Project: Akimoto

In Search of Lost Time

That madeleine moment,

Dunked in tea.

Precious fragments

Of the past,

Involuntary, unbidden,

Brought on by a certain, specific smell,

Triggering chains

(autobiographical)

Temporal, traumatic.

Recurrent research reactivates

To elicit positive emotional effects.

The bibliophile in the library,

Evoking borrowed memories.

The Alley

Jana had taken this shortcut through the alley hundreds of times. She knew which backyards could be seen clearly along the dirt path and which ones were hidden by tall fences. She knew which yards contained loud, barking dogs and which had friendly cats that would welcome the occasional ear-scritch. She had memorized the careful placement of trash-cans, and the neighbors who would spend the evening on their back porch, greeting her with a friendly wave. Not only would this particular shortcut save her a good twenty minutes of time, it would take her far from the busy road she lived on. On the sidewalk by that road, she faced regular cat-calls and inappropriate offers that made her shoulders shrink and her insides squirm. The alley had always been her friend, her ally, her quick path to her own lovely backyard. In her head, she could already see her back gate, hear the rusty creek of its hinges, smell the scent of elder-flowers wafting from the large bush by her kitchen window. 

Something was different about the alley this evening, though. She felt sinister, unseen eyes lurking in the shadows that awaited her, causing her stomach to flop and the fine, blonde hairs to raise on her arms and the nape of her neck.

“I’m being silly,” Jana said to herself, hardening her resolve. She had already lost precious time making a decision and scaring herself with her own wild imagination. She was wasting time that could be spent finishing her homework, time she could be using chatting with her friends online. With a final, decisive glance toward the flashing headlights of the busy road, Jana turned to the darkened alley.

Jana never made it home that night. 

From Inside the Room

She awoke, her mind in a fog, trying to remember where she was and how she’d gotten here. Her head was pounding and she was nauseated. Had she been drinking? The last thing she remembered was the café, and the man, and the smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and the chill that smile made her feel. She tried to move, and couldn’t determine if she was having difficulty because of whatever she’d had to drink, or for some other reason she wasn’t willing to accept yet. The room was small and dark, but clean. The walls were white and windowless. There was a closed door. She was laying on something fluffy and comfortable, but she needed to pee and could tell she’d been here too long by the ache in her muscles. Struggling to get up again and finding she could not, she slowly craned her head up. It was exactly as she’d feared. Her wrists were tied to the elaborate metal headboard, and her ankles secured to the footboard. She felt her heart rate increase.

From Across the Room

She spotted him from across the busy coffee shop. He’d been looking at her moments before but averted his eyes down to his phone when she looked at him. His black hair was strategically messy and his five o’clock shadow seemed intentionally scruffy. As she watched him, he looked at her again and smiled, calculatedly embarrassed. Feeling her heart flutter, she smiled back and waved. Steeling her nerves, she picked up her mocha and maneuvered her way between patrons to his small table. 

“Is this seat taken?” she asked, sheepish. 

“No, please go ahead,” he responded in a low baritone.

She smiled and sat across from him, sealing her fate. Finally, the plan he’d been putting into place for weeks was set into motion.

reblog to give the person you reblogged from the strength to complete The Task™

Hazel slashed her borrowed sword through the spiny, overgrown vines, creating a jagged path to the crumbling castle. She was grateful for her secondhand armor–she could hear the thorns scraping angrily against the metal, longing to tear her flesh but unable to gain purchase. She wondered how many knights had failed simply because they could move no further without a steed (surely, no horse would endure the torture of a thousand tangled scratches) or blinded by forgetting to secure the visor of their helmet. Hazel’s visor may have been twisted in spots and rusting in others, but she had ensured it would hold against the terrors of the vines. She was thankful for the months of studying she’d ensured prior to her quest. She’d snuck into her father’s shop to repair her brother's weathered armor as best she could, and she appreciated her efforts had not been in vain.

Hazel was panting by the time she reached the other side of the vines and beheld the castle. She heard rustling behind her and turned to watch the foliage wrapping unnaturally around itself to fill the hole she’d made.

“Well,” she breathed, “that’s unnerving.”

In spite of her misgivings, she moved toward the castle. The keep was surrounded by a moat, and the only access an aging drawbridge that was shut tight. Hazel peered over the edge of the moat. There were no monsters lurking in the murky waters, but if she fell in with full armor, she would quickly sink to her death. She could see the remnants of metal within the muddy depths and glimpsed what may have been a bony arm. The water wasn’t deep, but it was enough.

Undaunted, Hazel pulled her crossbow from her back and checked the knotwork on the rope she'd tied to the bolt. She put her foot in the stirrup and pulled the string back to the catch, loaded the bolt, aimed, and fired. The bolt shot true and lodged itself firmly between two large stones at the top of the wall. Hazel yanked the rope as hard as she could, and when it held, she leaned back with her full weight. The bolt remained solidly in place. She wrapped the rope around her arm. This was a moment of truth–she could walk away now and avoid the possibility of a watery grave, or she could take a literal leap of faith. She closed her eyes and lept...

https://vocal.media/pride/the-knight-s-error

Things Hidden

The road

Was all we could see

For a few feet, only

As we passed through Enchantment,

And only our imaginations

Could dream 

What was hidden in

That Fog;

Were there eyes

Watching us pass?

Were there secrets

We were never meant to know?

On we traveled

And the haze parted

We made it home...

Though maybe 

Just barely?