I was different. I knew I was. Never being accepted for who I was or what I represented. Most of my childhood had been words of can’t you be more like your sibling? Why don’t you want to do what I say? These words were still instilled to me today, dripping from my soul, like maple syrup from a tree.
One day I reached the age of maturity, or the level of being able to legally make my own decisions. I decided against the world. I chose the road less traveled.
I packed my backpack and my gear bag, and leaving a note behind for them, telling them I had to leave, but I loved them, don’t blame yourselves, I am who I am and I have to be me, I left, never looking back.
My shadow followed me to nowhere, and everywhere. I stopped along the roadsides, and took out my blank papers and sketched what my eyes drank in from this earth.
I slept under the stars, with golden eyes watching over me. I wandered from town to city, I sat on the curbs or the street benches, and I sketched. People drawing near to see the finished product, some dropping change and green into my bag. Others asking if I could sketch their faces for their loved ones.
All of this brought me money to continue my journey. A view from an artist’s eyes put down on paper. I traveled through small ghost towns, and also top name cities. Each place I stopped brought me opportunities to learn different faces, to chat for a time, to share a meal with another soul.
Once when I had stopped for a few days in a city named Los Angelas, a person hiding in the shadows was watching my hands at work. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, but there was no fear showing in my face.
People came and went, the money was filling my bag, and then a one hundred-dollar bill was dropped into my lap. I gasped and looked up, straight into the eyes of the stranger who had been hiding, but was now out of the shadows.
He spoke in a calm voice, letting me know that he liked my work, telling me that I had a special talent. He wanted to pay for a sitting, and was this enough for her fee. She went to work immediately, folding over the page she had been working on, and getting a clean page to start sketching.
He sat very still not moving his mouth, and she ran her mind down his silhouette, lingering over his broad jaw bone and those full lips, that curved into smiles. She began to ponder on what it would be like to make love to his neck that was strong and the broad shoulders that trickled with muscular designs.
She sensed that he could feel the heat escaping from her body as desires began to take over, so moving to the side of him, leaving more space between the two, she finished her sketch and showed him her finished product.
He stared at the page intently, taking in her lines and shadows that portrayed himself, and he looked at her and there was a smile of approval. He got ready to leave and thanked her for her work, and walked away, but turning back once to ask if he could take her to lunch, as he was hungry, and he was sure she would be too.
She picked up her supplies and placed them in her bag, and followed him to a small cafe, where they both ordered sandwiches and a brew. Not much speaking was done over eating, but looks showed their hunger for each other. Heat began to fill the booth, and the room became empty of all others sitting near by. It was the two of them alone in the world, yearning, wanting and needing each other.
After paying the bill the two walked out the back door and he threw her up against the brick wall of the building and lifting her shirt up he kissed her. Ripples formed and a domino affect traveled through out her body. She touched him and a force so strong burst out of her body, that she clung to him and raked nails down the back of his shirt.
He lowered her body until they met exactly where two thirsty bodies united as one. Sweat pouring from each skin, as they let their lust escape into each other. He covered her mouth as a scream of delight tried to escape her sweet lips and soon they were both standing on firm ground and feelings had gained their reward.
He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and lit one for himself and offered her one also, but she refused. Breathing was back to normal, urges had been replaced by calmness.
They promised to keep in touch, and she told him she would be moving on tomorrow, and he agreed to see her once more before she left town. They departed, going back to the road less traveled, and the next day after making a few dollars, she packed her things up and moved on once again.
A few years had passed and the roads that were traveled had crossed. He married and had two children, and in one city the family was visiting, they entered an art gallery, and there in the center stage, showing the center fold of her work, was the artist he had met on the street years ago, and he smiled to himself, as he thought about how he was right, that this girl had talent, and had found her place in this world.
Thank you Kellie for another chance to write for you!