only love

“Come to me…” She heard the whispered words again and again. She saw the hand reach out for her, and she tried to grab it. But it was in vain. Her fingers never touched the ones that were outreached to her. She saw the despair in his face and tried harder to get to him, but the last inch to be there, grab him and cling to him was always missing.

Startled, she woke up. Drenched in sweat and tears. She had had this dream so many times before, and each time it became more real and more intense. She wanted to be with him, that was all she knew and cared about. The yellow streetlights illuminated her dark room, casting gloomy shadows on the ceilings. It didn’t appease her. A storm was raging outside, and branches of the large tree in front of her window whipped against the glass. It made for a frightening soundtrack of the night. She laid down again and punched her pillow a couple of times until it had the desired shape and turned to the side. She never closed her eyes. They stayed glued to the window. She was waiting for him. She waited for the familiar shadow to appear.

~~°~~

“Come to me…” He whispered the words in her ear, trying to soak in her familiar scent. She was asleep and didn’t hear him. He reached his hand out to touch her, and she tried to touch him too, but it was to no avail. As much as he wanted to feel her skin against his own for one last time, it was impossible. He couldn’t hide the pain he felt, and he knew that she saw it. He tried harder to reach her, but the last inch to grab her and take her with him was always missing.

Her time hadn’t come yet. And until then, he had to wait and be patient. He visited her every night, but on one particular night every year, she could see him. He sat on the windowsill and listened to the storm while he watched her sleep with her eyes wide open.

~~°~~

She saw him. He sat on the windowsill with a smile on his face. Occasionally, he looked outside as if in deep thought and when his head turned back to face her, she thought she had seen a frown. This night, this particular night was always the same for her, and she loved and dreaded it alike. It was the night he was back, and her dreams seemed so much more real than every other day. Days prior to this particular date, she didn’t sleep, because she waited for him to appear. She wished he would stay longer than only that night, and she wished he would talk to her. Instead, he sat there and watched her. It was all a dream. A hallucination. That’s what they said. But she knew better. She knew better because she didn’t only see him; she felt his presence.

~~°~~

He smiled at her and watched over her. Occasionally, he looked outside, and it reminded him of that fateful day years ago.

He had been drunk after the party. He shouldn’t have walked home in his state, but he had also known that he was in no shape to drive. She had called him on his phone, and he had slurred that he loved her. He had wanted to see her and took a shortcut through the woods. It had been raining that night and dark. Really dark. He had started to run with an unknown urge to be with her and then, it had happened. He had fallen down a slope, and he had hit his head on a rock. When he had woken up, he had laughed because he had known that the fall could have killed him.

And it had killed him. I took him a while to realise that the lifeless body he had been looking at was his own. It had happened so fast. A bright spark had appeared, and light-tunnel had captured him. He had fought to stay and go see her one last time, but the force that had taken him from this earth was stronger than anything else he had ever experienced. He had made a deal with the invisible force then and there. He had stopped struggling and floated willingly up into his afterlife after negotiating one last wish; he demanded to be able to see and watch over her. And he did. He came back. Every year. Until the time had come to finally take her hand and take her with him.

~~°~~

The night was fading, and the storm was calming down. The shadows on her ceiling slowly vanished, but he was still there staring at her, and she kept watching him intently, trying to remember as much of him as possible. In her mind, she told him that she loved him and that she missed him. In her mind, she told him everything she couldn’t say out loud anymore. She didn’t react when there was a knock on the door. She knew what would be happening next. A chubby woman in a lab coat bent over her and pushed her hair out of her face. He smiled at her and waved, then he blew her a kiss, and she saw him say “I love you”, but she didn’t hear the words. She fought to push the nurse away, but she obstructed her view. When she finally moved, he was gone. The woman who had entered obscured the view to the window again and helped her sit up. She stopped struggling and fighting. It was all in vain anyway. They didn’t understand. They didn’t see what she saw.

“It’s time for your pills honey.” Two cups were put in front of her, and she obediently emptied them both before she opened her mouth to show that she had swallowed everything, just like she was supposed to do.

~~°~~

The nurse patted the patient’s shoulder and retreated. She key locked the door again once she was outside and sighed. Halloween was always the worst day for this patient. It had been five years now since she was with them and although she was better on most days, on October 31st, she was suicidal and had to stay in lockup for her own safety. She had never talked, but everyone knew about the events that had ended her in the mental institution. The nurse didn’t need to hear the details of the tragedy; she knew that only love could make someone lose their mind the way this woman had.

(written in October 2014. I would change many things about this story – more details, and the writing style is weird too, but there is potential in this couple of paragraphs)

Letter to a stranger – happy new year

Dear stranger,

First of all, happy new year. I didn’t send an email or message for Christmas this year. I preferred not to get in touch. We both know how bad it is for our sanity when we are a part of the other.

Today I made a list of all the reasons why I never loved you. I wished everything I came up with were true, but you know well that it isn’t. I miss you so much. I miss the way we were and the way we never were. Maybe it is all just a huge pile of turds.

I loved your eyes

I loved your hands

I loved your voice

I loved your words

I loved your smile

I loved your c*ck (a lot)

I loved your humour

I loved the way you touched me

I loved your vulnerability

I loved your creativity

I loved your thoughts

I loved that you saw me in the dark

I loved me when you loved me.

I loved everything about you. Every moment we shared; every tear we cried; every heart-felt laughter. I even loved the sounds you made – all of them.

If I were a drama queen, I would tell you that I don’t want to live without you. I knew love; I tasted it in your arms and on your skin. I would beg you to come back to me.

But here is the truth: I know that you are happier without me. And I know that you love her. You deserve to be happy. I am glad that you are. And I don’t want you to be back. I couldn’t handle it. It would probably kill me.

If I were able to let you go, I would find my own happiness too.

You are probably wondering why I am still attached to you after all these months. I can only guess; I guess it is because you were the first person to love everything about me. You didn’t try to change me or my moods. The nagging voice inside my brain says it is because you didn’t care at all. Maybe it is true.

I still like the memories we made. I still like you even if you hurt me like no one before.

I miss your hugs. I miss the way you took care of me. I miss who I was with you. Wish you were here. I am a little obsessed with our past right now. I am looking back at the time when I was less alone and lonely. Must be the time of the year, I don’t know. Everyone is looking forward to the change of the new year. Everyone is making plans for the future. But the year cannot change us if we are not ready to change. I don’t make sense at all. I feel silly admitting all these things. Every healthy woman would drop you and move on. But you were my breath, and some days I think back to that time when you told me how to breathe… You left a void nobody can ever fill, no matter how hard they try. Could it be that I am addicted to the way I felt with you? Could it be that I miss how I felt, not who made me feel that way? Am I giving you too much credit? Will I ever be able to take back my life?

I hope you think of me with a fond smile once in a while. I wish I left a small trace inside of you. Something good.

Forever not yours,

Sweetie

Sweet taboo

Take off All your clothes, you ordered. There was not an ounce of doubt; not a flash of hesitation, I complied. You knew I was your puppet, and we both enjoyed it. I stripped, trying to be sensual, but being my clumsy self instead. Of course, I couldn’t get my skinny jeans off my feet. Of course, the hooks of my bra got caught in my hair. Of course, I blushed and wished I hadn’t started this at all. My confidence was hanging on a thinning threat; any moment now, the wrong word – or what I interpreted as the wrong word, would make me run.

Look at me! Another order. I wasn’t submissive, but your voice and the mood we had created in our sanctuary made me obey. I looked at you, and you were smiling. I could see that even though my performance had been underwhelming, your body was reacting to me as much as I was reacting to yours.

You got up from your chair. Large steps. Warm hands. Shivers. Kisses. Nibbles. Don’t move! I didn’t dare to move. I almost forgot how to breathe. I was your prey. You were the predator. You devoured me, and it was the most enjoyable torture I ever endured, entirely at your mercy — flames of lust licking at our souls until they were sticky and we were unable to break apart.

Sweetest taboo. Again and again. We were made of passionate desire; feeding off each other, until it became too much to bear and our hearts exploded; our souls imploded, and our remnants were scattered; blown in the wind — eternal stars on the night sky.

Trapped! (rewrite – repost)

I have this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I know something terrible is going to happen. It has been quiet for too long. We are at war and quiet is never reassuring. It makes you believe that you are safe, but in reality, you are not. You are mere moments away from death. All the time. I have no idea, why we aren’t all going insane and slaughtering ourselves mutually, instead of waiting for the silent killers to take our lives and souls away while we are sleeping. Maybe it is only the fear that keeps us sane and alive.

It is getting dark as I walk down the street. The descending sun paints the sky in beautiful colours. The gravel crunching underneath my feet is all that can be heard, no people, no animals, nothing. And for a moment, I am lost in thoughts. For a moment, I am not afraid. For a moment, I am at peace. For a moment, watching the sun going down, I forget the impending doom. I hear a piano play from inside a house while I walk down the main road of the little village that I am passing. It is soothing. It is a bit of normalcy in a life that became too restricted lately. I needed to run and break free from everything and everyone who held me down, and now I am here. Tired, hungry and covered in grime. I don’t have the patience nor the discipline to stay in one place for too long. I can’t stand being with the same person for too long before I get bored. I need a change of scenery quite often. I need my freedom. I need my independence. I can’t submit to rules that I don’t understand and don’t require. One could say that I am a rebel, other would say that I am a coward. I am simply me. With all may layers. I add new layers daily. No one knows who I really am. Not even me.

My skin gets prickly, and the hair on my arms stand on end. I knew it. Too quiet. Too peaceful. And that’s when I hear that now so familiar sound. Bells. The telltale alarm sign. Bombs are coming. I hear the planes before I see them, and then, the first bomb is going down with a whistling sound. I see an explosion on the other side of the village, and I run.

I have no idea where I am, but I run. It is all I can do. Screams. Panic. Pain. Explosions that are in quick succession. Where am I supposed to hide? A woman comes running out of a house. She wears no shoes, but she doesn’t care. In her arms, she holds a small bundle. It takes me a second to understand that she is trying to save her child. The look on her face is one of pure horror. It’s the horror of war that turns beautiful faces into pale grimaces.

Politicians are deciding from safe places to kill innocent civilians, because of greed and for more power. We are collateral damage. People die, children die. Families lose sons and their entire existences, but the war goes on. Our future fades and turns into something unreachable every time we hear the sirens or the bells warning us from the evil that is raining from the sky.

The only thing we all have in common is fear. Constant fear. We don’t want to lose, but we the civilians, we the poor, can never win. We can’t win because all is lost. There is nothing left for us when the rich fed their protruding bellies with food and greed.

I keep running, scanning my surroundings for shelter, but safe space is sparse, and I am a stranger in this town. Who wants a stranger in their shelter, taking their space? I understand them, I really do. But I just want to live through this air raid and get on with my life. I don’t want anything else. I just want to live.

On a field left of me, I see the shadow of a man walking down into the earth. I shake my head at my own stupidity. There must be a bomb shelter, how else could a man walk down into the earth. I know that reaching this shelter is a matter of living and dying now.

Fear. My body is shaking, and I don’t know where the will and strength to survive are coming from. The noise is deafening, and I start running faster. I stumble over stones and upturned soil a couple of times, but that won’t stop me from running across the field. I have to get to that shelter. Maybe it is my only chance of seeing tomorrow. I want to see another sunrise.

Out of breath and determined to not fail when I am this close, I reach the closing doors just in time to pull them open again. A man stares up at me. If the look on his face is a mirror of mine own, he is as scared as me. He doesn’t hesitate to let me in, and with joint forces, we close the metal doors above our heads. Safe for now. The stranger descends the ladder.

Adrenaline is still pumping through our veins. Through mine. A loud rumble erupts over us. I’m still standing on the ladder, and I can feel it shaking. I pray to every deity in heaven to make this shelter safe. I climb down the rest of the way and hear a loud explosion again. I duck and put my hands over my head in a shielding manner. Rationally, I know that my hands on my head will not save me, but I do it anyway.

Nothing else happens, and I look at the man. I don’t really see him as a man. Not the way I usually watch men. I can’t say if he is handsome or which colour his eyes have. It is not essential now.

The stranger and I, we walk a little further into the shelter. There is another door, and he leads me through it; we close that one too. From one moment to the next, it is silent. Eerily so. The man finds a switch, and a flickering light bulbs cast a dim light over us. We both stand in the near dark, looking at the door as if we could see through it. See what is happening on the surface.

Maybe it’s just as good, that we can’t see anything. We can’t see the devastation and the destruction. We can’t see the pain in people’s eyes, and we can’t smell death. I feel my heartbeat in the vein on my neck. He must hear my blood pumping through my body in this absolute silence. There is a bed in this room and a table with two chairs. Along the walls are shelves, filled with tin cans and different supplies. I don’t want to look at it all. I don’t want to think about having to stay here. I am a bird. I need to be free.

We don’t speak. We just listen and wait. In this almost dark. Unconsciously, we move closer together. I can feel the heat of his arm against mine. It’s reassuring that I am not by myself. He must feel the same. We are comforting each other with our presence, not with words.

My legs are starting to get tired, and my neck is getting stiff from looking intensely at the door. It is still silent outside. No explosions, no rumble. No noise at all. I am not sure what is more frightening. The bombs or the silence.

After a while, my companion announces, that he wants to go up again. I follow him closely. I don’t want to stay behind. Be alone. At the top of the ladder, he tries to open our only way out, but he doesn’t succeed. He pushes harder and still, nothing happens. The metal door doesn’t budge.

I get up there too. Space on the ladder is very restricted, but maybe two can move more than one person alone. We push. But nothing moves. I have a vivid vision of one of us falling down the ladder and the other having to spend the rest of his own life with a decaying corpse. It makes me shudder, and I push harder until the muscles in my arms refuse to cooperate. Sweat runs down my face. I need to get out. I need to fly.

“Stop it! Gather your strengths. We are trapped.” The stranger hangs his head in defeat and walks down to the room where we were before. He is giving up. Why is he giving up? I need to get out of here.

Then, the realisation hits me hard; Trapped! It resonates through my head. My worst nightmare is coming true.

cold coffee

I pushed the door open with my foot, startling you. Your eyes were filled with sleep; mine were full of mischief. I came to your room with the intention to wake you up with the smell of coffee, but seeing you like this; naked, hard, embarrassed; it did things to me.

You were a guest in my house. A friend. The polite thing would have been to apologise and leave. But I couldn’t. I was hungry. Starving. And not for food. You looked at your erection, then at me. I licked my lips and tried to find a safe place for that cup of coffee in my hand.

You sat up and reached for the sheets to cover yourself. I shook my head. “Don’t, ” I croaked. You rose an eyebrow, probably intensely aware of the situation too. I kept my eyes on you, avoiding to see myself ungracefully join you on the mattress through the mirror on the wall.

“Hi, ” you said as if you were seeing me for the first time. Your hand was already in my hair, pulling my head; my lips, to yours.

Outside, rain was joining the wind that had been up all night. Inside, we were joining too.

Everything fit. Profoundly. Almost overwhelmingly. The natural flow of things didn’t take us aback. It didn’t leave room for doubts or vanities. Every touch meant something. Every time I felt your tongue on my heated skin, it felt as if I was becoming a part of you. Your hands explored my body as if they had never done anything else. The weight of you on my tongue was exactly right, and your taste made me swallow you as often as I could. I was drowning in our lust.

When you finally penetrated me, it only took a moment before the world exploded for me. Shivering, sweating, swearing, I encouraged you to keep moving. But you didn’t. You lay on top of me; your hands were caressing my hair, your eyes were searching my face for something that I couldn’t pretend wasn’t there. A smile appeared on your lips. Proud of yourself and how you had undone me, you kissed me. You were pulsating inside of me, but not moving. Heavenly torture. I begged for more, gyrated my hips underneath you, but you were stubborn. And too close to be consumed by our lust too.

Two micro moves later, you stopped breathing. Your sweat was dripping down on me from the tip of your nose; your eyes were closed. A strangled noise left your lips just before you started to breathe again.

I had seen you. I had felt you. And it left me breathless; and not only because your full weight was on my body now. The beauty and surprise of us in this situation was overwhelming. You kissed my temple and rolled off me with a loud groan and a chuckle. Your arm covered your eyes, and your hand was running up and down your stomach. The most handsome man who I had ever been with.

I put my head on your chest, your heartbeat sang a song for me, while I retraced the pattern of the tattoos on your skin. Your eyes were filled with sleep again. I covered us with the crumbled sheet, making sure that the wet spot we left was covering me and not you.

In a while, I would worry about the meaning of it all, but right then I decided to go with the flow and let it happen.

Only the coffee had grown cold.

Untitled (or raging storm)

Through the raging storm, I can see your radiating soul; your sparkling beauty that leads me away from the safe shore. You are begging and pleading for me to descend into the obscure with you, but there is still some fight in me. I am swimming against the current, refusing to bow down before you. O, but I see you and I want you to see me too, before you devour me and throw my rotting pieces into the fire. Dust. Your sweet soul is burning me, and there will be no ember left to rekindle. Burnt alive by the searing passion you ignited in me. My ashes will be blown away by the wind where I will become one with you, in the eye of the raging storm.

I hate prompts

Sara’s hands were roaming over the keys of the keyboard. She had always known what to write without giving it too much thought. She sat down, and the words would appear out of nowhere. Page after page were filled this way. It seemed to be a lifetime away now.

It was before Dennis had vanished from her life. Dennis had been her muse. He had been her inspiration. He had made her believe in the beauty of all things. Everything was energy in his eyes, and for a while, he had been her fuel.

Sara covered her face with her hands, shaking her head and letting out a low groan. Chuckling, she cursed. “Damn it, ” she pushed herself away from her desk and stepped to the window. It was dark outside. Pitch black. She could only see her own reflection. It was a sight she had tried to avoid ever since Dennis had left. Her mind threatened to drift from her content present to a grim past.

“Write Sara!” she ordered herself. She drank a glass of tap water and sat down in her chair again. Inspiration was still elusive. Sara began surfing the internet to find something to write about. Something that touched her enough to make her want to put it into words. There was nothing, and she decided to use the help of a site that shared writing prompts. She found hundreds of them. But there was not one that she wanted to work with. “I hate prompts,” she sighed and smiled. Once she had known a man, who used to say the same words. She smiled and let the memory take her away and onto the clouds of a daydream.

Dedicated to R.A. 💜

Heatwave – mature content

The heat, it got to her. She had always had a healthy sex-drive, but this here right now was a lot, even for her standards. She felt insatiable. Always in the mood.

Naked as she was, she let the light breeze, that found a way into her bedroom, caress her skin. It was as if her lover was gently tracing her nooks and folds and crannies with his tongue. She closed her eyes and arched her back. This felt good. Her hands knew where to go on their own. No explanation needed. One hand massaged her breast and played with her nipples, while the other hand traveled south. Legs spread wide, she didn’t waste time. Too good. She was wet. Not moist; no, dripping wet. The sound her body made as her fingers entered her spurred her on. She needed it. Right then. Right there. The smell of her own sex engulfed her and laid a thin veil over her senses, blocking out her environment. Sweat was covering her; droplets rolling down and pooling between her breasts. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue moaning deep within her throat. Almost there. She didn’t take her time, didn’t prolong the explosion that was at the tips of her fingers. Her legs were shaking. Ragged breath. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes were closed. More. More. More of this. Her hips moved on their own accord, trying to find more friction. The tingling that had started inside of her was spreading fast. She threw her head back with another moan. Her back was arched, her hair was drenched in sweat. Pulling her legs back to reach more; to enter herself deeper. It was there, she felt the wave coming. Ready to let her lose her mind.

Another touch startled her. Not her own hands. They ruined her orgasm. Calloused, male hands. Asking for permission to continue what she had started. She took her hand from her pussy, tasting her own lust with a sly grin. Eyes meeting eyes. Dilated pupils didn’t hide their carnal desires. The sensation of his hands on her was too much to bear. He knew how to push her buttons. He knew exactly how to read her body. What had started slow and casual was building up again. She was biting her hand to keep herself from screaming out her lust, but he didn’t allow it. He demanded to hear her. And there it was. The right touch. The right pressure. Too fast. Too soon. Her entire body tensed. She stopped breathing. And the heat swallowed her from within. Sensitive to his touch, she tried to move away, but he was not done. The night was young and it was too hot to sleep anyway…

untitled flash fiction 20180701 or With you, I want to live

“Do you ever think about suicide? About ending it all? Just vanishing? Being gone? Not existing at all?” he asked, avoiding making eye-contact. He took a sip of his coffee and looked at the people on the other side of the street. She didn’t answer. She didn’t know how. “I do,” he continued. “I think about it. All the time. Not about death itself, but how to make it easier for those around. And I wonder what they will say and who will miss me.” Their eyes briefly met, before he averted his gaze and looked at the clouds in his coffee. “I would miss you,” she croaked, cleared her throat and repeated the same words in a steadier voice. “Why?” he whispered. “Why” was a question that often made his life unnecessarily hard. That three-letter word made him dread and anticipate answers, all at once. “Because the thought of not having you close to me breaks me inside. The void you would leave would swallow me.” Tears welled up in his eyes. He didn’t want to make a scene, but she had a thing with words; always finding the words that forced his emotions to explode. “If you were gone, I would probably follow you. There is nothing keeping me here. If it wasn’t for you, I would not be here,” she whispered sadly. He didn’t know how to react and how to respond. He just covered her hand with his trembling one. She looked at their hands, then she lifted her head to look into his face – into his eyes. “Please don’t leave me behind,” she begged. “Never,” he replied. “I love you too much.” She nodded, wiping the corner of her eye. A tear was threatening to ruin her makeup. Lately, she had thought about taking her own life a lot. She led a happy life, but something dark was clawing at her thoughts. Something devastating was fraying the edges of her fragile soul. Holding on was much more exhausting than she would have ever thought. Why was living and staying alive so easy for most people? Why was it so hard for her? And him too. “Let’s promise each other to stay alive together for as long as we can. There are reasons to stay alive, right? If I remind you of them, and you me, we will be okay.” On the other side of the street, a toddler was crying in his stroller. From her point of view, it looked as if he didn’t like being strapped tightly in the stroller without any means to break free. “Freedom is just an illusion. A creation of the mind. The emotional cage we are living in is a creation of the mind too. It either helps us to stay sane, or we will break and grow insane.” He tilted his head to the side and took a sip of his coffee. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time. He had been too busy with his own thoughts, missing that she was not alright either. “Depression is a selfish bastard,” he thought out loud, taking his hand back. “We should go,” she ignored his statement, got up from her chair and put her bag over her shoulder. He stood next to her, kissed her forehead and let his hand find hers. She looked up at him. The affection in her eyes made his heart race. “I love you,” he blurted out. He had never said the words before, but they had never been this true and important to share either. A genuine beaming smile appeared on her face. She didn’t reciprocate his words. She didn’t have to; he felt her love wafting off her skin. Being alive wasn’t so bad, if he was allowed to do it with her.