Lavender Nights — Chapter One

SASHA

It was in the moorland where I encountered the perplexity of the shattering rain and piercing lighting, as the fierceness of it all did not shake the trees nor the leaves that hung painlessly off them. The moorland was not a discourse of unwantedness, it was not a place where sinners walked or where heathens fibbed. It was where I the perfected anomaly to destruction yet forceful of succumbed peace, lay. Deep in the depths of the night I brushed the peeled skin of my fingertips over the accumulated pink, purple and greens of my knees and arms. It was where I prodded at the raised skin on my upper eyelid only until the satisfaction arose from the decadent puss that gushed out sordidly. The moorland was where I went derived of pain and suffering and only left when all recounts of evil left my body, and all signs of remembrance dissolved. Loneliness was my best friend, he nourished me and wept on my shoulder and even when Pegasus descended from the great heavens and perched gayly beside me, loneliness clutched my heart — the pulsating organ that survived smally in its echoed cavity. And when loneliness became cancerous, he decomposed ever so sweetly, tears dried on my shoulder and grasp loosening. But Loneliness loved me, knew me all too well to leave me so, he swallowed me in remission — the control over my body taken over entirely. Loneliness instilled in me my god forsaken traits…