Saturday's Storyteller: "My bones glow in the dark."
by Belinda Roddie
My bones glow in the dark. I can feel my blood pulse like waves. When the moon is full, the tides are higher, and I am brimming with fireflies.
I hide underneath the clusters of brush, the greens that match my incandescence. Heated over centuries of man's discovered kindling, I am a firework ready to burst into flames. But for now, I merely glow.
Look at the silver rings bound to my fingers. Look at the ruby tattoos on my arms. I am all metalware and jewelry now, and I bleed liquid gold when the blade cuts too close. Look at the way the sunrise scalds me. I am pinks and purples when the day is done. But when night falls, I light up like lightning without a storm. I cast off my own reflection, yet still, I glow.
I am soaking in moonlight until it brands my skin. I am stories and cautionary tales in a sack. Hold me close to a lamp, and I bubble like lava. My heart pumps out the ocean. I am careful not to fall and shatter the ivory that sends electricity to my skull.
See how men want to tie me down to a metal bed, stick needles in my arms and test my genetics? They will strip the precious stones and minerals from my body, until I am nothing but a fading bulb. See how women find me valuable only on a surface level? I have been kissed by male and female alike, but their lips are so cold compared to my unyielding warmth. They leave like burnt out sparks, but still, I glow.
I have driven trucks down coastlines until the fuel becomes ash. I have walked a thousand miles toward the ends of the earth. Tonight, I perch on a stone that goes from obsidian to crystal. It churns out its own gleam just from my sitting upon it.
One day, I will fly upward and turn into a star. I will gleam brighter than the slowly dying sun. My bones will dissolve into hydrogen as I am rebuilt. But my pyre is not prepared yet, so for now, I merely glow.
This week's prompt was provided by Daniel Bulone.
My bones glow in the dark. I can feel my blood pulse like waves. When the moon is full, the tides are higher, and I am brimming with fireflies.
I hide underneath the clusters of brush, the greens that match my incandescence. Heated over centuries of man's discovered kindling, I am a firework ready to burst into flames. But for now, I merely glow.
Look at the silver rings bound to my fingers. Look at the ruby tattoos on my arms. I am all metalware and jewelry now, and I bleed liquid gold when the blade cuts too close. Look at the way the sunrise scalds me. I am pinks and purples when the day is done. But when night falls, I light up like lightning without a storm. I cast off my own reflection, yet still, I glow.
I am soaking in moonlight until it brands my skin. I am stories and cautionary tales in a sack. Hold me close to a lamp, and I bubble like lava. My heart pumps out the ocean. I am careful not to fall and shatter the ivory that sends electricity to my skull.
See how men want to tie me down to a metal bed, stick needles in my arms and test my genetics? They will strip the precious stones and minerals from my body, until I am nothing but a fading bulb. See how women find me valuable only on a surface level? I have been kissed by male and female alike, but their lips are so cold compared to my unyielding warmth. They leave like burnt out sparks, but still, I glow.
I have driven trucks down coastlines until the fuel becomes ash. I have walked a thousand miles toward the ends of the earth. Tonight, I perch on a stone that goes from obsidian to crystal. It churns out its own gleam just from my sitting upon it.
One day, I will fly upward and turn into a star. I will gleam brighter than the slowly dying sun. My bones will dissolve into hydrogen as I am rebuilt. But my pyre is not prepared yet, so for now, I merely glow.
This week's prompt was provided by Daniel Bulone.
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