Spiralling Staircases

3 minute read   ·   01/ Obsidian in Amber
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Stepping off the train, the people, the smell, the noise, all gave him an initial shock. He wasn’t used to this. Where he came from, everything was far and wide-open-spaced. Nothing was so jammed together like this city. The vapors seemed to steam out of the worn steel tracks. The conglomeration of the world’s diverse ethnicities all seemed to join him in a human traffic jam as he scurried his way to be the winner of the race to exit the station. He needed to go into the real world and breathe some fresh air. He needed to see the skyscrapers and see them staring back at him like he was a tiny little ant invading the morning’s chocolate cake. He was nobody in this city. But of course, he had other plans.

As he crossed the big streets with their big, expensive cars and taxicabs up the ante, he was sure to look into those aforementioned cars and cabs to get a sight of the faces of the of the people he was to co-exist with. All of them were different from one another. Some seemed to have gotten caught up in their lavish lifestyle while others seem to have this calm demeanor about them. He knew he would get caught up in the intensity of it all, but he never wanted to forget where he came from.


He watched her as she laid down on the bed. Her black lace bra and panties justified every curve of her figure. She motioned with her finger for him to go to her. And he did. he couldn’t resist holding her by her waist and kissing her bluntly red lips. He closed his eyes as his lips did meet hers, in reason that he felt more of her passion via that action. He let go. She let go. And suddenly he stepped back.

He couldn’t do it. He still had someone else in his mind. And the denial didn’t go so well. When he closed his eyes during that kiss, he felt more. But it wasn’t because of the beauty in front of him. She was still in his mind. And he knew no matter who he met, how old he got, she would always be there.


He is so bold. He is so blunt. He is so well and so nice and considerate and whatnot. He fell once and fell again and never learned his lesson and continued to fall until he could fall no more. There began the process to recovery as he took his first steps. His eyes flickered as he realised what he had missed because of what he had missed (and it was all in his mind).

He felt alone in a crowd. He felt like the kid in the time out corner who went there voluntarily to escape the mutinies of his own being. He skipped past his violent mind and past his intentions of good and past his inner child and past his feelings of pure (but innocent) erotica.

He had moved on to a place better suited for him, for no one was there but him. But he had his imagination for others to exist. And this world he sees around him is only a dream now, for the reality has left him. And he still cries at night wondering what happened. He doesn’t know. And he never will.