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sarcasmo · 07-01-2003, 06:28 PM

Woo-hoo! I found some free time to actually spend at TFP and post lots of responses to threads all over. This I guess will be my thread to post random writings.

The Woman With Golden Hair

And there she stood, naked, her feet separated by maybe a foot, her legs straight, her back slightly arched -- illuding to a greater stature than she actually possessed. She stood in defiance in the portal of blue light. The light seemed to wrap around the smooth curves of her body and coat her, as a silk sheet, reducing her features to delicate shades of blue and black. She stood alone against the world, aware only of herself and her place within it.

Her skin became modest subtleties of blue as the light masked out the normal alabaster hue of her skin. Only her flowing hair seemed undisturbed by the cascade of blue light. Somehow it, alone, was able to maintain its original colour -- and so its golden locks stood as a symbol of rebellion; they refused to be ravished by the glare of royal brilliance.

Her eyes, usually a vibrant shade of azure, seemed to pale in intensity and were reduced to gray by the onslaught of light from the portal. The soft delicate line of her lips remained stoic as though she were a statue, but seemed the embodiment of life -- the single reason for being. Although she bore no obvious facial expression, her mouth and slightly raised cheeks seemed to hold an endless smile, unacknowledged by either provider or recipient, but understood by both.

Her golden blonde hair tapered to an end at her shoulders: thin golden threads tearing at the blue of her skin, threatening to reveal shreds of colour from her angelic body. Then, the shining blue luminescence stopped abruptly from behind her, and all was coated in a deep black. Still, though, her shape remained. Refusing to be forgotten, it stayed in the fine lines of the darkness, fighting not to be lost in the rich blackness that engulfed the room. The air in the room remained undisturbed, she did not move -- if she was taking breath then it was as if she was part of the air itself, never removing and giving back, just absorbing what she needed and disturbing nothing.

As the spectator lost sight of even her faintest curve, he thought to himself that surely such a woman could never exist. Then he thought that she did -- in the minds of every man on Earth. She was the perfection every man searches for, but few truly find. She was love incarnate. And as he found himself weeping on the ground where she had stood, he knew that he would never find her again.

07-01-2003, 06:28 PM	#1 (permalink)
sarcasmo Upright Location: Canada	Random Writing Woo-hoo! I found some free time to actually spend at TFP and post lots of responses to threads all over. This I guess will be my thread to post random writings. The Woman With Golden Hair And there she stood, naked, her feet separated by maybe a foot, her legs straight, her back slightly arched -- illuding to a greater stature than she actually possessed. She stood in defiance in the portal of blue light. The light seemed to wrap around the smooth curves of her body and coat her, as a silk sheet, reducing her features to delicate shades of blue and black. She stood alone against the world, aware only of herself and her place within it. Her skin became modest subtleties of blue as the light masked out the normal alabaster hue of her skin. Only her flowing hair seemed undisturbed by the cascade of blue light. Somehow it, alone, was able to maintain its original colour -- and so its golden locks stood as a symbol of rebellion; they refused to be ravished by the glare of royal brilliance. Her eyes, usually a vibrant shade of azure, seemed to pale in intensity and were reduced to gray by the onslaught of light from the portal. The soft delicate line of her lips remained stoic as though she were a statue, but seemed the embodiment of life -- the single reason for being. Although she bore no obvious facial expression, her mouth and slightly raised cheeks seemed to hold an endless smile, unacknowledged by either provider or recipient, but understood by both. Her golden blonde hair tapered to an end at her shoulders: thin golden threads tearing at the blue of her skin, threatening to reveal shreds of colour from her angelic body. Then, the shining blue luminescence stopped abruptly from behind her, and all was coated in a deep black. Still, though, her shape remained. Refusing to be forgotten, it stayed in the fine lines of the darkness, fighting not to be lost in the rich blackness that engulfed the room. The air in the room remained undisturbed, she did not move -- if she was taking breath then it was as if she was part of the air itself, never removing and giving back, just absorbing what she needed and disturbing nothing. As the spectator lost sight of even her faintest curve, he thought to himself that surely such a woman could never exist. Then he thought that she did -- in the minds of every man on Earth. She was the perfection every man searches for, but few truly find. She was love incarnate. And as he found himself weeping on the ground where she had stood, he knew that he would never find her again.