It was a really productive day. I finished Chapter 22 in Blessed By Light, and now Chapter 23 awaits.
I’m not sure where it’s going to go but I know I only have about 20-40 more pages left to write. And probably closer to the “20” side of things.
It makes me sad because I have really loved writing this novel. I know it needs to end and I need to move on and give my play, Tell My Bones, 110% of my attention, but I’m still a little sad.
Okay. Onward. I’m gonna do yoga, then study my Italian and probably practice on the guitar until the sun goes down. Another storm is fast approaching and the lights keep threatening to go out.
Here are the final pages of Chapter 22/d. Diamonds in the Fire. Approx. 3 pages.
Have a great evening, gang. I love you! See ya!
Excerpted from Blessed By Light, Chapter 22/d. Diamonds in the Fire. These are the final pages of this section. This is still during the night that they're trying to have sex for the first time after his heart attack and after his best friend, George, was killed. ✽✽✽ No, just turn over. Come on. I’ll do the work now. You’ve gotta be worn out, girl. Don’t you worry too much about me. When I’m with you like this I stop listening to my heartbeat, stop wondering if this is the moment when it will stop for good. Because all of life and everything I’ve lived and felt and put out into the world and received from the world and felt overwhelmed by and grabbed by the horns and got to the helm of and learned how to manage, to ride, to flow with, to orchestrate and to sort of control – All of those people. Thousands of people. My ego just rises to the rafters. Or flies out into the night. So many people. Singing the songs. Songs I wrote while closed up in some room, thinking too much, working it out on my guitar. Making it rhyme. All of that was underscored by a beating heart that I never once noticed, never once heard or consciously listened to; and I’m gonna trust that heartbeat now; that it’ll keep on beating until it knows its rhythm has come full circle and is finally done. What’s done is done for a reason, honey. I know for sure about that now. I’m not gonna walk on eggshells around my own heartbeat, especially when I have you underneath me like this, taking in all this love. It still feels so good, you know? Being inside a girl. My dick, a slave to your pussy, honey. Forever and always. It just feels so good. What is it about that rhythm? The sex rhythm. It just takes over my dick. And you meet me every time, with every thrust – with so much abandon. What is that rhythm, honey? The heart beats. Our sex beats. My music beats. Like the waves pound that shore. Rhythm everywhere. Why is that and where does it come from? And, honey, where is it gonna lead to when I leave here? Someplace incredible, I bet. I think George will tell me about it. Some night when I’m alone in the kitchen. He already knows. Isn’t that something to think about? He already knows. What sex is meant to be – before we got here, what was it? And after we’ve gone, what does that rhythm turn out to be? It’s gotta mean something big, don’t you think? Sex has got to mean something more than just bringing more people here – babies, I mean. It feels too good. Why does it feel so good if it isn’t meant to be pointing us in the direction of something so much more? What is it that’s really happening when I’m inside you like this and your pussy just feels so goddamned good? Christ. Oh. Fuck. Just like that. ✽✽✽ That kind of thing. That’s what I’m talking about. Where did you learn to do that? Or are girls just born knowing? ✽✽✽ Here comes that rain. Listen to it, honey. Isn’t it the prettiest sound? It’s comforting when it sounds just like this and the wind dies down and the thunder’s done. Have you ever been somewhere where there was a tin roof and the rain came? My grandma had a house like that. Almost a shack, really – now that I think about it. But she was real happy there. And we’d always go over and see her, stay overnight; me, my little brother, and then my sister, when she came along. My grandma spoiled us something fierce. She was sweet and she was fine. She’d let us stay up so late. She didn’t have TV. She taught us how to sing songs. “She’ll Be Comin’ ‘Round the Mountain” - oh we just loved that one. Sang the heck out of it, me and my little brother. She told us stories, too – claimed they were true. About the family. In the real old days. My mama told me later that the stories were a little bit “enhanced” but that, for the most part, they were true. And we didn’t know that Grandma was sort of poor; that she didn’t have much. We didn’t notice any of that. We always just had so much fun. But she had a little house with an old tin roof and when the rain came we were all in there together – me, my brother, my sister, my grandma; safe, happy. My drunk old man far, far away somewhere, keeping his belt on for a change, or at least not using it on us. It was nice. So safe. Just like how I feel here with you, right this red-hot minute, honey. Where does it all go? You gotta wonder. ✽✽✽ You are a greedy little thing tonight. No, don’t stop – I was just teasing you. I can’t resist your mouth. I wouldn’t even wanna try. And if I can get it up again, nothing would make me happier. You know that. Go on. Leverage my flaw a little bit, honey. Let’s play the man and not the odds. See if we can’t turn this situation around. ✽✽✽ This is just like that dream. My god. Just like it. Your mouth feels so soft Whoa. Whoa. Who are you, honey, really? Who taught you to suck dick like this? Don’t tell me you were born knowing how to – Oh Christ. No no no no – No. Honey. Don’t. Don’t. I wanna fuck you again. Come on. Get up here. Don’t! Shit. Well, that was nice. But you don’t play fair, you know that? I love you, sweetie. Just so much. Wow. Look out there. The sun’s coming up. © 2019 Marilyn Jaye Lewis