Hi
You're wondering how my lawn is doing, aren't you? That all-revealing patch of green that lies before my modest little house and shouts to the world about my lethargy, my procrastinacity, and all my ignorant pink fingers and uninitiated thumbs. Well, it's doing very well, thank you very much, with not a little help from the great English weather. Sun, rain, sun, rain, night. Sun, rain, sun, rain, night. I love it. Sun follows rain follows sun as surely as night follows day. And thus the shoots stretch skywards and photosynthesise, sucking up the chemical feed I assiduously spread for them. It's growing. And looking blooming lovely.
I'm including an entire short story today and, at 834 words, it is truly short. 'What is a short story?' I heard someone recently ask. After much thought, I think it is this. I think: a short story is a concise piece of writing involving one or more characters in which something happens that causes an intentional emotional response in the reader. With that in mind - for I always have something in mind - I scribbled down the following. It's now entombed in a very secret and obscure place - one of my books on Amazon: 'A lifetime in thirty minutes'. If you'd like to set it free, it is here:
By all means let me know if, for you, this short story fits my criteria.
Moths to a flame
I flit from mate to mate, blindly seeking
Pleasure in the darkness till the moon -
A bloodied golden shard - cuts through the
Curtain, orchestrates and takes us upward,
Beating time, she drives us onward, forward,
Till we join and die, join and die.
I bob to the surface of the wettest dream. The ephemera dissolve, peripherals sink into the dark depths, but the truth at the centre still floats before me. Rhythmic beats stir the air, wafting cool waves onto my shuttered eyes.
'What are you?'
I sense her there, know the impossible truth before I even dare to look. Warm breath, sweet as nectar, washes over me.
'I am... your mate. Your lover.'
She glows. I breathe in, in, in. Dizziness rocks me and I exhale noisily. Inconceivable naked beauty fills my vision.
'Are you an angel?'
With sensuous fingertips she explores her body as though for the first time. A glassy splinter of laughter bursts the bubble of wonder that floats between us.
'Hah! Angels don't have these... or...' Her lovely face turns to the heavens as fingers probe a glistening cleft in her pristine skin. 'Angels are sexless. Pure.' Long, black nails comb through her short blonde hair as again her head falls back. A throaty sigh abrades the still night air. 'Do I look sexless? Do I look pure?'
Her pale blue eyes are full of mischief. And something darker. Much darker. Feathers rustle as wings gently flutter and then press together like hands in prayer. She is perfection. Despite her protestations, I know what she is.
A wet tongue flicks across her full expressive lips. Amusement flits across her pale seraphic features.
'Was I too early? Or too late?'
I am suddenly, uncomfortably aware of my clammy naked torso, a wet dream turned to cold liquid reality.
'Oh, God, I'm so sorry...'
My shame boils the air, burns my cheeks, but she waves it away. Incredibly, she falls to her knees and licks the shame from me. I stroke her neck and shoulders, wide-eyed with dumbstruck wonder. Supernatural limbs emanate from her lithe back. I trace the transformation from flesh to feathers, from feathers to flesh, while luxuriating in the heavenly lips that cleanse me. She teases me, tickles me, till all memory of my climactic submersion is expunged from my body and mind.
Finally, her mouth gathers up the shrunken fleshy coil and begins to suck. It quickly rises, engorges and swells to full length; aching, it momentarily falters then recovers and stands proud. She pulls away; smiles approvingly then her perfect face suddenly clouds and grows serious.
'This moment...' She pauses to gather her thoughts; lips quiver and eyes moisten. 'This moment is what we were created for. Our pasts, our futures, are nothing without this simple singular act. Do you understand?' I nod, though her words mean nothing. 'Good. Then fuck me.'
She lies down beside me. I mount her. There is no ceremony, no foreplay. She is ready, fully primed. Though she is tight, my hardness slips easily into her. I withdraw; her eyes are full of rapture as again I slide inside her. In and out. Over and over. She surrounds me; overwhelms me. I meet her gaze and she smiles while nodding reassuringly. We are mixing our blood, our flesh. We are Gods, creating in our own image. We come together and separate. She grabs my hair and assails my ears with unholy oaths. She is sweetness and purity, depravity and filth. All at the same time. All in the same place.
I close my eyes and we are weightless. Falling. Tumbling. Floating. Flying. Air rushes by. Wings beat. I am lifted up and we climb together; loins lock together once more. I cling to her. Again we tumble then rise again. My shoulder blades ache and I wince with the pain. She cries above the throbbing whistling wind.
'You haven't used them before, my love. The pain will fade... fade.' Astonished, I look over my shoulder. I am like her. I am one with her. 'There... there. Climb with me. Cum with me.'
My wings beat. Grow stronger. We are angels. We are flying. We are fucking. I bellow over the swirling, roaring night sky.
'Do we live forever?'
Again the brittle laugh.
'Hah! If forever is a moment, yes. As long as there are angels, this moment will last forever.'
'I love you.'
'This isn't love. There isn't time for love. But how could you know? How could you?'
'It feels like love.'
A ghostly azure moon sails across the velvet blackness. As we soar towards it, she grabs my hair again, shakes me and laughs into my ear.
'Then it is love. Cum inside me. Love me!'
Two pairs of wings whirr and dance towards the blue electric glow. The creatures briefly come together again then separate; the smaller flits across a rising sliver of moon; the larger flies towards the blue light and, with a flash of acrid lightning, vapourises into a feather of smoke.
*****
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