Friday, May 31

No-Prompt Thursday-Four, Bekkie Sanchez

Bekkie Sanchez

Event Entries 10:08 PM

I’m A Cheshire Cat

I’m a Cheshire Cat-I got no cares
Got a smile on my face
As I float through the air,

I’m not a normal cat
My fir is course and thick
I can be any color
And that’s not my only trick.

I’m a magical cat
With golden yellow eyes
I have a great big head
For my very small size.

From my nose to my tail
I’m a very special breed
Yep I’m very easy going
With very few needs.

In Wonderland I live
It’s a very special place
For a purple cat like me
With a smile on my face.

Yes, I’m a Cheshire Cat
And that is that.

Show Off Your Skills, 5/30/13, Pensador Louco


Pensador Louco

- - True Skin - -

There's a certain form of hungry I feel.

What it is I cannot tell you. It's not something you can point to, hear, see or measure. You can only be born with it. Grow up feeling it. Live with it. Tease it. Love it. Feed it. A hunger as big as the greed of men.

I look at the mirror one last time. My hair loosely falling over half of my face. The other half is somehow immerse in shadows, but is visible enough to let my smile catch all gazes around me. Oh, such starving eyes they usually are. Thirsty eyes. Staring at me like I'm some kind of a prize. Collectible. Manhood possession. I should bring a mirror with me.

I check on my dress. Dark. Tones of red predicting the urban night ahead of me. My entire silhouette as a flirting nightmarish invitation. A game so innocent. So filled with ancient roles. How could anyone resist?

They never do.

My pendant shines as I step into the car. Reflecting the goddess' light. I start the motor and the streets pass me fast, almost ignoring me. Almost. The city knows perfectly who I am. What I am. And if they could, all buildings and houses would bend in reverence. I forgive them. Their silent complicity is as good a tribute as a profitable nocturnal hunt.

My hunger grows, angry with me. It demands to be heard. It fights me. It's been a while since I last let it rant. Patience, I tell it. A little more, perhaps. The time necessary for an approach. A proposal. The space between the blink of an eye, forged in a fire hotter than any human heart, and the fire is all mine. Night is all mine.

I stop and take a breath of the night breeze, before entering the club. Slow-paced rock music. Low tones. Dark songs. Bauhaus decoration. Hard. Cold. The perfume of useless money, stupid childish power and male status traded for highs, kisses and pill kicks. My kind of place. An atmosphere so vile it makes my hunger grow to the point of a ravaging howl.

I enter. Alone. My presence as a pheromone. Like a halo of dark, hypnotizing field. Invisible, yet impossible to go unnoticed. The music didn't stop, though. That kind of cheap trick only happens in bad movies. But it didn't have to, anyway. I feel all eyes over me. Single ones. Married ones. A starvation as demanding as my personal hunger. Fever. Desire. Need.

I understand needs. My needs.

It doesn't take more than a drink. A man approaches. So confident. So trusty in his own power. He looks around as to be sure no one else will do the same. I'm certain he feels like an alpha dog. Shame. I didn't remember to bring the mirror. He lingers near me. Buys me a cocktail. Nothing strong, of course. I wouldn't want to ruin my appetite.

And then things start to hurry. Why does it have to be so fast? People simply don't savor a good first contact. It's always so brief. So shallow. A long repeated pick up line. Men must learn it all from the same teacher. A nod and a smile. Yes. I have my car, if you don't mind. No, I wouldn't mind going for a walk. And we leave. His ego so bright it makes him glide. All eyes still on us. On me. My hunger counting the minutes to be set free. The goddess welcomes us outside. She gives me permission to proceed to her realm. Into the night. Into myself.

Then, the plaza. Close enough. Private enough. Convenient enough.

Don't judge me. I'm not really bad. I have self imposed rules, you know? I always give them a chance to go. What can I do if they're too busy, trying to impress themselves, to take it? Too selfish and too stupid to know their place? And when it starts, it's all the same. They “want”. They “need”. They “demand”. They won't take no for an answer.

Too bad it's also too late. For me. For them. For him. For anyone in the plaza, though I made sure we were pretty much alone the whole time. No time for excuses, pledges or tears. Not even much time for a long scream.

I am here.
Born as a woman.
Baptized by my goddess.
Bathed by the moonlight.
And hungry enough to suffocate men's petty needs.

The city shivers with my howl. His face, once filled with arrogance, now is pale white with submissive and passive horror. He sees me as I really am. My true skin. My night. My hunt. My moon. I should have brought the mirror. Make him look at himself. All pride and presumption gone, turned to a mask of impotence and fear. What is he, after all? A failure of a man.

I am the daughter of Gaya.
Priestess of the silver light.
Bride of the endless cities.
I am home.
Sufficiently hungry to devour all mankind and their games.

And the night has just begun.

Prompt Tuesday-Image Six, Bekkie Sanchez


Bekkie Sanchez

Event Entries 3:16 PM

The Mudjikiwis

It was Summer & the Indian Brave was supposed to become a man this season, but he was afraid. He didn't like war & they were at war with the Chumash. It wasn’t a war likely to end soon.

Today would be the big hunt & tonight the ceremony feast where they would become men. He would become a man, be expected to fight with the others & take a wife. Every brave has done this since the people’s beginning and he was excited about leaving his childhood behind.

Strong and tall he was a well known figure in the tribe. He was used to fighting, he had been taught well by his father but his Warrior skills were not being questioned. It was his courage.

He hid this fact from the others with much bravado but eventually they were bound to find out. He pushed these doubts aside for now it was time for the hunt. He gathered his things from the lodge and went outside.

He walked over to the other young braves as they were mounting their ponies crying; "He, he, he!". They too, would soon be men and were very impatient about starting the hunt. They called out to him. Not to be left out he ran over, mounted his pony from behind & they galloped off towards their tribes hunting grounds.

His mind on the hunt he begun to relax. Nothing like a good hunt to take his mind off of war & fighting. He was pleased to be starting a family soon. They all split up into pairs for better coverage & safety in numbers. Just in case they ran into any Chumash raiding parties they'd be ready. He was hoping that wouldn’t happen.

They came out into a clearing, saw a stream and decided to water the ponies. He longed to tell his friend that he was afraid to fight in the war but that was not their way so he remained stolidly silent.

His friend was bringing his pony back out of the stream and he was already on his when he spied a small group of deer feeding up wind of them. Spurring his pony on he closed the distance between them quickly. They could still not smell him and if he was lucky he would bring home a meal of deer meat.

He was close enough and leap into action expertly fitting an arrow into his bow. He was close enough to pick one out now and he shot it. At the last second it veered sharply into a stand of thick trees but he had nicked it so he followed.

It was dark under the canopy of trees and after his eyes adjusted he could pick out the deer lying in the brush several feet away. It was very still and shafts of sunlight played through the branches. He was puzzled because it had not been a kill shot yet the deer looked dead.

He realized that his friend had been behind him and now was not. Surely he would figure it out because his people had full knowledge of this land. It was in their blood and it was their home. He summed this up quickly and was reassured his friend would catch up soon.

He was closer now to the deer and there was brush around it that had been disturbed. The deer was torn apart on one side and just as he was taking this in a huge wolf limped out from the underbrush.

“Brother please do not be afraid for I am injured and need this food.” The brave heard these words as plain as day and knew he was speaking to a spirit animal. The wolf was indeed injured, it looked like his leg was hurt. He was honored and answered in kind; “Brother wolf you may have this deer for you were the one who brought it to it’s death.”

“Thank you for your kindness young brave,” He answered; “I will not die from this injury but without food I surely would of sickened and died.” He continued; “For helping me I will give you my father’s tooth. It will help you to be brave and have much courage in battle.” And the brave took the tooth and thanked the wolf for it was a gift he needed.

He mounted his pony and left the wolf to his meal wondering where his friend had gone when he saw a rabbit out of the corner of his eye. It was close by and he drew an arrow and shot. It screamed once and lay dead. He urged his pony towards it and saw an Eagle on the ground nearby.

“I have a nest of young one’s and we need this food,” she cried. Another spirit animal, what were the chances? The brave was deeply honored, at this time in his life these were good omens.

“Sister Eagle you may have the rabbit for I will hunt another. Feed your young and live long over this valley.” The Eagle eyed the young Indian carefully and replied; “Thank you, for your kindness here’s a feather from my wing. It will help you be fast and fly through your battles.” The brave could hardly believe his ears.

He came out of his trance and realized he was watching the Eagle fly off with his rabbit. Just then his friend rode up on his pony and said to him; “I was looking all over for you and here you are goofing off in the woods. We will be the only one’s not bringing meat back for the ceremony!” His friend was a chubby boy who ate too much in his opinion but he was right.

They finished the hunt with no surprises except bringing down a wild boar which was delicious. They became men that night and the brave, no more a young man, was full of his thoughts of the woods.

The tooth glistened in the Sun as he turned it around in his fingers. The feather was soft yet bristly and large. Examining his treasures and thinking of the spirit animals already gave him strength and he felt something inside. What was it, really, could it be? Courage?

As soon as the word popped into his mind he felt it fully. The spirit’s of the wolf and eagle moved freely within him. Yes, he had courage and was not afraid! He was the ‘Mudjikiwis,’ a Cree Indian and would slay his enemies gladly with his brothers to protect the tribe.

He took a wife that season and built his own lodge. The Chumash attacked and he fought bravely with his brothers and saved the whole of the tribe with his fierceness and quickness in battle. The people sing songs of these battles to this day around our fires for he was the Mudjikiwis.

Mudjikiwis means eldest son in Cree.