withering away : lantana kayson

[chasing sunday]

<font face="Courier New"><font size="4"><center>justify me

make words of my
s c a t t e r e d
letters

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/virgos merlot</center></font>

[chasing sunday]

She could remember the gardens back in Eden; the sky-reaching walls with holes carved in different shapes and patterns. She could remember peeking through them in strange games that all girls play when young; peekaboo through heart holes or flipping through circle shapes in wild attempts to get away during games of hide and seek.

Everything about Eden seemed so far away. Yet, even with the distance in time, she found it hard to shake a lot of the memories--most of them the worst kinds, like the time she was stuck in a maze for three days. When she was found, her body was burning with fever and she could hardly breathe for the coughing fits that rattled her bones.

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And to think, she'd almost gone back there.

She would've lost everything that she worked so hard to gain, with one certain thing sticking out from all of the rest.

Jake was nothing she'd ever experienced before. A challenge all within himself, it took her quite some time to get the private man to open up at least a little--and that little opening was only a mere crack in the surface. It all started with a friendship and a friendship was the only thing she had ever wanted at first. Lantana never expected to tumble and fall, head over heels in a wild sort of love for the man. If there was a smooth transition from like to love, she never noticed it. She only noticed the way that her heart would suddenly thump with such a force in her chest that she swore it would explode. She noticed the way that her breath lodged right in the middle of her throat whenever he got too close or the way she found herself staring constantly at his mouth--wondering how his lips would taste. Not a slow transition. It all seemed to happen overnight.

And she almost threw it all away.

Even now, she was happy with the fact that he stopped her from leaving. She couldn't be more thankful that he'd found her on the night she was supposed to board the bus back to a place she swore she'd never return to in her life. It seemed on that night that the crack she'd created on the surface split even further. Change came quick and his affectionate side was something that took her by surprise. It was a side that she only got brief glimpses of; with a kiss here and a random hug there. But now, everything was totally different.

Lantana couldn't be happier--even with the strange disease that threatened to take her life in only a handful of years ahead. But she decided to stop thinking of that--worrying on the whens and hows to focus on the present.

[chasing sunday]

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You clean yourself up very well
So that it's hard to tell
A bomb went off in your soul
Even that wouldn't fill the hole

--virgos merlot/come apart
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---------------------------------

She tried to tumble the small business card over her knuckles, in between the thin structure of her fingers without dropping it. It never worked. Each time it would skip out of beat, tumble to the floor at her side. But with her determination, she picked it right back up and continued.

Her spine was to the couch, one knee up with foot flat to the floor while her other leg remained straight out. The floor wasn't so uncomfortable. She'd been sitting there for a while--lights out except for one that glimmered from the hallway in false hopes of warmth.

Last night's spree of too much alcohol left her with a massive hangover, it was no surprise that she stayed inside the apartment for most of the day.

Reflecting. Remembering. Recalling. It all revolved around the full day--the full holiday that she spent alone (she wasn't surprised). But not completely alone. She thought of Will, thought of his reaction when she told him the secret that she'd kept inside for so long. Thought of his questioning regarding a certain person with his name scrawled along the card that she tried to tumble through her fingers. Call if you're interested.

Interested in what? It had to be more than the simple dress that was bought--tucked away at the buyer's house. She tried to read the card in the darkness, but shadows hid the name, covered the number.

When she leaned forward, the card was tucked into her back pocket. Then, she rose to ease off into the bedroom.

She had to force herself to face the day.

<font color="#FFCC00"><font size="1">[ March 28, 2005 02:28 PM: Message edited by: sunday phantom ]</font></font>

<font color="#FFCC00" size="1">[ April 20, 2005 01:56 PM: Message edited by: sunday phantom ]</font>

[chasing sunday]

<center>
Water was running; children were running
You were running out of time
Under the mountain, a golden fountain
Were you praying at the Lares shrine?

But oh your city lies in dust, my friend

We found you hiding we found you lying
Choking on the dirt and sand
Your former glories and all the stories
Dragged and washed with eager hands

But oh your city lies in dust, my friend

Hot and burning in your nostrils
Pouring down your gaping mouth
Your molten bodies blanket of cinders
Caught in the throes ..

And your city lies in dust

--siouxsie and the banshees/cities of dust.</center>

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The sight of it brought memories--the walls already crumbling, half-fallen from the destruction that had taken place the night she'd left. The bus ride left her exhausted, and with the bus gone, she was left to stand on the outer skirts of a place she tried to shove far back into her mind. Eden. After what had happened with Jake, she simply had to get away. She wasn't planning on returning here; it was a spur of the moment idea to satisfy her curiosity on what the place was like now.

The gates were broken off of the hinges, now a wide arch of brick allowed free passage. She stood just inside, swallowing back a lump that felt lodged in her throat.

What once was thriving. What once was beautiful despite the ugly secrets that lurked behind tightly locked doors was all gone; dust and broken down building frames--slabs of concrete splotched the ground.

Then, she clearly remembered:

"Lantana! Lantana! Wake up! You have to hurry, there's been an explosion--all of the men in the West Wards have escaped. They're killing everyone! They've snapped! Hurry, hurry!" The voice urged her, along with prodding fingers that shook her shoulders and hips. At first, she was sluggish, but when the news really jogged into her mind she jolted up. Half-naked, in a white shirt that seemed like nothing more than rags--dragging to her knees, she was up and clutching the other girl while they fled the halls of East Ward.

What they saw when they spilled out into the late night air was nothing short of madness, murder, and mayhem--men and women screaming, fires licking upward in a desperate reach for the stars. Everywhere, bodies tumbled like dominos, toppling over from stabs or lethal blows to the head.

Those that were frightened were all moving in the same direction--no doubt, from the sky, it looked like a herd of animals on the move--perhaps running from the mouth of winter.

There was a sudden commotion around her, and a large hand ripped the girl out of Lantana's hold. Screams ripped the air, sharp and piercing--she watched as the brute shove the girl to the ground in such a force that it knocked her out. There was no help for her--no one could have peeled the muscle-bound man from the girl that he took (was taking in the worst way possible). And Lantana couldn't move. She was frozen, staring in a horror that had her eyes wide and the lower jut of her mouth trembling. She could hardly breathe. And she was on the verge of passing out when she felt someone lift her up, toss her easily over his shoulder.

When she woke up, she was underneath a tree, alone and shivering from the cold.

The sun was just rising.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Her cheeks were wet with tears when she finally pulled herself from the fall into a memory pit. She stared over what was left--what remained.

Then, she crumbled to the ground, wrapped herself up into a ball and let herself go. She'd never cried like this--not since that night. She'd never screamed so loudly, she'd never felt so emotionally torn and tattered and empty and lost--not since then.

And it was hours later that she was back on the bust toward the city, back to the hotel she'd checked into a moment before she'd taken a trip on impulse.

She wasn't sure what to do now.

<font color="#FFCC00" size="1">[ March 29, 2005 01:47 PM: Message edited by: sunday phantom ]</font>

[chasing sunday]

Everything had been patched up--but not after a few nasty rounds of words and accusations. It wasn't over--they were too bound and determined to let anything end. Making up was the best part.

Making up is always the best part, isn't it?

[chasing sunday]

Lantana might've been rushing the warmer nights of late spring and summer. But, she actually liked the way the cool air hit the bare spots of her skin, despite how it had her shivering at times. Mango swam around her in a loose dress that dipped low in the back with loose lace laddering her spine.

It was a walk like any other, rather late at night but so far she'd not had any sort of problems.

Until tonight.

Black and sleek, the sedan with its tinted windows had passed her by more than once. She never thought anything of it--someone simply enjoying the night like herself, but riding rather than walking. But she noticed that each time it passed, the car began to move slower and slower.

They could've been lost. The city was a maze and it was easy to lose yourself in it.

Still, she thought nothing of it. Even when the car finally stopped in the middle of the road--blocking her path because she was just preparing to cross from one curb to the next. At first there was nothing, just a thrumming purr of the idling car and her staring with a faint cock of her head.

The window didn't even offer a crack when she lightly stepped from the curb to edge closer. Still, she was thinking it was someone lost--nothing more, nothing less.

The car itself was cleaned to perfection; not a spot along the black shine of paint and she found herself staring at her reflection that bounced back crookedly from the back door; which suddenly opened.

"Oh, hello there," she greeted in a casual tone, smiling once she caught sight of the person tucked away within the back seat.

She did not receive a hello in return.

The rider was perfectly silent, and the last thing heard before the car sped away was her scream ripping the air and a squeal of tires. The car was gone. So was Lantana.

<font color="#FFCC00" size="1">[ April 06, 2005 10:41 PM: Message edited by: sunday phantom ]</font>

[chasing sunday]

It was the worst hotel that you could find in the worst part of town. The walls were stained with nicotine and darker shades--something that could've been blood.

"We're only here for a night, mon amour." His voice had her skin crackling and her stomach rolling, twisting over itself. "We have to keep moving, see. Who knows, we might end up in Paris." His grin was all wrong and in his eyes burned something she wished she never saw.

"And you know why we're here, really. So, why don't you make that call--go ahead, call." He left no room for arguement. Not with the way he jerked the phone up and thrust it at her (his eyes burning lethal, challenging her to even think about telling him no).

The phone shook in her hands as she dialed the number, waiting. And waiting. And, the answering machine picked up. There was a long beat of a pause before her voice quivered--shook violently through the line, "J--Jake, I can't see you anymore." Again, a pause--lingering for what could've been minutes. There wasn't a goodbye. She simply let the phone clatter back to the base.

She felt numbness creeping over her, but it did nothing to stop the way her stomach rolled as if she floated on rocky seas.

"Are you crying? Why the FUCK are you crying? I'm saving you from heartache, and you're crying. I'm saving you from what was going to happen sooner or later, and you're fucking crying. You hardly see him! He was two seconds away from leaving you anyway and you don't fucking see it!" He exploded, blew up, went on a rampage that had Lantana feeling something she'd never quite felt before.

Lantana finally met the concept of fear.

<font color="#FFCC00" size="1">[ April 08, 2005 12:06 PM: Message edited by: sunday phantom ]</font>

[chasing sunday]

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"Je veux ? l'int?rieur."

"But, we are inside, Jonah."

How easy it was for her to be reminded to remember to think before speaking; to bite her tongue whenever the need to keep words silenced unless she wanted to face a sudden rage that left more bumps and bruises than she'd care to count.

Lantana thought of the (too) brief moments she'd had where she'd escaped his eyesight--where she'd snuck out and had a couple of days without him--even while he was leading her by a fistful of hair out of the local haunt and down the streets. Everything about him, then, was rough; his hands were rough, his voice was rough, the very way he carried himself (while shoving and guiding her) was rough. Angry. No, worse than that--furious.

She couldn't understand how he could turn that off, how he could turn the anger on and off like a switch for a light. How he could change so drastically from one split second to the next.

And she was beginning to learn that it never took much.

He seemed strangely thrilled with the fact that she had placed the phone call to Jake--that she'd left him. And even when he laughed about that, it stunk of something cruel and twisted. He wouldn't let her cry about such things--and only talk about it when he brought the subject up. But, she found herself not wanting to talk about that, not wanting to think about it (even though that was the most impossible thing she'd ever tried to do).

Tonight, he slept with one arm thrown over her thighs, his cheek pressed against her belly. She busied herself by counting the cracks in the ceiling and waiting for another round of explosions.

[chasing sunday]

Exhausted. Sore. Battered and bruised and two beats away from completely giving up on everything. No matter what she did, or what she tried, Lantana found that there was nothing that could soothe the beast residing beneath Jonah's skin.

He had beaten her back into the skittish thing that she was before. Even in the thickest of crowds, she tried to keep her distance--watching everyone with paranoia flaring through the holographic sparks of her eyes--so sure that they were all out to get her.

But today, Lantana kept her distance from crowds. The bench she'd positioned herself dead center on to keep others from sitting next to her. So small, she had quite a struggle with the newspaper that was stretched out before her that was hammered with wind gusts to the point that she'd given up on reading. When she folded it down, when she finally tore her attention back to her surroundings, she saw someone that she didn't expect to see--ever again.

It was strange how her thoughts ran--it was so weird how he appeared like an angel in a black suit standing there with a steady gaze on her. She had the fleeting thought that perhaps he was there to make a collection. But with the way things were running with her, the way her life had become so twisted and fucked up, that would have been a blessing, an answer to a prayer that she'd sent out over and over during the course of the last few weeks.

But still, with the sight of him, she had the sudden urge to bolt. She wasn't sure what kept her in place. She wasn't sure what kept her from darting off down the stretch of sidewalk, but none of that mattered.

They both had avoided details on what had happened, with only the short version of everything tossed out into the air. Saved for a later time. A later date. Or possibly never at all. Her body and the language it held spoke volumes; the picture had been painted clear.

That night, she found herself back in his apartment, back into his bed. She'd never slept so deeply, so hard, and for so long as she had then.

[chasing sunday]

<center>
Tell me how you've never felt
Delicate or innocent
Do you still have doubts that
Us having faith makes any sense

Tell me nothing ever counts
Lashing out or breaking down
Still somebody loses 'cause
There's no way to turn around




Random acts of mindlessness
Commonplace occurrences
Chances and surprises
Another state of consciousness

Tell me nothing ever counts
Lashing out or breaking down
Still somebody loses 'cause
There's no way to turn around

Tell me how you've never felt
Delicate or innocent
Do you still have doubts that
Us having faith makes any sense

[tatu]
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<font color="#FFCC00" size="1">[ April 25, 2005 07:04 PM: Message edited by: sunday phantom ]</font>