Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Tara Part: Act one, Scene Four. Tiny Dancer.
Tara Part: Act one, Scene Four. Tiny Dancer.
By Mark William Darus.
Continued from previous Scene:
<He’s gazing at her like that of a lover waiting to hold the one of his desire.
“My name’s Bill. Very nice to meet you, Tara.”
Beautiful landscape shifting about with the movement of the sun creating a swirling effect surrounding them through dancing shadows and mist.
Through the tossing clouds, a single beam of light from the sun lands upon them.
Tara and Bill embrace. Like that of lovers wanting a comfy place to lay, they draw each other closer.>
Holding one another with a grip almost constricting, the lonely, beckoning sounds of a Hammond B-3 begins to play from the very mists surrounding them. Procol Harums Whiter Shade of Pale churns forth filling the valley of tall bright green heather and pretty flowers with its song of desperate longing.
Tara and Bill totally alone in this dream-world, their bodies intertwined, begin to sway as one, pelvis’ fused together, turning, writhing, backs arching in unison. Their heads slowly leave the others shoulders as their faces meet, eyes locked to one another. Tara looking at him with such a look of need, wanting acceptance from another, getting lost as she sees her own reflection in his eyes. Bill, wanting her, not knowing why, having no past memories to fall back on for reference to aide him, stares back at her, frightened though not displaying it.
…We skipped a light fandango…
Rhythmically gliding to their left, joined fully, their foreheads gently meet as their noses so lightly touch. Crickets chirp and birds call out to the setting sun as the clouds disperse, giving the purest of vibrant, darkening blue skies as the music plays on.
‘Finally, sweet Jesus. I am happy! I’ve found one that wants me as I am’ Tara thinks. Serenity filling her face, tears of happiness running down her cheeks, arms around Bill tightly holding fast. ‘If this is a dream, may I please die here and now.’
…Turned cartwheels ‘cross the floor…
Dancing on ever so slowly, taking in the wondrous emotional sensations of finding someone as darkness descends further, bodies and minds carrying the slightly distracting, yet comforting dizziness. The moon began to shine over the mountain to their left as the sun dives to its days ending. The B-3 smashing onward with its unique qualities as the drummer plays on.
A meteor breaches from the heavens leaving a slash of white as its tail crosses the horizon.
….that I wandered through my playing cards…
Bill, holding Tara’s small waist, liking the feeling of her breasts against his chest, his penis swelling and not knowing why it does so, follows her lead and does as her movements convey.
…I was feeling kind of seasick…
Tara and Bill shared this moment in time. There was a solid connection between them as love filled Tara’s fragile heart with better places of tomorrows beyond anything she had known or hoped before.
…that her face at first turned ghostly…
The mountain area surrounding her began to disappear, the crickets songs going quiet, the scent of flowers parting company with her steadily.
“NO!” Tara cries out! ‘no-no-no-no,’ her mind sadly pleads as her muscles begin to tense up. ‘noooooo.’
Laying restrained to a bed of many horrible memories she is not happily connected with, afraid to open her eyes, yet scared of keeping them closed, stunned. Tara’s head begins to swim groggy waters as dreamland goes to drug induced awakenings.
“nooooooooo,” she mutters.
“Tara, we’re glad you’re back!” an overweight LPN says to her.
“What’s that, Tara?”
“I’m not gla-” Tara is shut down as another voice is heard.
“I’m still here with you, Tara. I love you and I will never leave you,” Bill's gentle voice attempts to grant her some peace.
“Bill! This night was special, wasn’t it?” Tara begins to sob as blood vessels on her brow pronounce themselves.
“Yes, it was, m’love. I am yours.”
The LPN, a second shift new hire, stood there wondering who Tara was speaking to her back-right. Looking over her shoulder as the single person holding both parts of a conversation with female and male voice ran on, had a feeling cross her about her latest job choice.
…turned a whiter shade of pale…
“Thank you for being real, Bill! I love you…” Tara said as the drugs wore off, happily facing a new beginning. A life new infront of her, with Bill.
Mark William Darus 09262012
Authors Note: This being the fourth part of Tara’s adult life, my fifth entry about her on Psychopathy: Another Life, I am grateful that I can keep writing about her.
Tara is most dear to me in many regards. She has been a constant companion to me over the decades. The kind of friend that can be so far away yet never far from the sincerest places of mind and heart.
I have to thank Procol Harum. I played this song repeatedly while I spent nearly three hours writing this. One of the best songs ever written: Whiter Shade of Pale.
Also: Thanks to the producers and writers of the TV show House, for making me remember the importance of this song.