Kolton – A character summary (Original Writing)

I was finally able to write something for the first time in about a month tonight. It felt good to have the creativity flowing again, even if it was just a beginning or a summary of sorts for a character I’ve been keeping to myself for a while. I adore him and I could never really figure out how to write his story or his summary, but tonight it finally came to me. I would also like to preface this with the fact that I am not a person of color, so I in no way have any idea what it is like. I can only write and be true to the character that Kolton has become as a black man, a character I love very much. I want him to see his true beauty, but he has certain struggles that I can only hope are not deemed offensive. If any of my readers are of color and see that I have written something wrong or offensively by accident, please let me know so I can correct it. Please know, also, that everyone has their own struggles that may not always be politically correct in their own head. As a trans person, I’ve had my own struggles that I just haven’t said aloud – struggles I’ve since overcome. Nothing written here is meant to be offensive, but an exploration of something deeper for this character. I can’t wait to write more for him.

For now, I hope this beginning and character profile is interesting enough to read as it was for me to write it. I think I love Kolton even more after all of this.

***

Kolton sighed, the red blush on his dark skin clearly visible beneath the dancing fountain lights. He hugged his arms around himself, his revealing deep v-neck sweater drooping from his right shoulder as he tried to gain some sort of modesty. It was his own fault he was standing there then, dressed more inappropriately than he’d ever been in his life. He was very aware that his smooth black leather pants left little to the imagination. “What am I doing, Jupiter?” He sat at the edge of the fountain as he spoke to his absent dog who was most likely resting comfortably at home, his deep British tone just barely above a whisper. His black rectangular glasses slipped down his nose as he stared at the ground.

He dared to glance around the city before him, the large wall of water behind him attracting late-night couples to its beauty. What had he been hoping for? Certainly not something he’d truly wanted. Or maybe he really did want the very thing he’d kept from himself in all of his thirty years of existence. He huffed a laugh. He had been the spoiled rich boy who lost everything.

As a child, his father and mother were very well off, although both neglected him more often than not. Parties and expensive luxuries consumed their world, and as far as Kolton was concerned, they’d forgotten they had a son. He was cared for by the butler and their few maids and it was enough for a child like him – a loveless child. He spent all of his free time writing when he wasn’t sleepless from studying for the prestigious private school he attended. The family butler, Grant, was his sole supporter and would often look over the young master’s journals when appropriate, giving praise where it was due. Kolton smiled. Grant was probably his only friend then too, and where the stirrings of his early budding sexuality began.

He felt emotion well up inside him and took a deep breath, standing at last to head home. He brushed his short black hair to the side where it had fallen in his face. The butler had never made advances toward him or anything like that. The older man actually didn’t have to do anything – his support was enough for poor young Kolton to confuse love with fondness or friendship. Since he hadn’t much experience with any of those things, he’d always just suspected he was broken or emotionless – asexual as he grew into a young adult. Grant had been the only person to ever make him feel somewhat normal.

Then everything came crashing down when he became a man. Instead of partying like everyone else on his twenty-first birthday, his parents had suddenly recognized his existence just long enough to see him off. Kolton had nothing but what fit in the trunk of the family car and the money in his bank account that he’d earned during his short time as an intern at the hospital. He’d been foolish to think that having rich parents meant security. Fortunately for him, he was very good at managing his finances and ended up with a small house in the country and a Borzoi puppy that gave him more joy than any other human on Earth. Jupiter was his everything.

He’d been neglecting the dog lately, but with moving them into a larger home after establishing himself as an author, along with the stress of his attempts to be more social left him with little energy at the end of the day. And then there was that short time in his life in between the mess that destroyed him and everything he’d learned for himself about human interaction – that painful blip in his life that kept gnawing at him any time he felt alone. He’d roomed with three of the most infuriating people he’d ever known, but it had been his only option upon leaving his parents behind.

It was a large home with rooms made into apartments, all of which were occupied once Kolton moved in for a short while. He had only needed a place during the transition while he sought out an affordable house, his life of luxury having spoiled him in the most horrible of ways. He noticed often the way the others stared at the gold and silver jewelry he wore – his rose gold watch one of the only presents his father had ever given him for Christmas one year. The rings were of his own acquisition, but their value alone was enough to have them kept hidden at all times when he wasn’t wearing them. The only housemate out of the three that never really bothered him, and seemed to be at peace with life in general, was the nature-loving blonde Minkz.

Minkz Murdock lived in a world all his own. His hair was equivalent to an 80’s glam metal band fashion disaster and he often wore a ridiculous pair of short cut-off shorts for a man. His heavily tattooed body only added to the clash of style that the man was. Regardless, he was kind and mostly kept to himself when he wasn’t outside fishing behind the house in the large lake. For some reason he’d taken an interest in Kolton, often watching him from afar and eventually striking up small conversation. At the time Kolton was repelled not only by his lazy, nature-loving persona, but by the fact that the man was obviously hitting on him. Repulsive.

Regardless, the two started talking more and more, Minkz inviting Kolton out back to sit with him in nature and Kolton rejecting many times. Eventually, Kolton made his way out to humor the man and found that existing in nature, where the only sounds were the wind and the rushing water, was rather healing and quieted his constantly rushing mind. He’d picked up smoking then for a short while, although he eventually stopped. During that time, Minkz would often share a cigarette with him – not because the man smoked himself, but to have a reason to be closer to the ex-rich boy that intrigued him so much.

“Why are you so fascinated with me?” Kolton put out his cigarette and slipped his hands into his pockets as he watched Minkz’s fishing line follow the stream of water.

“Honestly? I think you’re hot.”

“That’s a bit forward, isn’t it?” Kolton blushed and looked to the ground, suddenly wishing he hadn’t ventured out to the lake that afternoon. It was too damn hot out anyway and he was in one of his black turtlenecks. Minkz shrugged.

“Life’s too short not to be honest, man. Let me guess, you aren’t actually gay, are you?”

“I’m asexual, actually.”

“You can be asexual and have a preference – or no preference like me.”

“How can you not have a preference?!”

“So you do, then? Sorry, man. My gaydar just goes off when I’m around you.” Minkz chuckled as he began to fight a fish tugging at his line. Kolton blushed a dark pink.

“That’s rude. Besides, we’re much too different to even consider such a thing.” Yet, Kolton had actually thought about it. Even if it was just a fleeting thought brought on by the conversation, it hadn’t repulsed him as much as he’d wanted to say out loud. He felt queasy. Minkz had finally brought up the small fish that was now flopping around in the dirt and rocks.

“Different? Money doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

“I didn’t mean money…” Kolton suddenly felt self-conscious. It’s not that he wasn’t attracted to people of lighter skin colors, but that someone with skin so beautiful and pale like Minkz would even find his extremely dark skin attractive. He had always been self-conscious about it due to being teased in school for being one of the only kids with skin so dark in his class. Racism wasn’t something he was a stranger to.

Kolton was caught off guard when Minkz stood before him, lifting his chin to better see his pale gray eyes. The man’s voice was warm and gruff. “Kolton, you’re an attractive man regardless of anything so superficial. I think your skin is beautiful. You should be more confident in yourself.” It was the first time Kolton had ever been kissed or even considered kissing anyone, let alone a man dressed like some Woodstock hobo. Regardless, he’d fallen into it like a love-starved teenager, his whole body screaming at him to push Minkz away and never see him again. Once the rush in his stomach had turned to nausea he found the will to push the man away, backing up to gain some distance and wiping his mouth as if he’d tasted something foul. He’d been without affection his whole life in any physical manner and the very idea of it made him shake with anxiety. Minkz watched after him as he left angrily to return to the house, the blonde man returning to his fishing while deep in thought.

“Jupiter, there you are!” Kolton flipped on the light as he entered his home, his best friend coming to greet him with a wet kiss that was full of slobber. The man chuckled and kneeled down to hug the cream and tan colored Borzoi, rubbing the dog’s sides before ushering Jupiter into the kitchen. “Would you like a biscuit? Have you been a good boy?” The dog barked excitedly and Kolton tossed him a treat, then proceeded to make something for himself. It was much too late and he had gone without eating for most of the day. His stomach was still in knots.

Ever since Minkz had ruined him he’d discovered something within himself that he’d always tried to keep away. He had spent so much time fearing and detesting all forms of physical affection – love or friendship-wise – that he’d lived a celibate life up until then. Until Minkz had crept into his room and showed him just what physical affection could feel like and what he’d been missing for so many years. Kolton felt his cheeks grow warm and his stomach flipped in that familiar way that told him he was going to need a cold shower. It still disgusted him – that feeling that people often likened to ‘butterflies’ – but it seemed that once awakened it was a switch that he couldn’t turn off again. He hadn’t even seen Minkz since he’d moved out of there and he hadn’t been with anyone since they’d experimented that one night. Not until more recently when he’d decided that he couldn’t take it anymore and he had to explore those feelings again. He had to confront the fact that he’d been a closeted gay man for much too long, and rather it was Minkz’s fault or not, it was a beast that was slowly clawing at the closet door in a demand to be let free. He had himself to satisfy his embarrassing urges, but apparently that wasn’t enough.

So he’d gone out for the first time in search of… something. He’d purposely dressed provocative – revealing more of his dark skin that he tried so hard to cover up. It was progress at least, if he could even count it as anything positive. He was still confused and he still didn’t know anything about anything. He’d made it far enough to enter the nightclub, be hit on by a rather douchey looking guy, and then leave before the guy could even turn back around to hand Kolton a drink. The music had been too loud and there were too many people – too much noise. So he’d ended up in the city square, sitting by a fountain with dancing lights and suddenly so self-conscious he could have crawled into a hole. He’d felt naked even though he wasn’t.

Kolton managed a few bites of his sandwich before putting the rest in the fridge. It was going on ten at night and his office seemed a comforting getaway to all of his problems. Flipping on the dim light that illuminated the red wallpaper, Kolton sat down at his computer to start a new poem. He’d been writing a lot of poetry since he’d began exploring himself and who he truly was inside. He couldn’t admit it out loud or even truly to himself, but in reality, he was thinking about Minkz. Every time he sat down to write a poem the man’s glam rock blonde hair slid into his thoughts, remaining there until Kolton felt the need to pour bleach into his ears to cleanse the memories. The man had made him into an insatiable depravity.

Jupiter was at his feet, curling around his cold toes as he typed away. Giving into the words that wanted to remain hidden was at least a bit of a catharsis for his exhausted mind. Although it would probably never see the light of day, the series of poems that flowed from his fingers brought about a quiet that would lull him into sleep, Kolton once again realizing he’d almost fallen asleep at his desk. With his computer on standby and the house dark, Kolton drug himself up the steps with Jupiter at his heels to disrobe in his bedroom and then sink into the gray-blue silk sheets on his king size bed. His dreams were full of heartache and closeted monsters.

©2018 Shane Blackheart

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Kolton

 

Bear Your Arteries! (Original writing)

(This is a short bit of writing practice I did based off of some Sims 4 gameplay. Lucifuge Rofocale, a demon who lives as a vampire, couldn’t get enough of Bjorn’s blood. So, naturally, I had to write a story about it. MATURE themes ahead! Open-minded older teens & adults only! Link to a related Youtube video based on this story below.)

Bjorn stretched widely upon entering the old yet lavish home. He often visited – usually a few times a week at least. His absence had been much longer this time, however, and Lucifuge had become irritable. The demon who lived as a vampire had no shortage of ‘blood supply’. There was his chosen occupation, which brought many to his home in search of obscure sexual tastes – at times allowing Lucifuge to feed on them. This was a rare occurrence at the best of times and Lucifuge often was left with nothing but monetary compensation for his services, which was the expected outcome anyway. When it came to his particular tastes in blood, though, Bjorn seemed to be the only human who could sate his bloodlust.

The man was of average height with blonde hair that was slicked back just above his shoulders, still short enough to be decent for a human male of his age. His years were beginning to show on his brow and in the soft crow’s feet that were forming on his face. He was of average build but was lazy in his lifestyle and way of dress, often adorned in a beige sweater that fastened in front by a few buttons, a white t-shirt beneath, and a pair of faded dad jeans to complete the image of a sloth of a man. He spoke in a Southern drawl that made Lucifuge cringe with distaste, but despite all of this, at least the man had a redeeming pair of baby blues. Overall, he wasn’t the worst looking man on the planet. He could probably become quite attractive with a few trivial changes here or there, but Bjorn was as he presented himself, which Lucifuge had no control over.

And there the vampire was, focusing on all of this as his hunger for blood grew. He instinctively ran his hand over his silver braid to the side of his shoulder to occupy his hand with something. He knew his eyes were glowing a dark crimson by the way Bjorn seemed to back away from him ever so slightly, which wasn’t the norm. More than likely, his face had also changed due to his dark mood, the lines in his skin much more prominent and the shadows consuming his eyelids. He watched Bjorn as if he were eyeing up his prey and a dark, half-grin stole across his features. “My dear Bjorn, what has you so unnerved?” His dark and sophisticated English accent was clearly taunting, tugging at his guest’s nerves. Bjorn cleared his throat and leaned back against the window as if he were distracted by something outside. A low fog had started to drift about the property line.

“I just… I get nervous sometimes that the wife will catch me. We been doin’ this for a while now, you know? She’s gonna start to wonder where I go all the time at my age.”

“And that is exactly why she won’t suspect a thing. Is it so uncommon for a 40-year-old man to go out with friends to the bar? Play a game of poker or get completely pissed?”

“I got kids too, Lucifuge.” Bjorn sighed and ran a hand down his face. “I just don’t know how long I can keep doin’ this with all that weighing on me. I’m also a straight man.”

“Straight?” Lucifuge burst into laughter, leaning back on the second-floor railing for support. “Call yourself whatever you please, but what we do is far from it.” The vampire waited for his laughter to die down before he eyed the other man with a gaze to make even the most doubtful compliant. There was something within his dark red eyes that caused Bjorn to crumble inside no matter how hard he would try to avoid them. That damnable gaze won every time.

“Just take what you need so I can leave.”

“You love it and you know it. It’s a shame it had to be you, though.” Lucifuge pushed away from the railing and approached his guest, carefully sliding a hand low on the man’s hip and the other to the side of Bjorn’s face that had started to flush. He brought his lips close to ghost across the man’s neck, delighting in the shiver it brought forth. “You’re detestable. Your voice gives me a headache and your very existence irritates me. Yet… “ Lucifuge flicked his tongue out to tease the skin that had just begun to scar from repeated punctures. “I can practically taste your sanguis suavis.”

Bjorn held his breath as he expected the pain to come, but it never did. The vampire seemed to hesitate as he pulled his mouth back, watching Bjorn with interest. “What? Why didn’t you drain me?”

“No, that wouldn’t do for my current mood, I’m afraid.” Lucifuge pushed Bjorn back with force and the man fell onto the red satin sheets covering the lavish bed behind them. “The hunger will make for an interesting session – wouldn’t you agree?”

“You’re scaring me.” Bjorn’s heart threatened to break free from his chest as the vampire crawled over him, pressing their bodies together. Lucifuge’s voice lowered to barely above a whisper as he teased his lips along Bjorn’s ear.

“I must find a way to rekindle your interest. I can’t have you doubting what we have now.”

“Lucifuge…” A sigh escaped Bjorn as the body above him began its torturous dance. He felt utterly powerless and was embarrassed by his growing desire. “We don’t have nothin’ but convenience for you.” He groaned in pain as a clawed hand came up to grab his slightly fuzzy jaw, squeezing as it forced his head to the side to look into a pair of swimming red eyes.

“You can’t hide it from me when we’re like this, you fool. You’re quivering in your boots – which, speaking of…” Lucifuge released the man and sunk low to the floor, pulling both boots from Bjorn’s large feet. He then returned his gaze to the man above him and slid his hands along Bjorn’s thighs as he leaned up on his elbows to watch, the vampire tempting his desires as dark fingers crept higher. Lucifuge slid his tongue across his fangs, toying with Bjorn as his body swayed in an intoxicating spell that soon had the man on the bed gripping at the sheets in anticipation. “There is another artery here…” Lucifuge squeezed high on Bjorn’s thigh and the man forgot to breathe. “… and I’ve yet to try it, although I imagine your blood is rushing elsewhere.” The vampire laughed darkly as the man above him became compliant, falling back onto the bed and closing his eyes. “Speechless?” Lucifuge’s hand crept up to the button on Bjorn’s jeans, flicking it open and dragging down the zipper. “Then let’s begin.”

©2018 Shane Blackheart

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Check out the Sims Machinima I made based on this general story here: Lucifuge & Bjorn – Bear Your Arteries!

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought, and feel free to subscribe or follow to get more stories and random musings.

Purple & Gold (Original Writing)

(This is a short story I wrote to visit a happy place I desperately needed. When the brain decides to beat me up, this is my only escape sometimes. In the story is myself, my vampire hubby Lestan who is a multiple, and Byleth who is one of my spirit guides and a Fallen Angel. There is some mature humor, as a warning.

“Where are we now?” Byleth’s white heels became saturated in sand as he walked across the dark beach. I looked up at him from where I stood dressed in a pair of black trunks with 90s -streaks-of-neon in the design and a black tank. Lestan was at my other side wearing a much shorter pair of red and black shorts and nothing else. Byleth was, of course, in his usual white t-shirt, white bell bottoms, and red jacket.

“Somewhere.” I looked out over the expanse of sand and water, the ocean’s sprays barely felt on my face. Below my feet, the sand was purple and black with shimmerings of gold in the large moon’s light, and the water was a crystal blue, although the pale moon washed over everything with a dull offset that made it comforting rather than unsettling. I tugged on Lestan’s hand and he followed me to the water’s edge where I dug my feet into the wet, oddly colored sand. The breeze was much stronger here and it caressed my face with a featherlight touch that calmed me.

Lestan’s hand left mine as I ventured further. He seemed worried as I stumbled, moving further and further until I was up to my knees in water. The waves were kind tonight and there was no threat to be drawn under, but I wouldn’t have minded. After a short time, Lestan came up behind me and ran his hands along my arms, bringing his front against my back to better wrap his arms around me and embrace me for comfort. “It’ll be okay, love. Come on, let’s get back.”

“Just a little longer.” I stared out into the inky blackness of the ocean. I usually feared large expanses of water and avoided them at all costs, let alone coming so close to the edge of oblivion. And depending on where we were in any given space in time, if time even existed in this world, it was a guess as to the eldritch horrors lying beneath – maybe even just feet away. “I wonder how close we are to the drop-off.”

“Well, I’m not keen on helping you find Cthulhu, so let’s back away, okay, baby?” Lestan pleaded with me once more, finally drawing me back with him until I stumbled, accidentally dragging him down with me into the sand. We both laid face down in the dark, purple-gold beach, my body on top of Lestan’s. I quickly sat up in apology and watched as he lifted himself and turned around to face me, lifting an eyebrow in mild exasperation. “You still haven’t come down from the meds, have you?”

“Not completely, sorry. I’m kind of… trippy? No, that isn’t it…” Lestan laughed at my response, grabbing my tank and pulling me down on top of him. I straddled his thighs and attempted to clean off the rest of the dark sand that had latched onto his pale, thin face. He stopped me after a few swipes and took my wrists gently, holding them in the air where they were. “But you look silly like that, and it’s all in your hair…”

I was silenced with a kiss that came in slow and soft, just enough to take my breath away before lingering to ghost a chuckle across my open mouth. “It’s not going to hurt me.”

“No, but I feel bad because I literally knocked you on your face.”

“Then I’ll just have to put you on your back to make it even.”

“How’s…?” I grabbed onto Lestan’s arms as he laid me back and crawled over me, his hand wiping off the remainder of sand from his face. A small bit of purple and gold shimmered down from his medium-length black hair onto my cheek. “… how’s this considered making it even?”

“It isn’t. I just wanted an excuse to get you horizontal.” He grinned as I clammed up, my heart jumping into my throat. A pair of footsteps shuffling through the dark sand gained our attention and we both looked up to see Byleth in his bare feet, which wasn’t something I’d ever really remembered noticing. His feet were rather… normal for a Fallen. I gazed upon the rest of him standing tall in nothing but a pair of white swimming shorts that were much shorter than I’d have expected him to wear.

“I figured it would only be a matter of time before you two ended up like that.” He smiled as he passed us by to approach the water’s edge, and my face turned a dark shade of crimson. White shorts. Water. White shorts… water. Lestan must have noticed my discomfort and climbed off of me, laughing.

“What’s got you so unnerved, baby?”

“White water… “ I shook my head. No. “White shorts and water don’t mix.”

“I beg to differ,” Byleth mumbled as he walked into the ocean’s gentle waves. Lestan and I sat side by side as we both observed the Fallen King and his fascination with the vastness of such a place. It brought to mind the many mundane questions I’d never asked him in our short time of knowing each other, but had it really been so short? How long did ‘almost two years’ mean to a Fallen Angel?

“Byleth, how many times have you been near the ocean?” He turned around at my casual question and crossed his arms in thought. The water was up to his thighs. Lestan and I had slid closer, our feet touching the water’s edge with the flow reaching our knees.

“I’ve spent a lot of time observing your world but not really being a part of it. Not many humans are keen on keeping a demon ‘buddy’ let alone a serious romantic relationship of any kind. So my romantic ocean dates? Nil.”

“This isn’t a date, really.” I sighed, the wet sand getting stuck between my toes and my feet becoming buried. The breeze felt like a breath of healing across my naturally frowning lips. “I just needed something different. Something dark but nice at the same time. I didn’t want to go to just any beach because most of them are too bright and full of people.”

“So you made your own. Good job, sugar. I rather like it.” Byleth smiled and braced himself against the small waves that crashed against his backside, finally wetting his shorts. He glanced down and sighed. “I guess that was going to happen sooner or later.”

I glanced around even though I knew full well that the beach was empty save for us. It wasn’t any particular place in time anywhere, so it was as I wished it to be, but regardless of that fact, there was a six point five foot attractive, chiseled Fallen Angel approaching us with a pair of soaking wet white shorts and my head was screaming. Lestan poked my cheek that had become impossibly redder.

“You know he did that on purpose, right?”

“I honestly didn’t plan on getting wet.” He let a small lecherous chuckle slip before sitting beside me, sandwiching me in between him and Lestan. “Depending on the context, that is.”

“I need to relax, guys. At this rate you’re going to give me a heart attack. Both of you.” I caught my eyes wandering down to his shorts and quickly jerked my attention back to the ocean before us. As if on cue once more, my eyes wandered back over to him. Thankful that he’d seemed to be fascinated with the ambiance and the scenery in the distance, I caught sight of his light blonde hair that was nearly platinum – still perfect save for the strands that were feathering across his sharp features in the breeze. His golden horns that twisted up toward the sky glistened like solid gold itself in the moonlight. I wanted to touch them.

Lestan watched with amusement as I reached up to slide my fingers along the rough surface that looked much smoother than it really was. This drew Byleth’s attention back from the ambiance and he glanced down at me from the side to not move his head too much, my hands becoming more exploratory as I followed the horn’s shape up to the sky. A quiet sigh escaped him and he finally turned his head to look at me fully, taking my exploring hand that had been pondering the sharpness of the tip. “Sugar, keep doing that and I’ll have more than just puns when it comes to being wet.”

“You could feel that?” I was truly curious. Was it the same as a cow or a deer, or any other animal with horns?

“Well duh, they’re a part of me. So trust me, yes, I feel it.” With my hand still in his grasp, he lowered it into his lap and I looked off to the side in embarrassment.

“Yep. I… I guess you do.” He released my hand and I felt my fingers twitch in want to withdraw, but I left it where it was. Byleth returned his focus to the ocean, and Lestan had taken to hugging me from my side. Occasionally I’d feel his kisses on my shoulder and on my head, his long, thin fingers coming up to run through my blue-black hair. In that moment I felt possessive over both of them and it brought a warmth to my heart that I’d been missing. My free hand slipped into the back of Lestan’s shorts and I felt him smile against my shoulder. My other hand squeezed Byleth’s thigh affectionately, which seemed to act as a sort of invisible sign for him to come closer. He laid his head on mine and with Lestan on my other shoulder, I felt complete.

My whole reason for having created such a place and wanting to exist in it forever was still very much there, and I still very much wanted to never return. At least here I was surrounded by any one of them, Byleth and Lestan being the two to call forth the strongest. Daro would probably appear soon and if all went well there may even be more familiar faces, perhaps Lucifuge Rofocale for a proper introduction to the others.

But now was our time. It was quiet and intimate and peaceful. There was no urgency in the air and no worries to create that incessant vertigo that Medusa-ed me into stone. There was just Byleth and Lestan, and me, and the dark expanse of night – black and purple sand with its shimmering gold flakes – and the large, oversized moon that allowed a bit of light over the darkness. And then there was the expanse of ocean that could have been a symbol for the void, but at least with my boys there, I could see an expanse of interesting things that hadn’t yet been discovered.

©2018 Shane Blackheart

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(I’d like to start posting more of my one-shots here that I happen to write. Expect more!)

Liminal Spaces

tumblr_nu2e38Qlow1trx0p6o1_500I spend a lot of time with one foot in reality – the here and now – and the other in my unreality at the same time. It’s kind of like living in Wonderland while also having a window into the outside (which is probably why I am as obsessed with all reincarnations of ‘Alice in Wonderland’ as I am). That’s probably not the best explanation I could give, but it’s something I haven’t really ever been able to put into words. It’s interesting in its own way though, pertaining to me personally and how I’ve always been in life with my gender, with family, and all else. I’ve always been in that ‘in-between’ somehow, so maybe it’s just a state of being that’s more natural to me than it should be.

I’ve written things before to try to explain this much better than rambling words on a page like this. Ironically, after saying that, most who have read these writings liken them to confusing ramblings on a page as well. I figured I’d post one of them here for the sake of it since I always seem to have this unshakeable desire for people to understand things, or to just understand me. It’s kind of a fruitless effort anyway because humans are all so diverse and complex, and we can’t ever possibly begin to understand each other let alone ourselves. But, without rambling further, here is something I wrote about three years ago when I was at my lowest (It is quite dark near the end, so a warning):

Drifting through wood-barren cases and grayed out walls – the frightening images in the distance welcome me yet horrify me. Faces indescribable; distortions clacking teeth of impossible length. Flat, horse teeth in canine mouths with minuscule eyes surrounded in white and red. Doll faces of antiquity twisting and thwarting my senses with their raised eyebrows and wide-eyed madness; mouths curved sideways to follow my mirrored mask of horrors.

I cannot confront you, but merely watch with dread and helplessness as you inquire me – speculate what frightens me the most. Or is this just a grotesque waking dream that I will never know the ending to? Not a dream, but a waking nightmare that is experienced lucidly in reality or on the fringes of reality. Your plastic visage can only mock me here on this fringe, yet what is the most tormenting fact of all: That I live in this very fringe and fabric that reality barely is able to sheer through.

You! terrible Voice in my head. Upon waking, you’ve already begun your one-way conversation of deprecation. You allow me not even a moment’s glance at the rising sun before you relentlessly beat me down with your disgusting vocabulary. It is your job to remind me of my failures – of the lies and deceptions humanity has fed to me. ‘Force-fed’ down my small, dry throat. My own flesh and blood are a common recurrence in your cruelest musings, Voice. You gambol about their empty promises, lies, and negligence. You remind me of companions lost, never to return, most likely, you remind me. My heart is their playground, as has been proven one too many a time, as you are so kind to recall for me, Voice.

I drown you beneath the bass of somber tones and instruments, blind you with the smoke that emanates from the nicotine-fueled poison seeping into my brain. Even then you manage to spit on my musings as I write, sour my journal pages with your word vomit. You drive me to my one last resort – my final coping method when nothing else can blot you out of existence.

At one time this very thing brought me beauty and smooth skin; now this weapon of choice brings only destruction as it splits the very skin it sought to keep clean. I cannot remain clean while I am in love with you, Voice. You remind me of this simple vice that can silence you, therefore I beckon to you when the intensity gains in volume. You put gentle pressure on the fast-forward button as my mind slowly fills with racing memories I fail to catch. I cannot keep up with you now, Voice. I must continue in my attempts to blot you out.

It burns. It causes so much pain to have you remain silent if only for a short time. My skin turns from pale to red – my skin tears and pops open in response to my final pleas to you, Voice. To make you become silent. And yet, I’ve finally done enough. Before the apathy has set in, before my visage becomes stone, you are long gone. You’ve gotten what you’ve wanted, and as I sit with this horrid instrument of destruction in hand, I realize that everything is once again silent.

But for how long? Perhaps I will meet you here once more tomorrow, Voice. Then we will continue this sadistic friendship once more. How I would love to enlighten you, yet be rid of you all the same. Until tomorrow, you glutton.

Shane Lestan – 11/2/2014

When I read it back now, it just seems like a more intricate way of wording a personification of an abusive voice that always looms over my shoulder. I often wonder if I’ll ever get to meet the source of this voice, and I am certain it isn’t any of my current alters or spirit guides. Maybe they are doing their best to keep the true identity of this voice far from me, as they’ve always promised to protect me. If nothing else, whoever or whatever this voice is, it’s set on my own personal destruction in this sick masochistic type of relationship.

I suppose the biggest plot twist of it all, which everyone would see coming at the end of a bad horror movie, would be that the voice is actually nothing buy my own self – my own brain. Almost as if it were split into two and my other self is my worst enemy. That’s just over-the-top corny at that point, but it’s the best I can think of.

The reason I named this entry ‘Liminal Spaces’ is because it’s probably the best way to describe my ‘in-betweens’. I suppose I should give you a definition of Liminal Spaces for reference:

“Liminal” means “relating to a transitional stage” or “occupying a position at both sides of a boundary.” – Places Where Reality Feels Altered

It’s pretty much just a feeling of being displaced in space and time – a place where space and time don’t even seem to really exist. The link above to the article at the end of the quote provides some examples of everyday places and times people often associate with liminal spaces.

But what about liminal spaces created in your own mind? Liminal spaces that you live in day to day even when not seemingly in any location or time that is usually attributed to them? Maybe it’s an over-active imagination, maybe it’s my creative soul going on overdrive, or maybe it’s even something spiritual that I should feel gifted for. I don’t think there’s ever going to be a clear answer for these questions, but as for the original writing of my own that I posted above, I had tried to explain that odd liminal space I find myself in sometimes. The result is poetic fumbling through words in an attempt to describe the indescribable. After all, how do you describe things, spaces, or entities that don’t resemble figures, patterns, or shapes that humans know to exist? I guess, in that sense, a liminal space could be best defined as something that doesn’t even have a definition. Or maybe, the definition is just different for everyone due to its highly personal experience. As for myself, although it seems the consensus seems to say that liminal spaces should make you feel anxious or uncomfortable, I love them and I find comfort in them, but my entry until this point probably explains why that is.

More about Liminal Spaces: Places Where Reality Feels Altered – Oddysey
More: Places Where Reality Is A Bit Altered – Tumblr

 

Books are immortality