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Dec. 28th, 2005 11:56 amWhat is one thing you have learned from your past?
Kate stood in the brush surrounding the beach encampment, just watching as Jack made his rounds. She lived for these moments, these quiet little times when she could hide and just take him in...his physical beauty (a man like him went beyond handsome or sexy, there was beauty to be found in every curve of muscle and plane of skin), his warmth, his compassion and humanity.
It was the only way she could look back at her own past and feel a sense of safety.
That’s what Jack was to her...he was Tom, good and decent...her mother, emotionally scarred and dependent on certain things to keep her alive and happy, no matter how bad they might be...her surrogate father, unable to do anything less than what was right, even if it meant calling the law on his own daughter, but filled with the mercy to give her a head start.
He was everything good in her past, but as broken and twisted as she was, and it had taken him to make her see...there was no running from it. Any of it...because in the end, it always found you. It would never let you go, and it would never stop chasing you.
Kate couldn’t face the past...no matter how much hope for the future it might bring.
And that was why she knew she could never have him.
* * * * *
Describe a dream that you've had. How did the dream make you feel?
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve had a recurring dream that’s haunted me...the kind of dream that stays with you and stalks your every waking moment.
And it involves that damn black horse.
In my dreams it’s a stallion...I always loved the book as a child. I’d be lost outside somewhere...it changed from time to time from a forest to a beach to, yes, a deserted island. But the horse was always there. I’d be lost and afraid, and that horse would ride into view in the distance. It’d stop right beside me and bend its head down, let me pet its mane, tame as a kitten. It would finally kneel down so I could climb on its back and take off. With the wind in my hair and the sound of its hooves beating the ground, I’d feel a sense of exhilaration and freedom I could never find when I was awake, no matter how hard I tried.
Then I’d feel something else, something that always woke me up, leaving me in a cold sweat, shaking and panting, and finally sobbing in my bed.
I still have that dream, and I still have that feeling...that terrible sensation, the one insidious, diabolical vice I can’t let go of, no matter how hard I try. It’s the feeling I could only find in sleep, on the back of a glorious black stallion.
Hope.
Kate stood in the brush surrounding the beach encampment, just watching as Jack made his rounds. She lived for these moments, these quiet little times when she could hide and just take him in...his physical beauty (a man like him went beyond handsome or sexy, there was beauty to be found in every curve of muscle and plane of skin), his warmth, his compassion and humanity.
It was the only way she could look back at her own past and feel a sense of safety.
That’s what Jack was to her...he was Tom, good and decent...her mother, emotionally scarred and dependent on certain things to keep her alive and happy, no matter how bad they might be...her surrogate father, unable to do anything less than what was right, even if it meant calling the law on his own daughter, but filled with the mercy to give her a head start.
He was everything good in her past, but as broken and twisted as she was, and it had taken him to make her see...there was no running from it. Any of it...because in the end, it always found you. It would never let you go, and it would never stop chasing you.
Kate couldn’t face the past...no matter how much hope for the future it might bring.
And that was why she knew she could never have him.
* * * * *
Describe a dream that you've had. How did the dream make you feel?
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve had a recurring dream that’s haunted me...the kind of dream that stays with you and stalks your every waking moment.
And it involves that damn black horse.
In my dreams it’s a stallion...I always loved the book as a child. I’d be lost outside somewhere...it changed from time to time from a forest to a beach to, yes, a deserted island. But the horse was always there. I’d be lost and afraid, and that horse would ride into view in the distance. It’d stop right beside me and bend its head down, let me pet its mane, tame as a kitten. It would finally kneel down so I could climb on its back and take off. With the wind in my hair and the sound of its hooves beating the ground, I’d feel a sense of exhilaration and freedom I could never find when I was awake, no matter how hard I tried.
Then I’d feel something else, something that always woke me up, leaving me in a cold sweat, shaking and panting, and finally sobbing in my bed.
I still have that dream, and I still have that feeling...that terrible sensation, the one insidious, diabolical vice I can’t let go of, no matter how hard I try. It’s the feeling I could only find in sleep, on the back of a glorious black stallion.
Hope.
