WEP: Knotted

The empty basket lying before my mud-soaked shoes still held more than my heart. Its beating allows this hollow shell life, but she had stolen its essence years ago. Her lavender scent brought me closer. Her flowing hair shining brighter than any rainbow quickly wrapped me in her embrace. Her eyes. Those heart stopping ember eyes entranced my soul to hers.
Shackled to her words. Every one. To this day they haunt my mind, swirling around the questions that plague every conscious state of my being. Imperfection now the worth of my existence. The broken mold of this vessel cherished by no other. The vacancy within unable to entice even the most desolate. Forever forced to harbor the memory of her engrossing nourishment with no escape.
The brisk breeze extracts her scent from the remains. Each leaf capturing the majestic touch of her for a fleeting moment before allowing all of her to slip from my grasp. The definitive end with no resurrection. My exile of completeness dialing for my acceptance. Moments until her final achievement. Moments.
Time aches while shoving me from its coils. Hours. Days. Weeks. Years. Why? The weight of the question heavier than the tension within my legs and feet. Their imprint firm in the ground, resembling her concrete faith in us, but nature’s upcoming plans for the sky to cry upon our spot shall forever wash away signs of my loyalty.
A strand floats. The wind rams it and howls to force my hand. Instinct retraces her gift to me. Her only belonging as she traipsed through the snow. My finger her promise of endurance. Its faded blue outsourcing for greener pastures. It dissolves around my vessel like any first contact. Any since her.
Its fading remnants carry further toward Spring. The others clinging to a chance of sustainability. A simple desire. One pasted into being from birth. Use and existence favored over waste. A blinding concoction of hope and wonder. So blinding. So wasteful. Lost in favor of fabrication. Resembling the unraveling of her only contents.
Blues. Pinks. Yellows. Faded and propelled to caverns of despair. Love to dead skin upon their strands. A pairing of unobtrusive existence. Wisdom through bliss. Host and need. Provider and want. A clash of sustenance in chaotic confines. No yarn to spin for generations. Just yarn and death.
The limitless nature howls for release. Our limited story begs for conclusion. Opposing forces colliding in questionable yearning. Dismissal a content refusal. Her splendor attaching to an anvil and burrowing deeper within. Sweet release denied in nature’s action. Its suffering becomes my suffering. My entrapment now its entrapment.
Its river rushes and thirsts for her subtle body within it. Its ground longs for her bare feet upon it. The trees cry for her touch to linger upon their bark. My misery now its misery. Forest devoid and full. Problems for centuries to solve. Answers to elude my soul. Its soul. Our togetherness swept up in the tornado of her.
Delightful dancing breaking my toes and forcing knees to crawl before her natural awe. Inspiring those trapped in her thralls to aspire for mediocrity. The mellow freedom of her embrace. Fingers tracing skin. Nails desecrating back tissue and forever marking her brand. So much within and without. Without her.
Their dare continues while my thoughts flow greater than its river. The breeze sways her remnants to goad further. Now sprawled farther then my eyes can ascertain. Like a butterfly free of their cocoon. Blues. Pinks. Yellows. All enjoying harnessing the forest and its offerings. Despair lingers in those chosen to harness me. They long to unravel with compatriots, but their insistence devoid of logic. This is the only road to her left. It must be. It has to be.
A tear stains the prints beneath. The branch sways and creaks, tired of holding my stature upon it. Nature wants its soil fertile. Nature wants me to. Her remnants want me to. Her disappearance must indicate the same. One step. One more and her final gift to me shall be accomplished. An end to the memory of us forever.
Toes sting with anticipation. My bark carved essence drips, drips, drips into the basket below. Red. A color she refused for its deadly properties. Now the only color within her basket. Stained as she stained my soul. Drenched in her and nothing more.
Its chorus returns and signals for my demise. Dead within and dead without. Maybe with her. Maybe. Just maybe. Strength forces me forward. The branch snaps with a clapping cheer. The air rushes through my hair. Seconds. Mere seconds until my neck cocks, my body squirms in pain, and my eyes focus on the last moments of emptiness.
My arms reach forward. Her presence they long for. Seeking in belief. Searching in know. Her waiting is over. I shall arrive. My vessel twitches. My eyes focus upon her empty basket. Ants crawl within. An army. Focused on their queen. A queen to die for. An ideal harnessing the strength of the world. One adopted to me by her.
The colors fade. The forest cheers. The ants march to their queen. I drip essence while life flourishes never again. All thanks to her. Her and her remnants. Unraveled to stretch across the forest and lead her back to my side. Unraveled to knot her in place until my hands reach her. Unraveled only to be bent around my neck. Her remnants became my remnants.
My life’s yarn has ceased. Blurry. Distance. Arms reaching. Could it be? Life hurts no more.
Word Count: 934
That took a bit of a turn at our sea. Was going to go lovey dovey but then that came out. Guess the morbid stuff wanted to stick around one more time. Thoughts?
Enjoy life, forget the strife.
34 Comments

Snowcatcher
2018-06-18 02:53:37 - Edit - Reply
Well, you had me at yarn… You definitely do have a dark side. I thought this was going to be way different!!! I could see the colors and feel the despair, however. So very effective in that respect. It’s funny to me, though, how all these challenges seem to bring out the darkness in you. 
Pat Hatt
2018-06-18 09:34:26 - Edit - Reply
haha was going for light and lovey, but yeah, off to the dark side I went. Hmmm maybe WEP is bad for me. At least the cat will keep it light.

Elephants Child
2018-06-19 01:53:31 - Edit - Reply
Definitely dark. And evocative.
As your WEP posts always are.
As a challenge perhaps you can keep your Halloween post light and frothy (says a person who has thought about your posts in the dark hours more than once).

ellis moore
2018-06-19 02:37:24 - Edit - Reply
This was a brain full of adjectives.
Is Love Not War and War love?
Without Darkness The light would blind our souls.

Elephants Child
2018-06-19 03:05:42 - Edit - Reply
PS: Saying that it is dark, and that your stories stay with me is not a criticism. At all.

Pat Garcia
2018-06-19 09:16:11 - Edit - Reply
Hi,
You pulled me in with the second paragraph…”Shackled to her words…
I felt like he was contemplating joining her and at the end, you didn’t disappoint me.
For me, this is the sad end of a person who has lost more than love. He has lost his soulmate and doesn’t believe in second chances or meeting the second soulmate. No matter what happens or whom he would meet, they would not be able to compensate or take her place. Therefore, a very suitable ending.
Shalom aleichem,
Pat G
Pat Hatt
2018-06-19 09:36:43 - Edit - Reply
Elephant – a challenge to go light, hmm I’ll have to channel the cat haha
Ellis – light could be truly blinding if that was there was indeed
Elephant – That I knew.
Pat – Yeah, lost in only the one, as some people do.
Yolanda Renee
2018-06-20 01:43:23 - Edit - Reply
Poetic, sad, scary, beautiful, horrific and extremely good! You kill it each and every time! Love it!

Denise Covey
2018-06-20 04:20:06 - Edit - Reply
Hi Pat!
In a world where editors want dialogue and physical action in most paragraph, this was refreshing, even though deliciously dark. You do dark so well, I wouldn’t lighten up any time soon. Love the descriptions. And the short sentences, sometimes one worders, pulled me in. I like this style of writing. And this style of storytelling.
Don’t change anytime soon, Pat!
Thanks for unravelling this yarn for WEP, Pat.
Denise
dolorah at Book Lover
2018-06-20 05:32:18 - Edit - Reply
Beautiful, evocative, poetic. Lovely imagery. Well done Pat. I think I will be just a little scared next time I’m wandering in a forest, lol.
Pat Hatt
2018-06-20 09:33:21 - Edit - Reply
Yolanda – rather kill it here than in real life, they frown on that lol
Denise – shall never change at my sea. Pffft to conforming to the norm and such.
Dolorah – just avoid wandering the forest, much better haha

Nilanjana Bose
2018-06-20 10:14:09 - Edit - Reply
‘Time aches while shoving me from its coils. Hours. Days. Weeks. Years. Why?’
Poetic and hypnotic. Liked the darkness and the vivid descriptions and the bit above particularly. Time aching has a poignant immediacy that is heart stopping. Thank you.
Pat Hatt
2018-06-20 10:22:43 - Edit - Reply
Time aching sure has that indeed. Glad it was enjoyed.

C. Lee McKenzie
2018-06-20 15:55:05 - Edit - Reply
I like how you expanded the sense of loss from him to the world around him. “Its river rushes and thirsts for her subtle body within it. Its ground longs for her bare feet upon it. The trees cry for her touch to linger upon their bark. My misery now its misery. Forest devoid and full. Problems for centuries to solve. Answers to elude my soul. Its soul. Our togetherness swept up in the tornado of her.”
These were my favorite lines.

Crystal J
2018-06-20 19:51:38 - Edit - Reply
My dark side came out when I wrote my post for this challenge as well. This piece is the most poetic, beautiful things I have read today! It’s riddled with emotion, and each emotion has a connection to sights or smells.
Thank you for sharing!
Pat Hatt
2018-06-20 20:14:01 - Edit - Reply
Lee – thanks indeed. The world around sure brought forth.
Crystal – out they just come haha glad it was enjoyed.

Olga Godim
2018-06-20 20:30:22 - Edit - Reply
So gloomy and hopeless. “The colors fade.” Yeah, that one little statement encompass the entire story.
Pat Hatt
2018-06-20 22:29:35 - Edit - Reply
That it does indeed.
DG Hudson
2018-06-21 01:11:20 - Edit - Reply
You have a great way of showing us the way the dark creeps up on a person when they have a gap within. The dark fills that gap. I like the short sentences and the layering of what was and what is in the present. I floated along on all the descriptions of emptiness and longing but the end still surprised me.
I like reading your WEP entries, they stir up new ideas. . .
Pat Hatt
2018-06-21 09:40:04 - Edit - Reply
Good to stir things up indeed. The dark can sure creep in when one gets really low.

L.G. Keltner
2018-06-22 02:19:56 - Edit - Reply
This is both beautiful and dark. Hauntingly lyrical. Well done!
Pat Hatt
2018-06-22 09:35:21 - Edit - Reply
Thanks indeed!

Mary Kirkland
2018-06-22 17:43:11 - Edit - Reply
Wow, that one really pulled me in. I think I liked this one the best of all that I’ve read from you.
Pat Hatt
2018-06-22 20:19:56 - Edit - Reply
A winner at our sea, works for we.
Christopher Scott
2018-06-23 01:50:24 - Edit - Reply
A quick-paced tale of a life unraveling.

Denise Covey
2018-06-23 05:03:45 - Edit - Reply
Came by for a second reading. Enchanting in its dark way…
Pat Hatt
2018-06-23 09:39:11 - Edit - Reply
Chris – down it can go
Denise – times two works for our zoo!

Jo-ke Adura Ojo
2018-06-23 11:25:34 - Edit - Reply
I was breathless reading this.
Dark, dark, beautifully dark, Pat.
Poetic and certainly unraveling.

Jo-ke Adura Ojo
2018-06-23 11:28:44 - Edit - Reply
Hope my first comment got through, Pat.
Pat Hatt
2018-06-23 12:01:19 - Edit - Reply
Hopefully you caught your breath, wouldn’t want to be responsible for that lol
Yep, went through. Glad it was enjoyed.

Deborah Drucker
2018-07-02 23:27:21 - Edit - Reply
He hangs himself in his despair. I wondered about the bowl beneath catching his blood like a human sacrifice.
Pat Hatt
2018-07-03 10:34:47 - Edit - Reply
Never know about the bowl.

Hilary Melton-Butcher
2018-07-18 01:37:48 - Edit - Reply
Hi Pat – that was really dark … it felt surreal … as the conclusion of the yarn wove its tale in blues, reds, purples hue – giving freedom … you finished it -cheers Hilary
Pat Hatt
2018-07-18 08:06:30 - Edit - Reply
All woven as one. Finished indeed.

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