Rogue's Fever II
These things are what happens when I get bored with my phone in my paws. In eal life -and- in these little short stories... I think that each one will have a different emotion as their theme. This ine's theme is longing or desire. Enjoy, and if I sound high, I might have taken too much catnip ;).
(joking, this cat's sober)
Rogue's Fever II School is never a fun thing. I exhale my patented sigh and walk about the hallways. School's almost over, isn't it?The clock says so... It begins to wobble in my vision, the hands moving backwards and forwards at the same time. It's suddenly midnight or noon, a moon as big as Saturn fills my vision and I fall into it, the now-familiar feeling of fever enveloping me like a worn security blanket. Treasured. Dear. Always protected. Or is it always trapped? My phone finds it's way to my paw and a note opens as if on command. Letters fill the screen as I plunge through the gaseous layers of moon, the rings rotating around it like the hand of the clock I'm still staring at, yet not seeing. He catches me. He caught me. A sense of longing, not intense. A simple feeling of 'I want to be with you. But it's not that urgent'. It lives in the back of our minds, we feed it, nourish it. It loves us! The feeling is like something cradling you as if you were as fragile as glass. Carefully enough to make sure you don't break, but attentively enough so it would never drop you. "Hi." I look around, the smallest of headaches staring behind my eyes. It's painful, yes. But it's that special kind of pain that turns into something good... The moon looks at me, and then... It changes. It turns into a love. Am I in love with love? Eternally? Forever? Sans morte? Maybe. Am I really here, floating through the cosmos, a dreamer? A wolf looks at me. Gray. Smiling eyes. Him. Who is he- I know him. And I hate him. He had left me but he's here. Again. Why? What can he possibly prove to me? That he loves me? He left. And so I leave. I turn nimbly in my bubbly cosmos, it's easy, and just float away! The cosmos. What I wonder, is it my thought? Let's search for souls, soul-searching, I had found one; my own. But it did not love me, but I did love it. So I set it free. And it never came back. Just like him. The cosmos, it shimmers, it warbles, it squiggles. The headache grows a little, the small pressure behind my eyes deepening. It's not so bad this time, is it? The clock, the moon, Saturn, they all strike eleven, they had just struck twelve. The wolf follows me, walking where I float. What's his deal? Does he truly still love me-NO! He can't. He's beyond that. The headache heats up, where is it going?? Up up and away, to where there is no place like home? Where troubles melt like lemon drops! I love lemon drops... The wolf does too. I stop in my float. He still likes them, and so do I. What if we're still in love but I'm the one who is crazy? Skepticism! Avast! I love the stars too... Float up towards the stars with me, and we shall see what it's like to be wild and free, won't somebody come? The wild is there. He's coming to fly with me. It's a dream, I know but I wish I remained ignorant. Somewhere, far away, my phone is running low on batteries as I sit, spacing out to the tick tock of a timepiece mounted on the wall, my fingers smudging the meticulously-kept screen as they fly over the little keys on the screen. Flip it on it's side, less typos! I loved him like there was never anything to be loved before him, because for me, there wasn't. I had never loved. I wanted to do it right. But alas he left me here, dangling in the void with Luna knows what else. Luna. Moon. Clock. Saturn. Cosmos. Wolf. Tick. Flying. Tock. Falling. Fever. Headache. Bells. "Rpgue." says he, and he reminds me why I love him. Present tense. But I grow tired of waiting. My time, five months, the better part of spent, waiting for him. I'd do it again if it meant I could hold him one last time. Logning. Desire. Want. Wishing. Dreaming. Fantacizing. I chuckle and the sound echoes. The wolf catches up to me; I have stopped. "Walk with me," he says. 'No,' I think back to him. 'I'm waiting for someone.' "Who?" His head cocks to the side. Picturesque Canine Confusion. I imagine my next word as a whisper, gently clouding up the air on a chilly winter morning befre floating away to it's destination. 'you.' Our lips get closer, they are about to touch. I'm leaning towards him as he is leaning towards me. Mutual acception. Love? So close... The bell rings. I am bathed in cold sweat. My phone is in front of me. It has died. At one point in time I would have concluded that my heart was like my phone. Dead. With no charger cord handy. Maybe not anymore. I still need to call a ride home. Shit.