and we'll be thieves
and we'll be thieves
yunjae, g
romance
727 words
if he could, he would wrap you in his words and spin you a world so real you’d never want to leave.
we’ll be runaways in the night, he says. can't you just imagine it? we’ll sneak out in the dark and cross over the borders and never get caught; we’ll never look back.
and you can almost feel him, reaching out to circle your wrist with rough fingers, trying to be gentle as he caresses skin that’s far too sore to the touch. the air is cool and too-sweet against the raw marks left behind by shackles. you feel that pain, alongside the panic in your lungs and the way your pulse beats at the walls of your veins.
the two of you run and run, always north, following the dip of stars along the horizon. it’s far too dark and your feet are blindly dodging lines of barbed wire and button-tops of landmines but you keep going with his hand in yours and it’s all okay.
we’ll be vagabonds, he says. and we’ll be thieves. we’ll live in the desert and wear rags around our faces to keep out the sand, our skin will be cracked from the sun but we’ll steal riches from everyone who wanders past.
you see yourselves sleeping under trunks of dead wood in the day, trying to find shade from the glass-glint of the sun, waiting until night when you can walk without smelling the heat. instead your feel the warmth of sand sinking, cradling your feet as you climb up dunes and skid-skip across the waves.
lonely days and nights that you fill with just the two of you. the thrill of a life, a fight to survive. on the edge of the world, in the forgotten creases of civilization, you roam with no law, no rules - absolute freedom held in your hand, sharp as the taste of salt on your tongue.
and when we’re done with stealing, we’ll be merchants, he says. we’ll trade our plunder for fine fabrics and oriental sweets; we’ll travel the silk road, across and out of the desert, to the grassy steppe where we can feel the loam under our feet and see the whole breadth of the land spread around us. we’ll go through jungles that smell like spices and wear the richest of clothes and won’t that be just grand? it will be, he says. i know it will.
hearing his breathe against your ear, listening to the sound of rain falling on a hundred different lands, as you go in vibrant caravans. he’d ride beside you on a camel, on horseback, on the wide stretch of an elephant’s spine. persian rugs of red and gold cover it’s leathery skin, the long coarse hairs. it’d be like a flying carpet if it weren’t for the occasional swing of a giant ear, like a grey fan to keep you cool in the humid airs.
i know you can see it, he says. like he’s taking you there on the flight of sound. like your soul is leaving your body and hand in hand you too are travelling on an adventure of ages past. this is our future, he says. our history.
we’ll be princes. in arabia, he says. we’ll arrive in all our glory and they’ll think us royals from an exotic, far-away land and we’ll make treaties for imaginary lands and false daughters. a palace for each of us, made of sandstone, onyx, marble - inlaid with jewels and gold so that when the sun is up people will have to shield their eyes just to see us.
we’ll have everything, he says. and you know he’s serious and if he could, he would make it all true. if he could, he would wrap you in his words and spin you a world so real you’d never want to leave. it’s already real to him, you can just imagine it - he can probably taste it, feel it. if you looked to him you could probably see each place reflected in his dark, open eyes.
that sounds amazing, you say. you say, goodnight, jaejoong, and you hang up the phone. you roll over into the empty spaces of your bed, closing your eyes into soft down-cotton that smells like feathers. you are here and he is an ocean away, untouchable.
and yet when you dream, you dream that you two are birds, floating smooth on smooth currents and warm air. birds can’t smile but they can’t frown either, and you two can see it all, the world and everything except where the winds will take you next.
started writing: 5/1/10
finished writing: 5/3/10
master list
Free Hit Counter
an brief exercise in image and sensory detail. poignancy was the goal, whereas coherency... eh, not so much, lol. comments are always appreciated!
yunjae, g
romance
727 words
if he could, he would wrap you in his words and spin you a world so real you’d never want to leave.
we’ll be runaways in the night, he says. can't you just imagine it? we’ll sneak out in the dark and cross over the borders and never get caught; we’ll never look back.
and you can almost feel him, reaching out to circle your wrist with rough fingers, trying to be gentle as he caresses skin that’s far too sore to the touch. the air is cool and too-sweet against the raw marks left behind by shackles. you feel that pain, alongside the panic in your lungs and the way your pulse beats at the walls of your veins.
the two of you run and run, always north, following the dip of stars along the horizon. it’s far too dark and your feet are blindly dodging lines of barbed wire and button-tops of landmines but you keep going with his hand in yours and it’s all okay.
we’ll be vagabonds, he says. and we’ll be thieves. we’ll live in the desert and wear rags around our faces to keep out the sand, our skin will be cracked from the sun but we’ll steal riches from everyone who wanders past.
you see yourselves sleeping under trunks of dead wood in the day, trying to find shade from the glass-glint of the sun, waiting until night when you can walk without smelling the heat. instead your feel the warmth of sand sinking, cradling your feet as you climb up dunes and skid-skip across the waves.
lonely days and nights that you fill with just the two of you. the thrill of a life, a fight to survive. on the edge of the world, in the forgotten creases of civilization, you roam with no law, no rules - absolute freedom held in your hand, sharp as the taste of salt on your tongue.
and when we’re done with stealing, we’ll be merchants, he says. we’ll trade our plunder for fine fabrics and oriental sweets; we’ll travel the silk road, across and out of the desert, to the grassy steppe where we can feel the loam under our feet and see the whole breadth of the land spread around us. we’ll go through jungles that smell like spices and wear the richest of clothes and won’t that be just grand? it will be, he says. i know it will.
hearing his breathe against your ear, listening to the sound of rain falling on a hundred different lands, as you go in vibrant caravans. he’d ride beside you on a camel, on horseback, on the wide stretch of an elephant’s spine. persian rugs of red and gold cover it’s leathery skin, the long coarse hairs. it’d be like a flying carpet if it weren’t for the occasional swing of a giant ear, like a grey fan to keep you cool in the humid airs.
i know you can see it, he says. like he’s taking you there on the flight of sound. like your soul is leaving your body and hand in hand you too are travelling on an adventure of ages past. this is our future, he says. our history.
we’ll be princes. in arabia, he says. we’ll arrive in all our glory and they’ll think us royals from an exotic, far-away land and we’ll make treaties for imaginary lands and false daughters. a palace for each of us, made of sandstone, onyx, marble - inlaid with jewels and gold so that when the sun is up people will have to shield their eyes just to see us.
we’ll have everything, he says. and you know he’s serious and if he could, he would make it all true. if he could, he would wrap you in his words and spin you a world so real you’d never want to leave. it’s already real to him, you can just imagine it - he can probably taste it, feel it. if you looked to him you could probably see each place reflected in his dark, open eyes.
that sounds amazing, you say. you say, goodnight, jaejoong, and you hang up the phone. you roll over into the empty spaces of your bed, closing your eyes into soft down-cotton that smells like feathers. you are here and he is an ocean away, untouchable.
and yet when you dream, you dream that you two are birds, floating smooth on smooth currents and warm air. birds can’t smile but they can’t frown either, and you two can see it all, the world and everything except where the winds will take you next.
started writing: 5/1/10
finished writing: 5/3/10
master list
Free Hit Counter
an brief exercise in image and sensory detail. poignancy was the goal, whereas coherency... eh, not so much, lol. comments are always appreciated!