![]() The RecluseA Story by Kelly B.![]() I wrote this while listening to one of my favorite songs of all time, The Recluse by a band called Cursive. Sorry if some of this seems rushed, the story line of the lyrics seem to jump around a bit.![]() My eyes open abruptly as I awake from a peaceful slumber. I roll over on my side expecting to be greeted by the lovely view of a strange woman of high caliber, but to my disappointment, I am alone. "Where is she?” I think to myself. I scan
the room with curious eyes for any clues to her whereabouts, but all I
can see are her piles of books and notebooks scattered all around. I find myself imagining
what the contents of these notebooks would contain. What kinds of things would
they say? Something like, “Shoo, fly, don’t bother me”? It appears I am in some
sort of dingy hotel room in the middle of god knows where. “What did I do last
night?” I ask myself puzzledly. The last thing I remember is meeting a woman
who I can vaguely describe from memory. I sit up in this creaky, stiff hotel
bed hoping to jog my memory for any more details. I know I should probably get
to leaving as I don’t want to overstay my welcome, especially seeing as whoever the lady was that was here has managed to sneak out the door before
I could wake; clearly she did not wish to be remembered. Though she is but a
stranger, the feeling I get from her faint recollection makes me feel as if I
am home. That hopeful feeling suddenly escapes me as the fear of never laying
in this bed again starts to slowly wash over me until intense shame begins to
take over. My brain keeps attacking me with thoughts, “Oh Christ, I'm not that desperate, am I?” The
image of a lanky, crimson haired woman begins to flood my mind and I worry that
I may never see her again. “Oh
no, oh god, I am.” I think as I come to the embarrassing realization. I
still can’t seem to piece together how I ended up here to begin with. Another
one night stand I suppose. “Why do I start what I can’t finish?” I am barraged
yet again by another question with an ugly answer. I know it’s probably just my
bruised ego acting out. I shake my head as if to clean the slate of a cluttered
etch-a-sketch, desperately hoping to think of anything else. Maybe I just don’t
want to finish anything anymore. I
get to thinking that maybe I can wait here in this bed until she returns. I
know things will only end badly, as they always do, but I can’t seem to
convince my senseless brain to walk out of this room and drive away. I hate myself
for being so foolish; she’s probably going to walk in here with disgust when
she sees that I am still lingering like a lost puppy. Moments later, my ears
pick up on the sound of stilettos clacking as they walked down the pavement. I
frantically veer towards the door just as it swings open… My bloodshot eyes
become fixated on the image standing in front of me; a lanky, crimson haired
woman. She stares at me still perched upon her bed and says not a word. My
heart is racing as the woman inches closer to the space I was taking up in her
bed; emerald eyes never ceasing to break contact with my own. Surely she can sense the
amorous desperation in my body language. Her cold hand grabs the back of my
neck and I brace for impact as wine stained lips move forward until they
collide with mine. The intensity of the kiss could not have been accidental; she knows exactly what she is doing. With sheer dominance, she grabs both of my
hands and places them upon her petite breasts and watches as my pupils rapidly
dilate. I notice the corners of her mouth start to carve a wide, devilish grin
upon her pale face, almost as if to say, “You’re in my web now.” Yet again, I
am a fool, willingly handing my blackened heart over to a woman that is
blissfully aware of the power she has over me. I have become like an overly
curious fly lured in the web of a brown recluse, wrapped up tight and drained
of every ounce of hope until the time comes when she decides to bite down. © 2017 Kelly B.Author's Note
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3 Reviews Added on June 14, 2017 Last Updated on June 14, 2017 Tags: the recluse, cursive, band, music Author
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