The Strangeling Part VIII - (Freewrite 136 - belt)

Greetings fellow Steemians! Here is my 11th 5 minute* freewrite. The prompt is "belt".

*Not 5 minute this time, 90 minute ;)

This piece is a continuation of yesterday's freewrite, and the third installment in an ongoing story. Let's see how long I can keep this up, using the prompts provided!

Part I: https://steemit.com/freewrite/@bennettitalia/freewrite-129-fingernail

Part II: https://steemit.com/freewrite/@bennettitalia/the-strangeling-part-ii-freewrite-130-wasps

Part III: https://steemit.com/freewrite/@bennettitalia/the-strangeling-part-iii-freewrite-131-solitude

Part IV: https://steemit.com/freewrite/@bennettitalia/the-strangeling-part-iv-freewrite-132-gardening

Part V: https://steemit.com/freewrite/@bennettitalia/the-strangeling-part-v-freewrite-132-the-attic

Part VI: https://steemit.com/freewrite/@bennettitalia/the-strangeling-part-vi-freewrite-132-plaid

Part VII: https://steemit.com/weekendfreewrite/@bennettitalia/the-strangeling-part-vii-weekend-freewrite-3-3-2018

Freewriting is a daily practice for most poets and fiction writers, designed to loosen up and get things flowing, like stretching before exercise. Visual artists, especially those who draw or paint from life (figures, landscapes, still lives, etc) do something similar in "gesture drawings". After reading several of @poetrybyjeremy's freewrite posts, I got excited to try these again. Many thanks to @mariannewest for hosting this daily freewrite! https://steemit.com/freewrite/@mariannewest/day-136-5-minute-freewrite-sunday-prompt-belt

https://pixabay.com/en/medium-psychic-female-fantasy-woman-goth-1726601/

She strode off purposefully in the direction of the river. I followed without speaking. I had no idea where we were headed, but whatever she had in mind, at least she had a plan of some sort. I had nothing.

We walked for an hour, maybe longer. We moved through wide avenues, past tall, clean, expansive buildings that housed ambassadors, stock brokers, pop stars. We walked until the world became darker, dingier, less friendly. Abandoned warehouses. Tenements. Bodegas that might or might not have been fronts for who knows what. A place where you didn't want to ask too many questions, probe too deeply.

I walked as close to her as possible, my thresholds set as high as I could stand, listening. If anything were to happen to her... I laughed at myself, softly, so she wouldn't hear. Man, had I ever done a 180. From hunter to... what? Lover? I looked at her. Yes. Yes, lover. God I hoped so, I thought, with an ache I hadn't felt in a long time, would never have imagined I'd feel again. I felt like a teenager when I looked at her. A hormonal idiot. I shook myself out of it, rechecked my Senses, made sure we were still safe.

She was shivering slightly, not from cold. It was full summer. From effort. So much for her to hold at bay, the focus required must have been superhuman. I hoped we'd arrive at our destination soon...

A few more blocks and she stopped, turned into an alley. We walked through the dark to a small door in an ornately carved stone frame.

A church. This was the back door of a church.

She didn't knock, just stood there and looked at the door intently. Time passed. I was too busy focusing on the activity in our environment to ask what we were doing, but if the door didn't open soon, we were going to have to move.

There were two of them. They'd been tailing us for the last block or so, hanging back just enough to avoid being noticed, except by someone like me. Amateurs. Their movements and body language fit the MO of potential assailants. I listened. Waited. The Strangeling stood, staring at the door, not moving. The distance was closing faster now. They has seen us enter the alley and smelled blood. I reached out to touch her arm, pull her away.

And then the door opened. A small, neat, round face appeared at it, gave the Strangeling a look, and swung the door open for us. As we walked in, I felt a familiar sensation, sharp at a distance, then numbing. A sting. Our would-be assailants had been diverted. The Wasps were doing their job.

We stopped just inside the door. The church was dark, but there was enough light to see that it was a long time since it had been used for its intended purpose. There were no pews. In the middle of the room was a blackened ring of stones and random chunks of concrete. A fire pit. There was a pile of wood nearby, scraps of construction material, sticks, pieces of darkly polished wood... ah, that was where the pews had gone. The stained glass was mostly intact, but a couple of the windows had been boarded up. There was graffiti everywhere: fantastical creatures, cryptic symbols, surreal landscapes, nudes. Statues of saints had been painted to look like superheroes or monsters. Paintings had been modified: here was Saint Cecilia as a mermaid, Saint Francis as a faun, Saint Jude as a genie. There were collages made with posters from subways, magazine clippings, labels from old wine bottles, stolen street signs. A statue of Christ on the cross had been painted from toe to thorny crown with exquisite rainbow patterns, Huichol style. His once mournful face wore a strange, exultant smile, and his eyes had been painted glowing neon pink. The scarce light came from votive candles, still set in their sconces along the walls. Only a couple of them were lit.

Our host, now facing the Strangeling, reached out and took her hands, held them for a long moment, then nodded and let go. She turned to face me. She looked very young, except for the delicate crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, barely visible. Her caramel skin and rosy cheeks were beautiful, and there was a glow about her, despite her rather ragged appearance. Her eyes were dark, almond shaped, gleaming in the candlelight.

"Give me your belt" she said.

For a second I was caught off guard, too stunned to think of anything to say. Then I found my tongue: "Umm... ok, why?"

"I don't trust you", she said. "I can't read you".

I looked at the Strangeling. "Is she modded?"

A shake of the head. "No, she's just like that. Born that way".

Apricot shrugged. "I'm not like Mia", she said matter of factly. "I'm not like you either. I'm just me. Give me the belt."

Mia! That was her name. I had never even asked, she had always just been "the Strangeling".

My Strangeling.

Mia.

I removed the belt and handed it over. She walked to the statue of Jesus and buckled it around his colorful, emaciated waist. When she came back, her eyes were dancing. She held her hand out, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I'm Apricot. Pleased to meet you".

©2018 Bennett Italia