Waiting in the darkness…

“Prostitutes. That’s what I miss. Prostitutes.”

In response to M’s weekly story starter prompt of “It was all an illusion hidden by the lack of light.” I did this as a kind of stream of consciousness kind of thing. No planning, just waffle with no real purpose other than to get back to putting letters on the page after a while away. To be fair you can just about swap the word prostitute for any profession. Maybe clowns. Or accountant. Maybe not female jockeys or darts players. meh…

______________________

“Prostitutes. That’s what I miss. Prostitutes.”

“What? What are you talking about.” Came the reply. After a short pause the voice continued, heavy with the air of resignation and the agitated realisation that had he not replied, then he could have avoided the conversation all together. It was seemingly too late now though. “Why are you talking about prostitutes?”

“Well you asked what I miss the most, and having given it some thought I have decided that I miss prostitutes. More than anything.”

A long sigh punctured the silence that followed. There was a vague recollection of a question some when ago. Certainly not recently. Maybe a lifetime ago. Many lifetimes? It was very hard to tell really.

“Dare I ask why, ” the second voice asked, “in a world of infinite possibilities you have decided that the thing that you miss the most, is prostitutes.”

“So, are you asking?” Said the first voice, a measure of something nearing excitement in his tone. Perhaps it was the talk of prostitutes, of even just any talk at all, but after what seemed an awfully long time it felt good to get it off his chest.

“Fine, Yes, I’m asking. Why prostitutes? It’s not like we’re going anywhere is it,” said the second voice. “I shall indulge you this once but then it’s back to saying nothing. Understood?” A moment, or something akin to a moment. It may have been longer, passed before he continued. “And to be certain, you don’t miss your wife or children? Your parents? Maybe your dog? Did you have a dog?” He wondered whether he himself might have had a dog. He thought maybe he might have. He remembered throwing sticks. Or were they spears. Maybe both.” You are absolutely certain that here in this place, a forever away from anywhere, the single thing you miss above all else is a prostitute.”

“Well not just any prostitute.” Said the first voice, now fully engaged with the conversation and his mind firmly fixed on the idea of prostitutes. “A very specific prostitute. With a very specific set of skills.”

Fully expecting a question as to a description of the very specific set of skills the first voice waited until the second voice reluctantly relented.

“Skills?” he asked, his efforts to seem even slightly interested falling very short, but it was all encouragement the owner of the first voice required.

“Oh yes. She was very gifted. She spent time in Mesopotamia apparently, and you know what they say about those Mesopotamian girls.”

The second voice did not know what they said about Mesopotamian girls at all. Or in fact where Mesopotamia was. or is. Or will have been.

“Oh yes” he replied, obviously lying, “they say that …” his voice trailed away.

The first voice laughed loudly.

“You have no idea do you! You’ve never had a Mesopotamian girl have you!”

The second voice sighed again. This time a little louder. If it was possible to muster a passive aggressive sigh without being absolutely certain of the exact state of one’s nose, then this was a sterling effort.

“Oh they are the best. the very best! By far. I knew a trader who swore by the Greeks you know, and once met a Babylonian sailor who could often be found hanging out of the back of an Egyptian, but no, I told them both no, no way at all were they able to compare to the carnal delights of a Mesopotamian prostitute.”

A short time passed, and somewhere in the distance there was the sound of a siren. Or was it a horn. Probably a horn.

The owner of the second voice was trying to remember if he had a dog still, and was now certain that in fact there were spears and not sticks he had been throwing. A dangerous thing to mix up he thought to himself when you have a dog. If you have a dog.

He really wanted to remember.

“Are you listening?” asked the first voice. “Did you hear what I was saying. about the prostitutes?”

The horn sounded again.

“Did you hear that horn?” the second voice asked.

The first voice laughed loudly, his voice now full of memories and longings. “Ill tell you about a horn allright! There was this time in Meso…”

“Shut up!” said the second voice, “”Listen. there’s a horn. I think it might be time.”

“Time? Time for what? Prostitutes?” His laughter roared into the darkness.”

“No. Time. Time to go.”

“Go where?”

“Did you pay no attention at all when you got here. You don’t remember what they said?”

The first voice felt a suddenly ache in his back and reached for where, an eternity ago, he vaguely recalled a searing pain .

“Everything okay?” Said the second voice. “You remembering now are you? What they said? Where we are. Why you’re here.”

“Fucking prostitutes!” the first voice exclaimed violently, “fucking Mesopotamian prostitutes!”

“Aah so you do remember,” said the second voice. “All coming back to you is it. Well if that came as a shock you might want to prepare yourself because I don’t think this next bit is going to be pleasant at all…we are fucked though, if that’s any consolation”

#SalemVerse Prompt #18 – Flashing Lights

‘Flashing Lights’ was the prompt.

Each blink and flash illuminates

laid bare, the hunger shown

then lights fierce glare fades slow lips wet

and in the dark alone

a hunger deep, a need to fill

his thirst to satisfy

he must succumb and cannot wait

without a thought to why

he lusts and needs and craves and wants

then light once more shines bright

he stands before the fridge quite hungry

in his underwear at night

#SalemVerse Prompt #17 – Malevolent

‘Malevolent’ was the prompt.

He taps into his darker self, malevolent thoughts he seeks

yet mostly struggles them to find and darkness then to speak

yet deep he digs perhaps to find the things he keeps well hid

and in a moment clear a rage he heeds the prompts dark bid

 

Gives voice to things he’d like to do and thoughts he entertains

of zombie infestations seeing creatures eat friends brains

he shoves a colleague down the stairs, into a river does kittens throw

and finger bangs a woman that he doesn’t want to know

 

He defecates outside a school, and then punches a horse

makes pranks calls to widower and mocks the dead of course

then dreaming of the things he like to do and those he hates

he peers in through your window, on your roses masturbates

 

 

kittens drowned and puppies kicked he revels in the spite

and chokes his wife with trembling hands as she sleeps through the night

All day he entertains and dreams and lets the darkness out

into a cinema he runs “Allah Akbar” shouts out

 

And then with poem on the page the darkness does recede

and bids you keep his secret and the darkness not to feed

with smiles and laughs the rage does pass and normal it returns

he presses publish, smiles and winks and to the next page turns

#SalemVerse Prompt #14 – Disembodied Voices

‘Disembodied Voices’ was the prompt. Be damned with structure I say…

Night cold wraps arms so tight round

and smothers hope and cackles sharp

as cuts run deep and fears run wild

and madness on the wind returns.

 

Feet raw back bent and furrowed brow

hands clasped tight around ears

rank voices beg come home to where

you left us deep beneath the soil

 

And parting breath  mists in the night

nails scratch frantic at the earth

and laughter fills the darkest night

dragged screaming away at last

 

#SalemVerse Prompt #12 – Melody

‘Melody’ was the prompt

She sits and waits, atop the waves, and calls into the night

 

 

sweet welcome words, and promise sweet, calls travellers to her light

poor weary souls, so far from home, melody spans the seas

port in the storm, her welcome arms, to do with as she please

and in her grasp, her lilting tune, eyes search for welcome land

and hopes there dashed, and vessels smashed, beneath the waves now damned

 

 

#SalemVerse Prompt #10 – Lucid Dreams

‘Lucid Dreams’ was the prompt

 

As midnight comes, heart filled with fright

Deep sleep invades with force and might

darkness comes and steals thoughts white

and fills dread mouth with screams

 

And knuckles white and fists gripped tight

all is consumed and hope so sleight

a future dark a loveless plight

devoid of suns bright beams

 

 

As dawn approaches cold and bright

throws off the shackles of the night

and black relents, gives way to light

all just a dream it seems

 

Yet soul corrupted, rancid blight

all joy is stolen, no delight

to head and heart foul beasts invite

and succumbs to her dreams

 

 

 

 

#SalemVerse Prompt #09 – Ravens

For this one we got a word and a picture to play with.

Like shards of restless blackened soul

Take flight and to darkness return

And tears of blood wept, never whole

And doomed to watch and never learn

For torture sweet her only goal

Finds joy in watching embers burn

Eyes red as flame heart black as coal

She comes to feed and love to spurn

#SalemVerse Prompt #07 – Disturbed

The challenge was to use the phrase “Disturbed” in a piece.

Wide eyed, seduced by ravenous red lipped mouth filled with rancid lies

promises made with soft sweet word

and years pass as time quickly flies

and rotten flesh writhes in filthy beds and mind so frail disturbed