I’d never before been inside a church.
Perhaps the answers I seek lay within this ancient cathedral’s walls. My chest tightens as I approach, the gothic doors open, inviting me in, but I cannot. The threshold becomes like a birling log. I step forward but do not move. The carvings on the walls melt; the light shining through the stained glass change from brilliant hues of oranges and yellows to blood red, pooling across the floor. Suddenly a man appears across the narthex. “You are not welcome here.” His voice, strained, barely reaches me. “Go, he will find you here.”
Love and Blood
She entered my bed, naked, cold; her touches brought a wave of goose-pimples across my body. My heat made her feel alive, she said. Her preternatural touch reminded me that I was.
Her lips were one of the few places which held heat. They met with mine, gently at first, then forcefully as I explored her other warm places. Our bodies melded, writhing. Gently, she bit me, seeking nourishment from my climaxing soul, I could no longer hold back.
We melted apart under the covers, satisfied from receiving what we so desperately needed; love… and blood.
The Ceremony
I saw my fiancé amongst the dancers, twirling fire and chanting. Jared and I were Pagans, not the sacrifice a … oh wait… I, am not the sacrifice a virgin to the Sun God type, just following an alternative and natural belief system.
“It is time!” A voice echoed. Flabbergasted I strained at the vines holding my naked body.
“Today great gods, we shall sacrifice virginity in your honour!”
Jared emerged, his chest glistening with sweat. My loins comprehended the situation before my mind, and fluttered in anticipation. I was not the sacrifice, my innocence was.
Soon, we were wed.
Honourable Mention – Best use of word “Flabbergasted”
Naked Innocence
She emerged from depths and splashed through the shoal, dripping, naked, wanting. He couldn’t help but stare at her pale beauty and the way the sunlight illuminated the droplets of water caressing her body. To say he was enraptured was an understatement.
Every week she came here to bath and he watched, not out of voyeuristic lust but to protect her, although it grew increasingly hard not to succumb to his lustful desires. Her youthful innocence begged to be taken, that was why he was here, to ensure that it was not but who could protect her from him?
Lost Rails
Our journey began with a handcar, a sense of adventure and a ton of determination.
Brenda stepped off the jigger and switched the rail. I heaved the pump alone and got it moving onto the overgrown track. She switched the rails back and returned to the platform opposite me.
“I don’t think there’s been a train on here for years.” I said.
The rail line cut into a thick deciduous forest which had been sheered and sculptured to create a living tunnel. Tired arms and aching legs were forgotten as we were lost in the wonderment of this forgotten world.
The Devil You Know
“Trepidation is not prognostication Jack.” Lou flopped down heavily on the torn loveseat. “You’ve done it before, you’ll do it again.”
“Not this time old friend, too many close calls.” He swirled non-existent ice cubes around his whiskey then tossed it back. “It’s like falling without a parachute.”
“You need it friend.” Lou waved around a bag of powder. “One last time? For old time’s sake.”
He poured another whiskey then snatched the bag. “For old time’s sake.”
Lou smiled knowingly.
Cloudily, Jack realized his friend had lied, trepidation was indeed prognostication, but then again, who can believe the devil?
Most Average
Is it good to be the bellwether? Why do they think I’m the voice of the people? I’m just a thirty-something professional living in a second-story apartment in a middle-class community in a moderate-sized city. I’m nothing special. The most exciting thing that’s happened to me lately was when I blew-up my barbecue trying to make chicken, now “They” want my advice? Do “They” think I am capable of telling them the future? I’m no prognosticator, I’m just a middle manager, a middle manager having coffee with the most powerful men in the world. I guess average can be good.
Alphabet Wine 