Archive for the ‘Prose’ Category

Radha-Krishna | by Miasmicnectar

Radha-Krishna | by Miasmicnectar

Radha feels the thin film of sand quietly grind and shuffle beneath her feet as she moves across the cold cement floor. The household was quiet as she steals away from it in the dead of night. She had nothing more to lose now. Even her demons had let her down this time around.

She invokes her namesake as she quietly open the creaky old, steel gate, asking for blessings on her journey. Sounding almost like a plea, from one woman in love to another. She lifts the edge of the tattered sari she chose to wear for inconspicuousness and runs into the night, almost flying as the cold air tries to slap her awake from this maddened trance. But she stops for nothing and no one in her determined dance of limbs and hair, with her destination firmly in sight.

She passes the old millers dam and remembers a childhood gone by too soon for her to have the answers she would need on this journey tonight. Moonlight flickering on the shallow pool of water, they would dance until they would hear voices calling them home. Just two innocents, just a girl and a boy melting into their reflections, not realizing that fate would lead them on a cruel path from that moment on. That was 14 years ago. She would go on to marry him and stand by him and carry his children in the pit of her belly for nine months at a time. She would continue her life of quiet desperation because she chose familiarity over fear.

Not on this night, though. Tonight she was free. Heading towards a promise unfulfilled. Towards betrayal and discovery. She was running away from the lie she was living, from her inability to admit that she had made a mistake. She was running from the safety of cold arms to the warmth of unknown ones. She could not survive the long, lonely nights alone. Her one weakness. The fatal flaw in the grand design of her life. The one the goddess didn’t posses. The other Radha was patient, never knowing when Krishna would return to her. Living through the pain of him marrying other women and still continuing to love. The love struck Job of Hinduism.

Some creature of the night shrieks and flies over her head, making her pause for a moment in shock and awe. She was at the bridge at the end of the village now. Beads of cold sweat began to form as a result of the clashing heat within and the cold night around her. The air hits the liquid clinging to her body to cool her down as wild strands of hair now flicker in the breeze, all seeming to head in one direction now; the direction she came from. The long tresses he so loved. The untameable locks her babies would cling to as she suckled them.

She hears a shuffling in the shrubbery nearby and startled, she turns around hoping it was him. It wasn’t. She loved how his dark skin would glow in the night, almost blue under the moonlight. Her Krishna. The one she couldn’t wait for unlike the goddess who was ready to wait lifetimes and more. It was now or never ever. She couldn’t go back. Wouldn’t. How could she, when she had finally tasted the heat and passion of this god-like man, go back to the mundane, coldness of a man who had no clue how to express his love? But what of your children? A voice from within seemed to be asking. They are his. Not mine. I carried them, birthed them and handed them over as his possessions. You are making excuses Radha. She sighs, not knowing how to answer her own questions. She had made a decision, she would stick to it.

Over an hour had passed since she came to the place he had promised to come take her from. The medicine man who had walked into her village, making all her contemporaries swoon inwardly. None would dare let it show, but Radha knew. The flushed cheeks, the half closed eyes. He would talk to them and they would listen to nothing. He would talk of his adventures through the world and they would sit there, listening to his voice, enwrapped in his postures. Imagining. Always imagining. She would not merely listen. She would hear the words. And he had chosen her. Over all others, it was her bed he had come to. Her arms he collapsed into in the heat of desire, longing to name every lock of her hair and every part of her soul. Longing to claim it as his own. And now she was here to let him. To let him take her where he will, to be his companion and lover on adventures still unnamed.

She bundled up her sari upto her thighs and squats on the floor. The noiseless night was no companion for an impatient woman. She drew careless shapes in the dirt with her fingers, letting in reach into her nails, blackening them, all the while imagining what it would be like to walk through this world with him.

And so she waited. And waited. And waited.


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The Missing Sandwich is proud to present her first guest writer, with a stunner post at that! I know you usually read him over at the black lullaby, but our very own author, ad-man & actor exraordinaire has written a post for my blog which I will share with you shortly. First the schpeel : this was done on a brilliant LSD trip which resulted in him writing about the paradoxical beauty & torture of love. Without much ado…. please join me as I present AUTOMOBILE!

You make me feel like an automobile and I know I must be tripping balls to think an automobile has feelings and the fact that I’m calling it an automobile is just so fucking lame. But that’s not even the point of the damn story. Yes there is a story. So I’m sitting here getting high with my friends, watching the moon (I even howled at it secretly when I was out on the balcony by myself), getting, high, did I!… say that already? The punctuation, marks; in this extremely long sentence are quite… trippy… yea. Anyway, back to the story. So yea, um, I was thinking about the kinds of cars that guys just fall in love with. Please be of the understanding that I’m talking about a car here and this is not some twisted metaphor that means something more. Right. So back to the car.

You ask any man’s man who his baby is and he’ll show you his wheels, but not the ones that take him to work, oh no, she’s far too important for that. It’s not the ones he goes partying with, she’s way better than that. It’s not even the ones he takes on those special weekends out of town, no, she’s too damned good for that.

She’s the engine he ignites when he wants to give the rest of the world a big ‘fuck you!’ She’s the gear he shifts into when he explores the part of himself that no one else will ever get to see. She’s the leather he sinks into when he thinks no one else is watching. She is his infinite statement of beauty. That is why she can be explored by him alone. That is why she can be experienced by him alone. With her he can be the boy that the adult world won’t let him be. With her he can be the raw lover his wife won’t let him be. With her he can be exactly who he is inside and not be ashamed of it. She is his release, she is his easel, the one on which he paints his joy and his love. She loves him no matter what and he knows it and he also knows that she’ll be true to him till her last fucking breath.

But he knows that this world is much more than just her. He knows about responsibilities and other grownup things. He knows that he’s got to leave this earth with something more than just a car to his name. So he keeps her locked away in the darkness, so she won’t distract him from the dumb charade he calls life. But when he wants to live, to really, really, really live… (pause for dramatic effect) that’s when he takes her out. He takes her on the spin of a fucking lifetime and then locks her up again until he’s got enough time on his hands to appreciate her for the fucking beauty she is. That’s his baby. That’s how you make me feel.

And now you know why you make me feel like a fucking automobile.

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Vampire | by Blood Lover 03

Vampire | by Blood Lover 03

You spend you life on a manic search for something to desperately make sense of your life and you tend to occasionally look back and wonder if it was even worth it.

Your fruitless searches beat you down, your shoulders browned by the garish heat of an angry sun that won’t let you dance in the moonlight.

Life was never meant for creatures of the night. Creatures that lurk in the darkness, waiting to pounce on happiness. To grab it. Possess it. For surely that must be the only way to have it. An elusive something that shies away from your blood lust.

And then when you’re not searching and stop for a little respite, life starts to happen to you. It’s when you stop hoping, stop wondering when meaning will dawn that it comes and grabs you by pure accident.

The possessor becomes the possessed. You find yourself in a carnal, primal dance to the rhythm of some ancient drum that seems to have found a home in your heartbeat.

You wake up and finally you can walk out into the light again. And all you feel is the soft warmth of the sun, the mellow tickles of the breeze.

You finally hear every little sound that comes together like a perfectly synced orchestra and you wonder why you didn’t hear them all this time.

The taste of blood no longer lingers in your mouth. The hunt is over. The hunted is now the hunter and you have let go and given in.

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The Weather Report

Watch the Weather Change | by Artilogia

Watch the Weather Change | by Artilogia

A girl awakens to murderous humidity and finds her naked spine feeling as though it were put to sleep on sandpaper instead of her soft cotton sheets. She thinks of him, as is always her first thought during these hot nights. She’d crawl under the shower for ten minutes and fall back asleep soaking wet, only to awaken an hour later feeling the same as she last woke. This time, she is irritated with him creeping his way through the darkness into her mind. She didn’t always love him. There were times when she thoroughly tired of him, even if she had spoken softly to him just hours before, thinking of the sweet taste of their next meeting. She wanted nothing more than that high, hedonistic feeling at all times and was just beginning to feel the irritation of it not being so. Sometimes, it just wasn’t love.


A child awakens to thunderstorms just after day was supposed to break. It is darker outside that necessary and he whimpers, wondering where his mama was. He found the multitudinous clang of raindrops frightening as he missed the gentle voice of his mother who was always there when he awoke. He pulls the covers over his eyes and waits for what seems like hours for her to come into his room and sooth his edgy nerves. Suddenly a sharp clap of thunder makes him half leap out of his bed. Something is amiss, he realizes. The usual early morning noises of his household weren’t just drowned out by the storm, he hadn’t heard them at all. Was she ill? Had she left him? The big old house was too frightening to rifle through in search of her. He wanted nothing more than to see her walk though his bedroom door just then as he began to realize that he may have to learn to make it on his own sometime soon.


A man awakens to the cold winds whistling through the corridors. Sometimes even howling like an old forgotten ghost, trying to remind the world of why she had remained so long after her body departed. The chill down his spine was far more than the cold world he finds himself in on this night so far away from home. He had come looking for reasons as to why he was pulling away and all he seemed to get were reminders of why he shouldn’t. The wind cried her name, howled her pain and reminded him of what it felt like when they were together. How could he force himself to feel something that just upped at took off? She walked off and now she wanted to run back in. Somehow in the process she became a reminder of everything in his past and he felt himself slipping away just as he was on the precipice of something real. He wanted nothing more than to find his way back to her and wondered why his insides kept going along this downward spiral yet again.


A woman awakens to a sunny day as the warm glow of the day creeps into through the gaps in her white lacy curtains. She smiles as she stays in bed for five minutes longer, luxuriating in thoughts of what the day would bring. Her newly shorn off hair would be perfect for feeling the sunlight on the back of her neck. Last night had been perfect as she lightly debates how she would plan the follow-through. Is it too early to call her? She half giggles in surprise as she finds thoughts of this strange, dark haired, wild-eyed woman who had been on her mind for days. After months of letting shadows wreak havoc in her mind, she was finally coming to terms with who she was. No more dark days, she firmly promises herself, letting thoughts of a first kiss spread through her system. Soft, gentle, ripe lips. What a change that would be! She wanted nothing more than to hold on to this feeling of knowing that she was not meant for conventional love affairs as she let herself bask in thoughts of the woman she was falling in love with.

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On the end... (by Niepatrzsie)

On the end... (by Niepatrzsie)

There must be something to be said of the effervescent adventurer. The one who manages to keep that smile on her face when there is no destination in sight, when the night has grown dark and even her purpose seems murky at best. The one who sometimes forgets to live each day as though it wasn’t her last. The one who leaves the comfort of her wicked ocean and ventures higher, to the very end of the world.

She stands on tip toes so the clouds could touch the tip of her nose as they move through her. She was where the world ends. The half-way point between heaven and the abyss. And she had come in search of what she turned away from.

She felt like Radha, stealing away from her cold husband’s bed at night to meet Krishna. Except that she was only stealing away from herself. Because she needed the refuge of his arms, before another lonely moon took to the skies. She turns back from the breathtaking sight and heads back to her car.

There must be something to be said of the one who breaks free. The one who ignores the call of her heart. The one who cares nothing for protecting herself. The one who will wantonly walk into your arms and stay there for as long as you’ll have her. If you’ll have her back.

A cold chill fell in the air as she tentatively moved towards where she knew he’d surely be. Bare-chested, letting the wind thrash through him, enjoying the feel of the biting cold on his skin. She inhaled sharply at the vision. Just over the next bend in the road she hoped, debating if she should put the shutters down and let the wind travel through her as well.

She would lie to him. Tell him that she simply misses him. Needs him. Longs for the lingering glow on her skin that only he could leave. And then when and if he takes her in his arms, she will pretend that it’s for more than just the magnetic pull of skin on skin.

There must be something to be said of the grown-up, love fool. The one who walks away from love to protect her heart. The one who is ready to offer love even when she knows that it will never be returned. The one who has learned to hold her tears and smile, just when her heart is breaking. The one who’ll never let him know.

She knocks the engine off and tentatively debates how she will make her entrance into his refuge. His secret place in the clouds. His precipice at the world’s end. Night had begun to fall.

She looked up, searching for the moon. But she still seemed to have a little more time. Closing her eyes and muttering a prayer to some unknown goddess, she walked forwards. Each footstep felt like it was setting off vibrations through the universe and ricocheting back into her soul.

There must be something to be said of the woman in love. The one who is ready to take the plunge again, even if life has given her every reason not to. The one who recognizes love when she finds it, even if all her stories before have been about loss and lies. The one who is ready to love if only she knew the other side of the story.

The front door was locked, so she decides to walk around to the porch at the back, where she was sure, she’d find him. The wind howling in her ears, darkness looming on the horizon, she keeps walking. She nearly slips along the muddy track, but picking herself up she continues, determined.

He is sitting exactly where she knew he would be. The music reached her ears in muted tones. She’d recognize the song anywhere. A melody made for solitude and expression. Eerie and haunting. A wild-child being tamed. A smile slowly etched its way through her, finally reaching the corners of her mouth. He looks up to see her silhouette walking towards him. And as she draws nearer, he stands up, letting the last nine thousand words of his story fall to the floor, abandoned & momentarily forgotten.

Their eyes meet as she slowly passes on a silent soliloquy towards him. To the exact point where their gazes met half way. Many truths are spoken, yet not a word is uttered. Suddenly a blackness sets in the world around them. And then they both hold their collective breath as they begin to lose sight of each other.

There must be something to be said.

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Belladonna's Tattoo by Shadow Wolf

Belladonna's Tattoo by Shadow Wolf

The darkness had been looming near the fringes of his life for quite a while now. Throwing shadows across the effervescent glow that only just came in and was already beginning to fade. He stands up from his foetal pose on the floor in the darkened corner of the room where the last embers still managed to remain. He dusts himself off, walks towards the door before she could reach him again. A shadow he can’t deal with. A sliver of it touches his neck as he gasps inwardly and his neck stiffens. Clenching his fists, he fights the urge to turn back and reach for her. Instead, he musters all the last ounces of strength within him. Reaching his hand behind him, he pulls the door shut and walks away.

On the empty streets now, as the sun begins to bid farewell to his world again. Shadows again. This time, his own. Three strands of himself, thrown across a world in which he felt he had no place because of the things he had done. Things he couldn’t help but give into. Always the good boy. Always the inner demon. The inability to resist the darkness. The one he wants to love. The one he should say goodbye to. The one he can love, so easily, but won’t. Three shadows, and only one leads him back to the light. The one he doesn’t realize can take him there.

I should love her. It’s the obvious choice. The one I can see myself with. All beauty and grace in equal proportions. And then I tell myself that it’s impossible. But I know the truth. She’ll never see me for me. And the even bigger truth, will I really love her just because I want to?

I must leave her. She’s not mine. She feels too much. And I fear I will begin to feel the same if I don’t walk away. I’m not one for handling the complications I blindly walk into. But the sweet, forbidden taste of her draws me further in. She is the darkness with so much light. And I just might fall…

I can be with her. She is sunlight with an alluring dark side. Sometimes our eyes would lock and a flicker of recognition passes, only to be forgotten all too soon, by the very next instant. And then I forget about the effect she had on me and move on again, until next time…

Three lives encircle him, placing him in the middle of a triquatra of potent desire. Which well will he drink of? Which circle will surround him in a never ending circle of life and light? And in which situation will it be the easiest. All easy. All complicated. And who will really love him for the man he is, over what he’s let them see of him? Who will he open the floodgates to? The hidden doorways to? The forgotten, darkened crevices to?

He wasn’t ready for the answers that were already beginning to form in his head. Instead he turns his back around and walks again. He opens a door he should have kept shut and lets the darkness consume him one more time.

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August Moon

Ocean Magic by Lunaya Wolf

Ocean Magic by Lunaya Wolf

She wakes up from her afternoon slumber & shakes the sand out of her hair like a dog just out of the water. Everyone had already begun to head in except for the few late evening swimmers who were just beginning to show up. All was quiet on this side of the horizon. Off season was the best part of the year. No busy days and busy nights. Just lazy afternoons in the sun and sensual nights by the ocean.

She turned to look back at the hotel as she stood up and dusted the last grains of sand from her bare thighs. He was sitting by the bar sipping a cool beer and smiled at her cat-like. She walked over to him and took a swig of his chilled bottle, letting the Lion cool her lips and throat before he could warm them up again.

When did you leave? She asked half accusingly, after pulling away from him.

You looked so happy sleeping out there, I didn’t want to wake you.

But I though we were going to take a swim together? She pouted.

He stood up, drained the last dregs of his beer, nearly slammed the bottle back down on the wooden bar counter and promptly carried her, racing to the ocean’s edge.

She didn’t laugh or giggle. She simply threw her arms around his neck and enjoyed the ride, looking into his eyes all the while.

Once far enough out in the water, he flung her in. She slammed into a wave and felt it thrash hard against her body. The pain and the rush of water in her nose felt almost welcoming. Finding her footing, she looked for him. He emerged from under a wave a few feet away from her, wiped the water back from his hair and started wading towards her, confident that he would find solace in her arms, even with madness of the ocean surrounding them.

He loved her like this, when it was just the two of them. And it always was, this time of year.

Every year, he would come to her in June and leave her in August. 3 perfect months, tuned into 33 over the years. And she would wait for him. Year after year. And when he was gone, he was gone. Not a word, not a sound. And she was left with her ocean and her memories to carry her through the dark nights. 11th time’s the charm, she realized as she breathed into his chest, soaked by a warm wave.

Tomorrow he would go home again. But for tonight, a perfect August moon was on the rise as the sun began to escape from her world more rapidly that necessary this time.

They climbed out of the water and stood holding eachother as the last rays began to disappear. She bid a silent farewell to him as darkness began to set.

Shower? He asks, invitingly?

He takes intricate care with her, making sure every last grain of sand was washed away from her hair. She just stands there, taking everything in. Normally she would partake in this evening ritual of theirs. She couldn’t bring herself to, needing to feel every last touch against her skin as he takes control. He doesn’t know, she smiles.

Noticing her expression change, he stops and looks into her eyes, questioningly. She shakes her head and motions for him to continue.

Later that night, they lay on the beach again, as Bob Marley wafted through speakers somewhere in the distance. Stir it up, little darling… A solitary lamp from outside a nearby bungalow threw shadows across them as he slept, cocooned like a child in her arms. She gingerly moves his arms away and gets up, ever-so-gently so as to not wake him.

She had work to do.

She took off back to his car. Taking out a pocket knife, she slashes his tires. A small smile of satisfaction creeps in. Shaking it off, she dropped the knife abruptly and dashed back out onto the sand. The cold grains felt welcoming as she began to shed her clothing until she stood alone, a few feet away from him, her lithe body bathed in the glow of an August moon.

11 years had been enough. Too much. A life of regret for a man who took and took and ran back to his wife each time. She let herself be taken by a man who forced her into dance of betrayal, making her leave everything she held dear at the door, every time he would come her way.

She looked up at the moon and silently wished him pain. He would have to stay longer and live with what he had created in her. He wanted to tame a wild beast, and instead he turned her more fierce in her determination this time around.

Her palms reached upto her lips as she kissed them both. She reached one hand out to the moon and blew the kiss upwards. The other one she turned, wanting to send it to him. Instead, she clenched her fist, keeping even that last goodbye close to her, refusing to let him have anymore.

Ready now, she walked out into the one source of comfort over the years. The waves almost stood up with open arms, welcoming her home. She had overstayed her welcome and now it was time to go back. Further and further out she went and when she was almost a mile out, she turned, looking back at him. But she couldn’t see him. All she could see was the moon, smiling down on her, thanking her for the goodbye. They were old friends. It was the August moon that she had seen when she came here first, like a solitary welcome party.

She turned away and dived in, going deeper down. Once near the ocean bed, she closed her eyes, opened her mouth and spoke a language known only by the chosen ones. Her long lithe legs vanished as her tail swished and swayed in the water, taking her further in.

It was over. She was going home now.

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