Another excerpt from my new novel- Fata Morgana. Hope you enjoy reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Wikipedia defines Fata Morgana as: An unusual and complex form of superior mirage that is seen in a narrow band right above the horizon. It is the Italian name for the Arthurian sorceress Morgan le Fay, from a belief that these mirages, often seen in the Strait of Messina, were fairy castles in the air or false land created by her witchcraft to lure sailors to their death. Although the term Fata Morgana is sometimes applied to other, more common kinds of mirages, the true Fata Morgana is not the same as an ordinary superior mirage, nor is it the same as an inferior mirage.
From Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fata_Morgana_%28mirage%29
She stands before me where ocean meets sand, part angel, part demon, all woman and child. Because of this, how I got here, where here was even, no longer seemed to matter, only that I was here and so was she.
Honey-brown skin tanned by endless summer suns, long blond hair, wafts of which hang in front of her eyes, full lips and a broad forehead. She is hard in all the places meant to be hard and soft in all the places meant to be soft.
Clad in skin-tight blue jeans and a light gray tee, she stands with her legs squared beneath her shoulders, her head tipped forward ever so slightly, watching me, her eyebrows slightly raised. Her arms hang by her side relaxed, but her fists are clenched.
Even at this distance I can tell she smells of sunshine and rain, a young girl’s flesh after tanning in the sun, slightly spicy, slightly salty entirely exotic, like three quick shots of tequila and a warm summer’s breeze.
I am reminded of the song Thunder Island
In this time and place she anchors me, reminds me that I am not alone. She also brings to mind that I am not the last; that someone suffers with me, is going through the same trials and tribulation. (That’s what I would call them anyway, the farmhouse, the town and the tunnel… all those ‘day-tripping’ adventures in-between.)
The thought makes me weep.
In this time and place she is a godsend, an answer to an unasked prayer. It wasn’t just me living again all by myself and just for me. There was more, so much more. The universe was a huge, huge place and her being here reminded me of that
For I knew her
For what seemed an eternity we just stood there, I’m looking at her; she’s looking at me, both of us too terrified to move. One word and she might vanish. One blink and I might end up being all alone again.
“Is that really you?” I ask.
Her answer returns in silence. A muscle in her forearm starts to quiver and then grows still. “I could ask the same of you,” she replies.
Same voice, but older now
In that moment I approach, daring the moment to end, daring the vision of her to vanish like a mirage.
And yet, through it all she remains, even as I close the gap between us.
Question’s remain; if I were to run my lips across hers, lightly brush them across her cheek- run my hands along the curve of her arm, the small of her back… dare to hold her hand in mine, would she still remain, would she still be mine?
“You have no idea,” I begin, reaching out. I wanted to hold her, to pull her up next to me, feel her body close to mine, to feel her breath on my cheek, her heart beating fast, for you see, I once knew who she was and she I.
She denies me this simple gesture, shying away from me like a young willow bending in the wind. “Exactly,” she states, “I have no idea.”
But she lies; I can see it in her eyes, in the squaring of her shoulders. Deny me she must, but at one time- in that other place and time -she knew exactly who I was and what I’d meant to her.
What we’d meant to each other.
But then again, that had been a lifetime ago.