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Creative Writing 1
09/18/07

The cloth rippled along her arms like moonlight ripples along the crests of waves, and I could not look away. The breathtaking beauty of it captured my eyes and would not release them. I was spellbound, held by the combination of black hair on silver weave. I knew this was not the way it was supposed to happen. I was supposed to only look at her face and fall in love, but my eyes saw not her face but the brilliant shroud she wore. Never taking my eyes off of it, I followed her out of the teeming party and down a twisting corridor, barely noticing the shapes of other men beside me. As if in a trance, I walked, noticing more of the woman herself as I went farther. Her hair was a black so deep it seemed as if it was an abyss, absorbing all light around it. It was clean and dressed but rough, as if she had been tussling with a particularly fierce opponent that night. I could not place the color of her eyes, shifting as they were from green to brown to vivid purple, but they were full of a radiance that almost rivaled that of her clothing. However, I could look at her face for only a short time before I was drawn back into the undulating folds of the cloak. It absorbed me, seemed to be the source of my very life at that moment.

After a time, though I could not tell you exactly how long it was, we seemed to have reached our destination. The woman turned toward a richly colored mahogany door covered in incredible carvings, scenes of life and death: half-seen animals hunting among twisting vines, vaguely human skulls leering from among the gnarled bark of fallen and dying trees. The woman smiled the same grotesque smile as those creatures, though I barely saw it, blinded as I was by the mesmerizing sheen of her attire. She opened the door, beckoned me in, and again I was dimly aware of others around me. I quickly forgot them as I forced my way into the room. All I saw was the shimmering silver. I was enveloped by it. I could feel my face twisting as a wave of pain so complete it was almost pleasure ran through me, until I felt nothing, saw nothing, knew nothing but the deadly vividness of that beautiful woman.


Submitted: September 17, 2007

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