduce me.

You dance with me. It’s beautiful. I’m lost. I’m found. I’m scared. I’m safe. I’m alive. I burn. I worship you.

You kiss me, and I cease to exist. I’m yours. I’m lost in you, in your arms, in your love.

The clock strikes twelve.

I feel the façade fade. Fear consumes me. I know you could never love the simple girl inside. In fear, in doubt, and in confusion - I run.

Only in this fairy tale - you don’t run after me. I don’t lose a piece of me for you to find, because you’re not searching for me.

My heart now burns to cinder ash, and I’ve become numb. Many ask me to dance, but I feel nothing – not the music, not the fire, not the passion. The more I refuse, the more they want me, but I only want to dance with one.

Every day I am being transformed into the image of the princess I had once pretended to be – the one you wanted me to be – yet you can’t now see. You dance with the other princesses, hypnotizing them with your intense gaze, seducing them with your cunning cleverness. They don’t run.

My ashes cool and only a cold pile remains. I hate it. I smile, but I’m crying inside. I want to live, but I also want to die. I want the magic, but I have no wand. I’m shriveling to nothing and soon will be nothing but ash floating in the wind. My fairy tale has ended and my Prince is gone. I’m trying to survive. I’m trying to move on. I can’t breathe.

I hate who I’m becoming. She’s everything I despise. I’m no longer Cinderella, but a big, bad witch in disguise.

Till next time,

~Wicked Witch of the World

Writing with Emotion

If any of my friends from school or even those I worked with in the corporate world read any of my writings or blogs today, they’d think they’d stumbled upon an impostor,  someone with the same face and name but perhaps the victim of an alien body snatcher. I not only live differently, from quiet and reserved to open and honest, but I write with a different method. I write with emotion; I bleed part of my soul onto the page.

I’ve had other writer friends ask me why I do this.  They personally feel like it’s an invasion of their privacy.  Some see it as a weakness, a weapon to be used by the public to discredit their hard work and talent.  I suppose that could be true, but I see things a little differently. I believe in giving my best – and my best is of myself.

While I care what my readers, fans and followers think, feel and how they respond to my work, or even to me as a person, but to be quite honest - I don’t live or write for them – I live and write for me.  I invite them to journey with me AS I journey, but I don’t put on a show.  These words I write are who I am; the real picture, the real me. All these emotions, experiences, and thoughts are raw. I do not apologize for them, nor am I ashamed. 

If I could convey anything to those who read these blogs, it’s I hope they can serve as an example of humanity.  I write fictional characters.  I know how to create an image, a character and a personality - and I know many bloggers who write in such fashion. I’m currently setting up a fictional blog for one of my characters in a new book I’m writing, and it will be written from the character’s POV.  But the Whimsical World of T.L. Gray is just that… MY whimsical world.  For those who read it – thank you for allowing me to share.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray