We sat across from each other in the dimly lit room.  Whiskey Sours mingled with our blood; enough to lower inhibitions.  Not enough to impair judgment.  Street lights filtered through the window vaguely lighting her face.  I could see a sloppy grin playing on her lips.  Her eyes most likely half closed.  I could never remember their color.  She didn’t hold it against me.

The liquor loosed our tongues, opened our minds to each other.  We spoke bluntly and candidly.  No words were found offensive, no matter their brutal honesty.  Each sentence helped me see her more clearly.      

     Light brown hair pooling over her shoulders.  The pointed chin of her sweet heart shaped face tilted up at me.  The line of svelte arms pressed against her thin waist.  Long thin fingered hands resting atop toned thighs.      

     With the description of her childhood, the veins beneath her smooth skin became more apparent.  The thin rivulets of blue meandered across her body to intersect with each artery.  The tale wasn’t horrific, but it was sad.  So was mine.  She peered deeper into my soul before speaking again.

    Her thoughts on religion were unique.  She believed in a truly loving God.  She admitted that she simply didn’t know.  The questions plaguing humanity aren’t meant to be answered.  Still she kept faith.  Although a godless man her opinions demanded my respect.  It was refreshing to not be condemned to hell.  Her muscles showed, taught flesh beneath olive skin.

     I told her of my deepest secrets; my propensity to think too much, of the dark times, the poetry written in blood and burnt silently in the night.  The day I planned to end my life.  Her caring eyes looked deeper, seeing something new in me.

     As she told me of her most shameful sins I noticed her changing.  The crimes she’d committed and those committed against her.  Of the incidents which stole away her most precious gift.  How it had been unwillingly given and how it haunted her still.  Amazed how she could still believe in a benevolent God.  I listened to it all, however hard it was.

    I could see stark glimpses of bone.  This girl was so much stronger than I.  It takes such strength to forgive.  We did not comment on each other’s words.  We merely listened absorbing the knowledge, letting it change us and our views.

     We exchanged impressions of each other.  What we had found attractive.  What drew us in.  What ensnared us, making us stay.  The once pretty girl was now a gorgeous mass of bloody human flesh.

     Feeling the thin veil of intoxication lifting from my mind I offered to poor us another drink.  She didn’t reply.  Instead she sat, mouth agape, staring at me.  Curious I gazed in the mirror opposite us on the wall.  There I was staring back. 

Skinless  

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Author guidance for This exercise

This was a spur of the moment bit of writing, that I was inspired to write by the simple word skinless. Whether you have a literal, metaphoric, or an abstract interpretation of the word post your creations.

Write something pertaining to the word SKINLESS.
-any genre
-any length
-the word skinless doesn't need to be used but a clear connection should be apparent.

updated Nov 20 '10 by StrawBarry