In the beginning....
She'd chosen her name well, Thorn. Sharp and painful if approached wrong, protecting and gentle if it was done right. But that had been secondary.
Gramma had often told her stories of a Cherokee woman that had been named Thorn, and the adventures the woman had had.
The Thorn of story had been restless even as a child, latching onto something whole heartedly for a time, then drifting off to do something else. She'd not been able to settle for long. Though she was beautiful, and her status had been high, making her an obvious choice for a first wife, it was her quicksilver mood swings that kept her from being married.
In despair, Thorn had gone seeking a dream. Taking neither food nor water the woman had sat beneath a tree growing on the bank of a creek, and waited to dream.
After a time, she had indeed received a vision. It was confusing as such things often were, but the thread that the woman got was that she'd never know the happiness she so desperately sought if she stayed where she was. Elated by what she felt was the end to her dilemma, the woman ran from the forest to her father's home and explained to her stunned parents what her dream had revealed to her.
Now, both her mother and father wanted to urge caution, but this was a Vision, and at the time, no one questioned Visions. The woman gathered her meager belongings that night and left the village where she had been born and raised. None of the woman's family or friends heard from her again.
After a time, her family mourned her passing from their lives as though she had died. When asked what had happened to the woman, they simply answered, "She chased a dream."
When our Thorn left her kith and kin that's what she was doing, chasing a dream.
The bitterness of it woke her from time to time. A burning sting and an ache in her eyes, the taste of black bile in her throat.With the stinging would come fear, a razor blade's kiss to take it away again.
The hero in Grandmother's story hadn't had the blocks that the real Thorn had in catching the dreams she went chasing. Periods of time that were lost completely, false memories overlaid to hid some bitter truth. Voices heard ranting or praising. A beaten in terror of what may come.
No the woman that a blond haired child had envied so simply had to choose.
The woman that the blond haired child became could make all the decisions she wanted, but it wouldn't change a thing.
The woman who had given up her home, her family, even her name would be forever chasing a dream.
Craving affection, starving for comfort, Thorn, as she is now, is completely incapable of forming bonds deeper than friendship. Unable to do more than vaguely understand monogamy. While not exactly whorish, she was a bit free with her charms.
She was conscious of the fact that she would never experience the flash fire heat of passion, nor the warm glow of satiation, but she still chased it down.
Knowing that she'd never know what it felt like to truly love a man, she still wished for it. Willing to be used as either an object in bed, or something as innocent as a lap warmer, a hand filler.
Along the way she came into her own.
She'd chosen her name well, Thorn. Sharp and painful if approached wrong, protecting and gentle if it was done right. But that had been secondary.
Gramma had often told her stories of a Cherokee woman that had been named Thorn, and the adventures the woman had had.
The Thorn of story had been restless even as a child, latching onto something whole heartedly for a time, then drifting off to do something else. She'd not been able to settle for long. Though she was beautiful, and her status had been high, making her an obvious choice for a first wife, it was her quicksilver mood swings that kept her from being married.
In despair, Thorn had gone seeking a dream. Taking neither food nor water the woman had sat beneath a tree growing on the bank of a creek, and waited to dream.
After a time, she had indeed received a vision. It was confusing as such things often were, but the thread that the woman got was that she'd never know the happiness she so desperately sought if she stayed where she was. Elated by what she felt was the end to her dilemma, the woman ran from the forest to her father's home and explained to her stunned parents what her dream had revealed to her.
Now, both her mother and father wanted to urge caution, but this was a Vision, and at the time, no one questioned Visions. The woman gathered her meager belongings that night and left the village where she had been born and raised. None of the woman's family or friends heard from her again.
After a time, her family mourned her passing from their lives as though she had died. When asked what had happened to the woman, they simply answered, "She chased a dream."
When our Thorn left her kith and kin that's what she was doing, chasing a dream.
The bitterness of it woke her from time to time. A burning sting and an ache in her eyes, the taste of black bile in her throat.With the stinging would come fear, a razor blade's kiss to take it away again.
The hero in Grandmother's story hadn't had the blocks that the real Thorn had in catching the dreams she went chasing. Periods of time that were lost completely, false memories overlaid to hid some bitter truth. Voices heard ranting or praising. A beaten in terror of what may come.
No the woman that a blond haired child had envied so simply had to choose.
The woman that the blond haired child became could make all the decisions she wanted, but it wouldn't change a thing.
The woman who had given up her home, her family, even her name would be forever chasing a dream.
Craving affection, starving for comfort, Thorn, as she is now, is completely incapable of forming bonds deeper than friendship. Unable to do more than vaguely understand monogamy. While not exactly whorish, she was a bit free with her charms.
She was conscious of the fact that she would never experience the flash fire heat of passion, nor the warm glow of satiation, but she still chased it down.
Knowing that she'd never know what it felt like to truly love a man, she still wished for it. Willing to be used as either an object in bed, or something as innocent as a lap warmer, a hand filler.
Along the way she came into her own.