Violet and Apricot

A few pages from Violet and Apricot

A voice within him demanded that he watch her. He slipped onto a wooden bench and eyed her from across the playground.

She was black like cheap coffee beans. She wore cut up blue tights, and a dingy, red sweater hung over her. Her eyes were faded; ghost marks on an old white board. Moans echoed from within the slide she lied in and up into the magnolia trees.

She was fondling her breasts. Her fingers pinched at them, sending out vibrations down her spine. Wilson watched attentively. Her legs rose up, but her toes dropped inward. She was falling, free falling into herself.

The park was drenched in ugly moonlight. Shadow figures ceased to be shadows beneath the moon’s prying eye. The girl’s fingers wandered down into her waist. She explored herself tentatively, as if for the first time. She felt something moist and bit her lips.

Wilson reached for the cigarette in his coat pocket. He lite it up, and let the smoke hide his face.

Dirty men rolled out of their sleeping bags beneath the park’s bridges. They looked at one another wide-eyed and stupid. “Is she?” one managed to say, before the others broke into laughter. They rose like fresh faced British explorers, confident in themselves and ignorant of everything. They saw Wilson and gathered around him.

“Can you believe what she’s doing?” one of them smirked to Wilson.

Wilson nodded.

Unsatisfied with his response, the vagabond continued, “She’s f*****g herself. Can you believe it? “The dirty men snickered.

“I believe,” Wilson went on, slowly, “She is in the midst of her catharsis.” He waved away the smoke webs that fell from his lips. “Tell me the time.”

  “It’s ten to midnight, I believe,” the man said, then added, “hey, who are you anyhow? I’ve never seen you around.”

 A Cheshire cat grin cut into his thin face. “Wilson Apricot.” He said it sexy; mouthing it with soft, pink lips. “My name is Wilson Evelyn Apricot, and tonight I shall be my true self for the very first time”. Then he got up and ran. Leaving the black girl to f**k herself, and the dirty men to watch her.

Wilson’s owl eyes sucked in the cool air. He felt savage. The night poured into him, splintering out his personality into the cosmos so that all he was was wild.

The park led into a cul-de-sac. Orange trees and reckless ivy stretched out from house gates like bony fingers. Cats dangled from atop the gates, hissing and purring as Wilson passed them. “My God, “he cried out. “I am alive. I am alive to-night”.

  A pocket of shadow broke out amidst the gates of houses. Insides burning, he fell into it. The darkness harbored abandoned railroad tracks. He knelt beside the wild weeds, and held his breath for the ghost that haunted him.

“You are late” a voice called from behind him. “You’ve left me alone for too long. I’ve fucked the world with my heart, and now I’m stuck with all this sickness peeling at my skin.”

Author's Note

Please review honestly. Take the time to take it in, and then let me know what you think.