Chapter
Six
I’ll
be your lover tonight
I felt as though I had only blinked away
what must have been a good few hours when I had awoken to the beautiful sounds
of a fire crackling. My accomplice obviously did not regard me as a traitor or
a madman as he passed a bowl of soup for breakfast. I was ashamed of last
night’s mishap but we did not utter a single word of the events that had
transpired. This left me in a state of deep thought as to if it had even
happened at all.
The talented man beside me must have read
my face like a book and silently gestured with a slight tilt of his eyebrows,
signalling that I did, in fact, attempt to take his life. He seemed unusually
calm upon this as if he was able to react to my suddenly desperate pleas for
redemption while maintaining thought on other matters. However bad the crimes,
they were not to be in that small camp-site, we had to leave them behind. Squabbles
were clearly not on the Journeyman’s agenda, he had more pressing matters to
attend to, as did I.
On the horizon the small town that had so
casually and ignorantly lit the madness that had leaked from me the night
before, was now becoming more detailed. Our slow march had taken us upon the
cusp of this empty town. I wasn’t sure if I could bring myself to enter on such
a placid light of the encroaching day. It would seem almost contradictory in my
eyes. However, goodbyes were at hand and my selfish thoughts would have to
wait.
We held each other for some time, with an
un-spoken knowledge that this would be the last of the warmth and compassion we
would receive from here on. We part arms and part ways. I peeked over my
shoulder to see if he was still in view, however with the same mysteriousness
that had led me to his meeting, he was gone.
Later
that day I meandered to the local tavern seeking direction through the quaintly
poor town within which I found myself after some hours on a contemplative trek.
I entered the cosily cramped yet almost bodiless s**t hole. A young musician
sat in the corner with a façade of class flowing from his violin and engulfing
the drab interior. He played a sonata distinctively familiar to me. Perchance
was it “The Devils Trill” which inspired me to partake in the consumption of
devils nectar, forgetting my motives for entry or just plain madness.
Either way I casually sipped the whisky I
ordered like the drunk I imagined it would make of me. This would follow my
recent trend of “firsts”, along with the forthcoming temptations of a sweetly
charming seductresses in the form of a young bar maid. We exchanged flirtatious
pleasantries. Her long white blonde hair hung just past her breast framing an
indescribably exquisite face, decorated with ruby cheeks and sapphire eyes that
beckoned a call to the darker parts of one’s mind as her delicate ghostly white
skin glowed profoundly in the dim candle light.
If only I possessed the artistic talents of
Leonardo or the linguistic mastery of Poe would I stand a chance of capturing
such beauty and immortalising it through the stroke of brush or quill. To my
misfortune I could not. And so I began to savour every drop of light I could
soak into the depths of my eyes, splashing from this vision of loveliness. Her
soft, subtly rouge, lips shaped ever so mundane words into something lustful
and tantalising, forcing shivers of excitement over my body.
However, I halted my interest for a moment
to analyse the situation. How could such beauty, the first capable of making me
succumb to the hands of lust, bare any attraction to myself? For, despite her
apparent intentions with me, she did not give the impression of one with a
promiscuous nature. But if not a w***e seeking to lighten my purse then what
could be the cause of this?
Is it truly possible that this wretch which
sat before her could have festered her fancy? The only other seemingly
plausible explanation was the she was a dead end in my path that the divine
sought to end me for my crimes and she was their assassin. Reckoning internal
paranoia I returned to conversing with the temporary focus of my love, my
inhibitions doused in her aura of sanctity.
The bar gradually emptied like glass after
glass which sat before myself. Until all that remained were two souls and one
whisky diluted with the melted rocks that before floated gracefully past one
another, dancing and twirling like the beauty who now danced her way back from
the locked door across the ceiling of this twirling tavern. Her long fingers
tickled my palm as she gently lured me closer with her touch, bringing my hand
to her cheek. Our clothes seemed to fall away with the world around us as the
taste of her tongue found its place on my lips.
My thoughts became a chaos of bliss. Our
bodies interlocked in passion insuring a flurry of thrusting and groping.
Dancing to a symphony of moans and heavy breathing, our muscles strained and
our skin bruised as our bodies contorted in a wonder of positions which only
enhanced the ecstasy of every moment.
I stared deep into her soul through the
oceanic jewels which gave her sight as she lay beneath me, ever so
contently. During introspective discourse of my feelings for this
angel my mind floated into sobriety allowing a strange sense of
guilt to wash over me followed by waves of memories which seemed to
flood the room drowning me in images from my past.
The Journeyman sat
sipping soup at a nearby table as the ceiling reached for the floor,
halted by the lavishly carved stone pillar which grew up from beneath
it. The Alchemist sat, across from the Journeyman, scribing thoughts into a
codex as grass grew up through the floor boards, slipping between my
fingers. A fox lay sleeping in a bed of flowers which occupied the
formally empty space in the center of the room.
My feeling of guilt
almost faded in the shadow of this picturesque scene when suddenly
the carpet of grass became hard and cold. A sickening scent filled my
lungs as I looked down seeing what was no longer my angel but instead
the desecrated remains of a vile w***e. Before I could gasp with
shock I was on my feet, staring at the mess of a corpse, belonging to
the victim of my greatest crime, which lay next to her. I wanted to
run but the walls were closing in on me like the panic of the
situation. The walls pinned my arms to my side. And began slowly crushing
me. I closed my eyes. I held my last breath, but the walls stopped
pressing towards me. They instead began jostling me from side to
side.
I opened my eyes, finding myself outside, amidst a busy crowd.
The relief of being free from the stone coffin which encased me was
brief. Upon noticing the mass interest of the crowd, in what they
surrounded, my curiosity was sparked and the preceding horror fled my
mind like a mare in the night seeking another host. I barged my way to the point of intrigue through a crowd so captivated that they seemed
not to notice me pushing past.
It would seem that mare which troubled
me could find no other host. Or perhaps another had found it's place
upon my chest granting me a sight which forced the feeling of a
dagger twisting in my gut. I looked down. It lay there before me on the ground. My own body.
prev chapter
![[send message]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/mail.png){kind=small}
![[befriend]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/friend.png){kind=small}
first
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Flag Writing
