Clandestine Ink

Inktober 2016 Day, The Thirty-First: O, Sweet Karina the Kept. With each sentence her heart leapt. And the more she read, the more she Wept. By the last page of the letter, the tears were making lovers leaps off her face and onto the inky landscapes to find her beloved Francois Blah-Blah's sweeping LongHand. They made a forbidden union between clandestine ink and secret tears. She now came to the last page and saw why- this time- he had forsaken a traditional signature. For there in the dead center of the parchment was a single print of her beloved Francois Blah-Blah's hand made in that India Ink. This most delightful darkness appeared as black as she once thought her heart had become. So heavily was this sensuous mess applied that it had warped the paper which crinkled to the touch so loudly there in the quiet candle light, it made our tactile reader gasp with a jump! Upon removing her ring she had another go at it. "O, my Dear Francois Blah-Blah", she murmured with a grateful caress. It occurred to her that this letter seemed almost...haunted, alive, perhaps with the power to possess her in some way but she couldn't help but lose herself in the healing power of the Ink...