Wednesday, September 12, 2012

I had a feeling...

Let the sense of touch be the influence in your fiction today.  Minimize the other senses and focus on touch for today.

1 comment:


    The bandage has been off for a week now, but Ben McDermitt felt they may as well had stayed on. His vision was gone. Ben had been warned that the procedure was experimental. But he had hoped he would provide the answers the surgeons were seeking.

    The explosion was devastating; the reverberation had taken out two square miles. He should feel lucky to be alive, they told him.
    But McDermitt felt all but lucky. His sight was taken from him and the trauma to his eardrums gave good indication that he would lose his hearing next.

    He sat feeling betrayed. He felt abandoned. Ben felt anger and depression and isolation. But all he wanted at the moment was to feel whole. Hell, he just wanted to feel.

    The latch on the door clicked quietly, but he was oblivious to it. For all he knew, Ben was alone. It was a surprise when he felt the soft caress against his cheek. He pulled back not knowing if the intent was friendly or an opportunity to finish him off.

    The hand stroked his face tenderly; assuredly. His hand came up slowly and covered the stroking appendage. It was soft, small compared to his. He felt the soft tuft of hairs just above the wrist. Ben felt the drag of pointed fingernails on the underside of his hand. Who is she, McDermitt wondered?

    Both of his hands now touched her hands. They clutched each other briefly. It felt comforting. Safe. Ben explored further up her arms. Her upper arms were slightly muscular, surely fitness was important to her. Her slender shoulders tapered to her long neck. She was a swan, a graceful transition spelling grace and gentility.

    Ben's meaty hands reached her cheeks, cupping her high cheekbones in his palms. Again softness was his reward. Thumbs trace across her eyelids and ran down her nose to her lips. McDermitt felt the tender kiss there as her hands came up to grasp his wrists and continue to kiss his palms.

    He could not see her beauty. He could not hear her song. But he felt the love that resided there, who ever she was. She separated his hands and leaned forward to replace her kiss on his lips. Long and passionate and dark and curious. She moved his hands lower, bringing them to her chest. His right hand nestled palm down between her breasts feeling her heartbeat. Her hands covered his; he felt her sigh.

    He could not see her beauty. He could not hear her song. But they made love through that caress. Tender and loving, it could be only one person. He felt it in his heart. He saw her in his mind. McDermitt knew everything he needed to know.