Rewrite, Part 1

Where else to post something like a rewrite, than this old dead blog? So here's part 1 of my rewrite. :)

Ailith awoke to the sound of a loud thud. It was a shock, her senses unusually alert after that. The memories of that flooded into her mind at the thought, and she turned her head, expecting to see Kyle on the other side of the straw mattress.
Nothing but lumps greeted her.
The morning was blue, she could tell by the way the light entered the room, and she sat up, gazing out the single window of the room. It was so bare, so simple, and so rustic compared to the place she’d slept in just a few nights prior. But the sky, brilliant with the light of the morning, was all the same.
Suddenly, there was shouting. “No what?!”
A muttered response, the deep voice of the innkeeper. “No horses!? What’s happened to them? Tell me, you stupid bastard!”
The screaming voice was, undoubtedly, Kyle. Ailith would usually spring out of bed and race to wherever her brother was, interrupting his argument. Kyle did not usually shout.
But because of that...she sat still in her bed for a moment, listening. The horses are gone. She thought distantly. “Tell me!!! Stop blubbering!!”
She stood up and got her dress from where it lay draped over the only other furniture in the room; a tiny wooden chair. She pulled the deep blue garment on over her chemise, shivering in the cold February air. Her heart pounded in her ears as she pulled up her stockings and tied them, then put on her shoes.
Opening the door, she was greeted with the sight of her brother, towering over the little innkeeper, who was babbling on about how they’d lost their horses. He looked angry, threatening, but she knew he wouldn’t actually hurt the man. His bark was worse than his bite. Kyle was tall now, probably reaching five-foot-nine, which was big for an Englishman. He had eaten well as a child. His hair, such a dark brown that it looked black, hung loosely around his tan face, cropped across the forehead so his bangs didn’t get in his eyes. He turned to her when he sensed her presence.
“Our horses are gone,” he rasped, “and this brainless peasant won’t breathe a word of what happened.”
“I said, they was taken by a man,” the innkeeper, a skinny farmer in his early thirties, had wild eyes filled with fear.
“How could you just let someone take a customer’s horses?” “He treatened me an’ me wife! He had sev’ral men withhem. Said he’d let’em all have a go!”
Ailith’s face flushed with the vulgarity of it. She looked away.
“You’d letem have a go at your sister? I bet you wouldn’t!” Ailith turned back towards the man, her eyes widening. She couldn’t believe what was coming out of his mouth. But Kyle seemed unaffected. He smiled bitterly, leaning down to roughly grab the man by the collar.
“A real man-” he paused, taking in a deep breath, obviously trying to calm his fury, “would take his sword and skewer a bandit through the pelvis the very moment they tried to touch his woman. You worthless coward.”
“Kyle-” Ailith hated seeing him like this; anger was one thing, but this kind of denigration coming from his mouth made her stomach twist up. “What?” he spat.
“Let the man go. It won’t change anything. Let’s just get breakfast and go.”
His brown eyes, dark and glimmering with an emotion she’d never seen before, met her gaze. He let the man go; the innkeeper scrambled away, muttering about how he’d bring breakfast fast. Ailith held Kyle’s gaze.
“You can’t take some men’s talk?” Kyle’s voice was firm and his face red.
“That’s not it-”
“Well, get used to it, lass. We aren’t in our parent’s arms anymore. We’re as good as filth like him.” His face had lost the proud look which she’d grown accustomed to. She narrowed her eyes at him.
“The man isn’t filth. I’m just as upset about the horses as you are-”
“We have to walk half-way to London. You, in your skirts, tromping along the roads?”
Ailith felt anger rising up then.
“I’ll be fine. You always underestimate me.”
Breakfast was set down at the large table, but the innkeeper wandered off to ‘check on something’, clearly terrified of Kyle now.
“I’m not underestimating you,” Kyle protested as they began eating. Gruel, as usual.
“I can do it.”
“This isn’t some forest romp with Rurik, Ailith. This isn’t a game.” The gruel caught in her throat and her spoon plopped back into the bowl. That sprung to mind more clearly than ever. She forced herself to swallow while her stomach churned. Kyle looked at her. His eyes turned softer. “Sorry...I didn’t mean to-”
Ailith sat frozen.
“I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth.
Kyle continued shovelling food in his mouth.
“Eat,” he grumbled.
“I’m-”
“Just eat.”
She picked her spoon up and forced the food down her throat.
Things were bad for him, sure. But as far as she was concerned, her life was already over.

Shoe

curling my bangs
was like keeping you around,
every morning i woke up and
plugged in the iron,
heated the coils and burned my
fingertips into the screen
of my phone,
now they're wild and crazy
like my mind
looping it all as if
recovering the document
will bring back the muse,
unfortunately
chasing our love and beating
a spider against the wall
have the same ending,
it's already dead
so why are we still standing
with the shoe
poised above our heads?

비트윈 (between)

"your memories will be deleted
in a few days time,
act now before it's too late."
and I hesitate,
the remnants of my cellphone
app relationship,
all those sweet messages I
never received,
they call out to me
before
I delete
the thoughts, what am
I thinking, that the dream could be
mine?
even now I stand back,
and stare at the ceiling,
filled up with self-doubt
"Re: Between,
Will anyone ever
stop caring what other's think,
stop saying 'you're pretty good
at chopsticks for a white girl',
and stop feeling ashamed
of loving me?"

My Translucency

rejecting others is
gouging your own eye
for you reject yourself
the smallest fleck
of your being, your soul
knows damage inflicted,
"I am cleansing"
but you are killing,
driving
like a cold, freezing rain
the darkest winter night
of my life,
you break away
separate, like two microbes
growing into new demons,
from those who loved
and made you a new home,
imperfect and flawed
their pale skin and
ruddy palms, their blue veins
-all mine-
were there for you,
"money is the root of all evil,"
and materialism
is the god of
hatred,
a man said we should love
but he was never
spoken of,
growing away is not a good thing
but I pray to leave your midst,
though my hand rested
against your chest and
I heard your heartbeat,
you
are the hypocrite to my honesty,
though I loved you
you saw nothing in me
but my reflection,
though warmth filled my body
when you embraced me,
you saw my
Carolina-blue blood
seeping through
my translucency,
and halted.