Prayers

He holds my hand in his. He tells me I just have to listen. He tells me we don’t have to get too close. He tells me the concert is outside. He tells me we just have to get close enough to hear.

He is begging me. He knows I don’t like crowds. He knows I like music. He knows I haven’t left the house since I got there.

He tells me he wants to show me more of his world. His eyes are excited. Blazing green.

His hands are warm on mine. I smile at his excitement. He tells me I won’t regret it. He kisses my hand. He gives me his jacket.

We get on his motorcycle. We drive for a while. I hear music in the distance. Heavy drums and voices echo to me. He parks his bike on the edge of the lot. I tell him we can get closer.

He grabs my hand. Tells me not to let go. He pulls me through the crowd. The drums reverberate through my chest. My heart begins to beat in the same time.

He stops us close to the stage; pulls me in front of him. My back to his chest, he wraps his arms around me. He tells me he will protect me.

I know he is telling me the truth.

We stand there and listen to the drums. The sound swirling around us before lifting to the heavens as prayers for whatever gods are there.

I feel his heart beating against my back. His chest rising and falling with each breath.

I wonder if he could feel my heart.

My breath.

I close my eyes.

I offer my own prayer to be lifted up.

I will the Gods to hear it.
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Prayers by Idgie Stark is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Author: idgiestark

Writer of things.