by Christopher Anderson

Created on: October 17, 2008

The Kiss Of An Unusual Girl

An unusual thing happened to me one night in October nearly eight years ago. It was just a few months before my twenty-fourth birthday, something extraordinary and it changed my forever. I was up late into the night, as usual, and sunrise seemed a lifetime away. The always elusive sleep refused to visit me once again, so I lay awake in my bed with sobering images of lovers around the city watching late night television or making love before drifting off to sleep in each others arms, or nestled in warm beds soundly sleeping deep in a lovers embrace, in others I saw night lights illuminating carpeted hallways in loving suburban homes miles away from the noisy bright neighboring metropolis.

The air had begun to change the signs of winter, I suppose, there was a palpable electricity circulating in the wind streams, it was alive possessing a presence Id never felt before or had merely escaped my senses until that night. The wind whisked through the tops of the willow trees with a soft rustling sound, like the soft brush of an invisible preternatural hand tenderly stroking the canopy creating shadows throughout the room that danced and moved back and fourth against the walls. Turning on my side, my head still cradled on my pillow, I stared at the animated figures the shadows cast on the wall, this is usually how I fell asleep, but tonight a story began to unfold and as if charmed I watched from my front row seat..

On the theatre that was the wall of my room, a ballet of the trees manifested and came alive, swaying to the rhythm of the night like outstretched arms with reaching fingers dancing back and fourth. The moon was low in the heavens animating the scene further, amongst the shadows a figure ran, weaving in and out of the spaces just out of reach of the branches. It was a girl I think, yes it was a girl, she was fleet of foot, running just ahead of the tendril like grasp of the branches, an exotic waif of a girl, thin and without shoes running swiftly through a field of large scattered willow trees brushing aside the branches with her hand as she passed them by, only her gown billowing behind her betrayed the speed at which she was traveling. The branches of the willow trees seemed to reach for her and grasped at her gown, as if to prevent her from passing, she effortlessly brushed them aside with her arms, never stopping for breath or pause. She snapped her head around quickly, as if her pursuers would be upon her if she slowed, her

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