Yellowspotlight89

I really fuckin hate this caption.

So because they are black women with weave on their heads it has to turn into something negative? A bad depiction of black women, stereotyped, bc why???

@saturnineaqua: wouldnt it be fun to see sasil be frisky, and in love, and conversing, instead of going headlong into tragedy???

@davegroehlsdrums: a possible prompt: Sally Ann tells Hasil about getting stood up once before. Prom maybe? Dunno.

The afternoon had slipped through their fingers so easily, so quickly, making Hasil wish he somehow had the power to suspend time, to encase this moment in glass and then remain in it with her for the rest of his days. 

They hadn’t been doing much at all, just talking, sitting side by side, telling stories in quiet voices and learning each other’s ways. She had told him about growing up down below the mountain, all the wild stories she had heard as a child about his family, and how the older boys would dare each other to take a brief foray onto Farrell land in the low foothills of the mountain, only to run back in panic after being spooked by the snap of a branch or a bird flapping by. She told him about her schooling, how she had learned about the world and everything in it, how she had read books written by people who lived and died hundreds of years ago. He had just listened, entranced, his heart filled with wonder that such things were possible, just as he felt a sudden wave of melancholy with the realization that these things – for now at least – remained beyond his grasp. 

He had finally thought to ask her about the words she had used to describe their failed attempt at a date, what it had meant when she said she’d been “stood up” before. It hadn’t involved standing up so much as sitting down, she said, waiting for an arrival, a knock on the door, until finally having to admit that no one would be coming. He hadn’t been the first, he remembered her saying, and now he understood the full import of that statement, how he had just seemed like another in a long line of men that had made her promises and failed to deliver on them. But she was wrong about the other part – he would be the last. Because at this moment, Hasil swore to himself that wouldn’t give her any cause to doubt him ever again.  

Inside his cabin, it had grown dark, the light slowly fading away and the shadows lengthening into the corners of the room. Already, he could hear the twilight sounds, all the creaking and calling from the wilds beyond, a music as familiar to him as his own breathing.

He stood up, stretching a little on his feet, as he walked over to the table where he had a pair of hand-held lanterns. He was lighting the first one when he saw her lean half-way off the mattress so she could reach for something inside her bag.

“Almost forgot,” she said. “Brought something for you.”

“Ya didn’t bring nothin’ for me,” he said, smiling at the ridiculousness of her thought that he might want anything else up here besides just her.

“I did. Grabbed it from work yesterday. And it’s not much – don’t get too excited.” 

As she sat back down on the bed, he could see what she held, fully within the grasp of her palm, bright and round. He knew what it was, of course, but it had been a long time since he’d seen one.

“It’s an orange, Hasil.”

“I know…” he replied. “I’s seen an orange b‘fore… it’s jus’… Ya brought this for me?”

“Yeah… well, I thought maybe we could share it.” And then she smiled, dropping her gaze in that tiny way that always made his heart turn in circles within his chest. 

“Here,” she said, as she started to dig her thumbnail into the rind. But even as he lit the second lantern and put it back down on the table, he could see that she had only been able to peel off tiny bits of the surface. “Sorry,” she said, quickly looking up at him. “My nails are short…” 

“Lemme have it,” he said, taking it from her outstretched hand just as he pulled his knife out of its sheath on his belt. With a single continuous motion, he spiraled his knife across its circumference, until all that was left was a long strip of bright orange rind and the fruit itself, which he passed back to her. The smell of it – fresh and sweetly ripe – permeated the small space, filling the corners of his mind, even as it was currently occupied with thoughts of how the evening shadows were dancing across the tiny curves of her face. 

“C’mon,” she said, tilting her head towards the open space next to her on the mattress as she dug her fingertips into the flesh of the orange. She handed him a piece, and he was just about to taste it when he could hear the stir of movement from outside his cabin. Not an animal, he knew, not with the shuffling scrape of feet against the dirt, not with the faint cry of combined male voices joined in easy companionship.

He handed her back the orange slice, silently lifting his index finger to his lips, just as he heard the first words from outside.

“Hasil, ya in there?”

He recognized the voice as belonging to his second cousin, Micah, and from the sound of it, there were a few others with him, probably not more than thirty feet away from his front door.

Giving her one last look, one tiny nod of the head in mutual understanding, he scrambled off the bed and trotted outside into the darkness. There were a half-dozen of his cousins, including Micah, clearly on their way somewhere.

“Hey,” he said, as casually as he could manage. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“We’s all headed down to the barn. Gonna enjoy som’ brew, play som’ black an’ red. Ya comin’?”

“Nah, not t’night,” Hasil answered.

“Ah, c’mon, now. ‘S gon’ be a good time.” Micah raised his eyebrows at him appraisingly. “Lu’ceel Shay’s gon’ be there, friendly as ever. An’ we all know she’s got her eyes set on ya.”

“A fine offer, cuz,” Hasil said. “But ta tell ya the truth, I’s feelin’ a tad indisposed t’night, so I think I may be forced ta decline.”

“Ya sure?” Micah asked.

“Yeah,” Hasil replied. “But y’all enjoy ya’selves…”

Back inside his cabin it was still and quiet – which was good, as he wasn’t sure his cousins were quite out of hearing distance yet – but then he looked at her, her face cool and impassive, and it became clear that she wasn’t meeting his gaze, her eyes deliberately fixed on a spot along the floorboards. He wasn’t sure what he might have done to upset her, but he knew he needed to fix it, and quickly.

“Sally-Ann…” he said softly, finding a seat across from her on the mattress.

“Lu’ceel Shay, huh?” she asked, still not looking at him. “‘Got her eyes set on you’?”

A wave of fear washed over him as he realized that she might have gotten the wrong idea after overhearing his conversation with Micah. 

“Look, don’t ya worry ‘bout that none, don’t ya worry ‘bout Lu’ceel Shay,” he said imploringly. “‘Cause ya know I only got eyes for one girl.” 

“Another girl on the mountain?” She didn’t look up, but he could see the corners of her mouth turning in barely-contained amusement, and then he breathed a little easier, knowing that her displeasure was all for show, that she was just playing with him a little.

“Nah, not on the mountain,” he replied.

“Down in town, then?” she said, her wide brown gaze flashing up to meet his. “Maybe I met her? Maybe Rhonda from Tony’s? She bartends on Friday nights…”

“Nah, not her. Ta be honest, I don’t know when ya woulda met her. She’s real busy, works two jobs.” He edged closer to her, just barely pressing his body against hers. 

“That right?” she said, her voice warm and breathless. 

“But ya migh’a seen her ‘round. She’s jus’ a l’il thing, ‘bout this high.” He raised the flat of his hand right in front of his nose. “Always squirmin’ when I touch her…” he added, grinning. 

“Hasil!” she cried, her cheeks rounding with amused embarrassment. 

And then he did touch her, grasping her in his arms, his lips finding hers over and over again in the soft glow of the lantern’s light. She tasted sweet and bright, the scent of orange lingering as she breathed against him. He was falling, drowning, but he had no fear. All he wanted to do was surrender to it. 

But even in the chaos of his thoughts, he realized that before they went any further, he had to tell her something, he had to make it completely clear to her. 

“Sally-Ann,” he said, pulling his face from hers a little. “There ain’t no one else, there ain’t never gon’ be…”

“Hasil?” she murmured. 

“Hmmm?”

“Stop talkin’.” 

GIANT ART MATERIALS GIVE AWAY!!!!! 

Being the lucky loveable art student that i am, i have been gifted a few duplicate art materials for my birthday this year but GOOD NEWS i am giving them away to one lucky person!

 You will receive:

 - One set (48) of PANDA oil pastels

 - One 45 pan set of Winsor Newton watercolours

 - One packet of Daler Rowney paint brushes (gold taklon synthetic) - 10 brushes

 - Five rolls of Faber Castell poly chromos (you get the roll bags too)

 - Two tins of Faber Castell poly chromos

 Rules:

 - must be following me and her

 - no giveaway blogs please

 - you can like but only reblogs count for entry

 - reblog as much as you like

 - give away ends 17th June 2015