Down the Rabbit Hole

Collidge and Cloves

I received a trigger this am that I'm not updating my blog lately, which translates into the fact that I'm not writing...anything. That's not holding up my end of the bargain for keeping the craft fresh. Fortunately some playful banter with a few old college friends provided some inspiration for me....

The smell of the clove cigarette drifted across the wall of her senses awaking a long ago memory that slumbered like a dragon in the dark recesses of her mind. As she turned the corner, Elson saw the smoker, a scrawny teen perched on a ratty skateboard, a cellular phone tucked between his head and shoulder. As Elson passed by the teen, she inhaled the sweet smoke and the memory floated up with a clarity that was almost painful.

Maya had loved clove cigarettes. She had purchased them in flat metal boxes and smoked the long, dark sticks with the dedication of a true addict. She wore their scent like a perfume and after kissing her, Elson’s tongue and lips would often be left with their tell-tale tingle. The memory of those kisses made Elson’s stomach roll and she trapped an involuntary moan in the back of her throat.

Pomegrantes, those had been Maya’s other vice. She would buy them by the bushel then polish them off, one by one, her fingers prying free bloody seed after bloody seed and then sucking them into her heart-shaped mouth. The damp, eviscerated rinds had a bitter smell that, as much as the cloves, became a part of her signature scent.

Clove cigarettes and pomegrantes, two things that could spirit her off to a time when her entire world was ruled by an olive-skinned pixie with twitching hazel pools. Maya had been her awakening and her ruin in barely the space of one calendar year. The magnetism and passion between them made the implosion of their relationship all the more devastating. When it all came crashing down, it left Elson wanting and wounded in a way she never really recovered from.