Tubes. She woke up in an instant. Her eyes switched on and opened wide. The icy blue iris cracked open as her pupils shrank in the white light. Her body was cold and wet and gray. She imagined for an instant that she was laying on a slick brushed steel gurney, her dark brown hair splayed out like a water-tossed clump of seaweed.
She was not in a teal colored room with white sheets and metal medical tools.
She was not under a cold burning white lamp with tubes coming out of her mouth and various body parts.
She felt rough sand scratching against her shoulder blades, digging into her hips.
Her pinky flickered. She could move, barely. She scraped at the sand with her tiny fingernail. A bit of grit slid beneath. She coughed up water and sucked in the air greedily and hastily letting out a sharp wheezing sound.
As she caught her breath and whisked the water from her tear ducts, she noticed she was on a secluded beach, palm trees to the left, a mile of flat beach and occasional boulders to the right. It was early morning, the sun just coming up. No footprints in the sand.
Statik looked down at her legs stretched out in the sand. She stared at the random specks of multicolored sand stuck to her skin. Normally she would try and brush it off, but didn't feel like it this time. Tugging at her soggy white linen shirt and shorts, she thought to herself, I should be wondering where I am. But I don't care.
She smiled a half smile. I don't care where I am. For all I know this is Utopia. She threw her head back with a pleasurable smirk and felt her damp hair pulling at her scalp like massaging fingers caressing her, soothing her, relaxing her.
She sat up and admired the turquoise vista coming to life in full color with the sun. Nobody around. Just the sound of the ocean waves, bristling and simmering onto the shore in thin bubbling layers. The moment was fleeting.
Surely she must try and get some bearings. Find out what, where, why and how she was here. Life wasn't so bad that you could just forget and forgive that quickly, was it?
Her thoughts shook out of her brain like droplets of water, disappearing in to the sand. Sinister. Without a trace. Just like the story of her arrival. Last she remembered was walking along the city beach, pissing and moaning to herself about going home to an empty bed.
Now she was here. In a solitary paradise. Perhaps an oxymoron.
Statik furled her eyebrow in faint attempt at remembering anything from the night before. She couldn't even remember what she was doing before she fell asleep. Crisp, cool white sheets, wrinkling and bunching as she tossed and turned and slid her hands along their folds. That was the best she could do.
Dreaming. Am I dreaming?
Is this a dream within a dream?
She stood up to look around, feeling slightly woozy, the same feeling one gets when they have been turned on, tortured and teased, then left hanging from afar. A tiny pulse of electricity between her legs distracted her momentarily as she squeezed her thighs together to stifle the sensations. This is no time to be feeling horny. Where the fuck am I? It's nice and all, but what the fuck?
She touched the sand. It feels real.
She touched her chest. It feels real.
She screamed. It sounded real.
She felt the pulsing between her thighs again. And again.
Leading her thoughts, she smoothed her hand across her crotch, hoping to either make it go away or stimulate it more - either might do.
Her mind strayed to the past. A dark rainy night, tail lights in the foreground, yellow lines on the road eaten up as if the car was PacMan in first person. Stay in your lane. Driving down the road, led by passion, led by the heart strings the size of ropes, led by intense yearning, the carrot of fulfillment. Hungry for the touch that ignites the flesh, swelling desire scorching and licking it's way from the inside out. The taste of blood on a tamed hunter's lips erasing all inhibitions, all delays, all the years of collected memories, all logic, all wisdom. Ensnared in a feverish tempest of anxiety and excitement, the car drives on, into the night, over the Flatlands, the Desert. There is no turning back now, she justifies herself. There is no turning back. It waits, ever so patiently for your arrival. In a dark doorway, in a dark house, in the shadows, it is there. It. Lust. Satiation. Forbidden Fruit. Lifeblood.
But not love. It's not love waiting in that secluded hole in the Desert.
It's nothing but a Release. Turn back. Go home to Good Love. Go home to Safety. To Boring. You are Lucky. You're one of the Lucky ones.
Statik shook her head as if something was stuck in her ear. Again the sounds of the beach reminded her that she was in a different time, different place. "Having nine lives could be worse, I guess." she said.
She woke up in an instant. Her eyes switched on and opened wide. The icy blue iris cracked open as her pupils shrank in the white light. She looked over at the alarm clock that she never used and noticed the time: 7:34am. She flopped back down on her pillow. The sunlight flickered through the curtains as they moved in the breeze.
Feels like the winds have changed direction this morning. Perhaps it's time to go for another walk to the water. Walk, walk, walk, walk, walk....
I'm ready to let you in....whoever you are. Just come to me again. I'll let you in. Just ask me to let you in.