I’ve been spending many days stuck between creativity and complete idiocy. In those days, A book I have been working on is slowly morphing into a realistic vision. I recently reached the 50% mark on the draft, of which promises to be 100,000 words, so I have decided to see what everyone thinks of the first page. Comment, question, share:

Count Down From Ten

Chapter One, Page One – Mindlessness

The piercing sound of birds screaming pried me from a sleep tarnished by nightmares. I could feel my eyes sticking to the back of my eyelids. My lips peeled from my teeth as my tongue probed my mouth for drops of water. My stomach churned. Signaling the ghosts of the night past to weather my body.

An array of tired muscles unwillingly came to life as my mind opened. It’s subconscious signaled my arm towards the space beside me.  As it plowed through the covers, I noticed the sweet smell of another’s flesh lingering in the heavy air. Tainted by the stink of ale and sweat radiating from every corner of the room. My rigid body dropped when I felt nothing but an empty divot in the rough sheets.

The light flooding into my bedside window blinded me as the room came into focus. Dull, lifeless, as if it were a prison. A beaten metal bedframe clashed with the crudely built armoire. Grey walls held a large broken clock in their center that always displayed 10:32. Clothes were strewn about on the floor in an organized fashion, ruffling whenever the unbalanced fan wavered in their direction. I peeked over the foot of the bed to look in the smudged mirror leaning against my wall.  I scoffed at a tattered looking reflection, studying the damage that social life had put on my body. I scratched at a red mark imprinted on my shoulder, smearing it across my chest.

In my usual fashion, I could not help but wonder if she was still here; if the night was more than a drunken quest to feel slightly less empty. If I was chivalrous enough to slip by the walls of lust she had forged from the burn of whisky and vodka, just long enough to show her the idea of a more permanent longing.

“Who am I kidding?” I thought to myself. “I just need to have some fun, I’m only twenty.”

I chuckled, a mental parry to block the underlying need for connection my guilty conscious seems to intoxicate me with. Longing for something other than the physical uses of the human body.  I repeated this thought a couple of times, and a third to make it seem true. Suddenly the fog of liquor lifted, and memories of the past night consumed me.

Projections of a lavish redhead flickered about my vision. Her porcelain skin caught the moonlight as if it were part of her. No more foreign than freckles dotting her torso, like a photo negative of the night sky.  Her petite frame whisked about like a ghostly flame fueled by desire, dancing in the breeze. The darkness, at war with the light clinging to her form. She looked at me.  Her green eyes, a spotlight fixed upon the depths of the labyrinth that is my heart. Evaluating the courtship of my deepest desires, scribbled about the surface of my every gaze. Written in my own pen.  My hands were swallowed in the blood red color of her matted locks as I teased them, gently guiding them behind her ear.  Her voice echoed as her thin lips drew my name.

“Davet” She said, grasping my lip between her front teeth. A soft growl echoed from the beast she painstakingly had concealed inside. The hunger in her eyes turned to mystery.

I could feel her lips twist into a smile as our gaze broke. I studied every detail, every blemish as I grabbed her arms, bringing her closer to my heart. Her boyish breasts pressed up against my chest sending intense warmth creeping over me. The tickle of my chest hair sent a shiver pulsating down her body. I tried to contain it, wrapping my arms around her, mapping the valleys of her spine with my calloused fingers. She pushed back, digging her delicate talons into my sides.

I could feel her breath laden with the smell of booze. Booze, condensing all of the thoughts that normally race through my mind, into a single stream of consciousness. Raw emotion. Every drop conceals some of my woes. The constant worry that tends to contradict my every decision takes leave. The only form of communication that now matters is physical. Raw contact. Her rhythmic movement enticed me, hypnotized me. Pulsating like the surf sliding on to the shore, Her movement gained pace, the more hypnotized I became, the symphony of noises coming from our bodies entrapped within each other, morphed into a knocking sound.

“Wait” I said, or was my mind just speaking for me?

I reached towards her, grasping a handful of nothing but air. As my eyes jolted open, her indecent form faded from memory. A loveless vixen, loved for a day.

The rapping on the door came into focus, overtaking the sounds morning bears. My body cowered as I slipped from under the covers; the cold stale air entrapped it. Licking my skin, my hair standing on end. I scanned the room for a pair of clean trousers, noticing a ragged brown pair in the corner. I shuffled over, nicking my toe on the bedpost. I grasped it as I continued a goofy ballet towards my pants. Giving the wall the blunt of my weight I slid them on.

- Isaac Olajos