Sunday Night
Each part had been carefully tucked away, his eyes were soaking in the cleaning bath. She turned, and watched his still form breath for a long moment. She tried to match her breathing to his, failed. She turned and went to the box she had stowed in the closet. She ignored the items on the top, moving the accouterments of pleasure out of her way and drawing out a smaller box hidden within. She tucked it under her arm and walked across the loft, ready to open the portal with its word and perform her rite in brutal sun of a far-away garden, but something made her stop.
This could wait.
She went back to the bedroom and put the box away, and sat on the bed, holding the pillow to her chest. She propped herself up neatly, and slowed her breathing. She stared at a mark on the wall, focusing all her will on the wall. She narrowed her field of vision on the spot.
Around her, the spot slowly expanded, and settled, the long road, the short road. In her mind, everything was the same distance, and with that secret word, she called for her shadow.
Why? She asked the other. Why am I not what he wants? She danced with her shadow until there was no difference between them. They remembered the long-forgotten sounds of her father's tears, in the still hours before the dawn. They knew, as a child, that this is the worst agony they can imagine, that it must be avoided at all costs.
It cannot be avoided, one whispers to the other, lips pressed tenderly to ear, we are human.
They were in a library, the steps of the dance fell away, and they lay on the soft carpet together, pressed breast to breast, mouth to mouth, sex to sex. In the moment of fulfilment, Calliel pulled away, to lift up a book.
"For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning."
She clasped the words themselves tightly to her chest, where they twined around her silky flesh like brambles.
This could wait.
She went back to the bedroom and put the box away, and sat on the bed, holding the pillow to her chest. She propped herself up neatly, and slowed her breathing. She stared at a mark on the wall, focusing all her will on the wall. She narrowed her field of vision on the spot.
Around her, the spot slowly expanded, and settled, the long road, the short road. In her mind, everything was the same distance, and with that secret word, she called for her shadow.
Why? She asked the other. Why am I not what he wants? She danced with her shadow until there was no difference between them. They remembered the long-forgotten sounds of her father's tears, in the still hours before the dawn. They knew, as a child, that this is the worst agony they can imagine, that it must be avoided at all costs.
It cannot be avoided, one whispers to the other, lips pressed tenderly to ear, we are human.
They were in a library, the steps of the dance fell away, and they lay on the soft carpet together, pressed breast to breast, mouth to mouth, sex to sex. In the moment of fulfilment, Calliel pulled away, to lift up a book.
"For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning."
She clasped the words themselves tightly to her chest, where they twined around her silky flesh like brambles.