Saturday, September 12, 2015

A Meal of Her Loins

Okay, so it's bee a bit longer than I anticipated, but here, at last, is my sixth entry to the now ended 2015 River of Mnemosyne challege. Enjoy "A Meal of Her Loins:"


     Finally he stood before Her presence. The Goddess was made flesh. It wasn’t exactly his intention, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he had done it in the end, but it didn’t really matter, did it? Here was the proof. He wasn’t crazy. Wasn’t going mad like he had started to believe. Hope stood before him in all her glory.

     “Well, Kirby...” She spoke, Her voice resonating every fiber of his being, threatening to rip him apart with its perfection. “You’ve got me. Now, what are you going to do with me?”

     He didn’t quite understand the question at first, not until She placed Her oh so perfect hand on his unworthy shoulder and moved in close. So very close. Dangerously close. Intimately close. Seductively clo...

     Breaking away quickly, he tried to rationalize, “My Goddess, we can’t. I mean... You’re... I’m...” he tried his best, but the power of speech seemed to suddenly leave him as he fell back into those eyes, swirling galaxies of forever.

     Before he could find another word, She was close again. Gently, reassuringly, She placed Her index finger on his lips, shushing him with a slow shake of Her head. He relaxed, every bit of tension suddenly gone as he was lost in Her. Time seemed to slow to a trickle, the world around them melting away. It was just the two of them, Kirby and his Goddess.

     Things seemed to slip past him. How did they get into this bed? Where had it come from? Whose bed was this? It wasn’t his. Could it be Hers? No. Not unless... but that was crazy. He couldn’t be in the void with Her... could he? There did seem to be a surprising lack of atmosphere around them. No light, no outside noise, no hum of life... nothing. What if he had mucked up the ritual somehow? Brought himself into the void instead of bringing her out? What would this mean? Was he trapped here? What would become of him? How was he breathing? How did the void even work? Was it space or some kind of anti-space? Questions whizzed through his mind as panic began to take hold of him, but then She was there and it all washed away again. She lay beside him in all Her glory, and he realized he too was naked as the day he was born. The sheets moved almost liquidly against his bare body. He could feel Her warmth as their flesh touched. Once again, time oozed around them. It was almost as if they were in their own private universe, one made just for them.

     The passionate lovemaking that followed was a blur. It wasn’t really experienced in any linear fashion, but moments came through. Two bodies at times seemed to be one, moving together and apart in rapid succession. “The beast with two backs” seemed to take on literal meaning at times, he could no longer tell where his own form ended and Hers began. They were a supple, serpentine mound of flesh, writhing beneath sheets of spun gold. Some times he could hear his breathing, other times he could not. Some times he could hear Her breathing, hot moisture in his ear, other times there was nothing but a deafening silence. Was this real? Was this all really happening? Did it matter? Kirby Lee experienced a bliss he had never known possible. The world went white and he closed his eyes.

     Just then, he heard a bleating noise. Clearing the confusion from his mind, the white nothing that had invaded him, he suddenly placed it as the Goat. Hope the goat was crying out. But how could he hear her here? This was a private place just for himself and his Goddess. Had the ritual pulled her through as well? What was going on? With the questions and panic returning, he opened his eyes.

     Horror! There before him was Hope, the goat, lying on her back, hairless, hind legs spread. He could feel a sudden moisture on his lips and chin. He moved his hand towards his face and wiped some of it away. Looking down, he saw blood, goat’s blood, Hope’s blood. He looked down into what could only be described as a darkness in the region of the goat’s loins. He could almost see something, a glimmer, perhaps? She continued bleating, staring at him with those large eyes. He could almost read something in those eyes. Was it pain? Love? Hope?

     Whatever it was, it broke the spell he was under and he started back violently, a silent scream forming in the back of his throat as he found himself falling out of the bed he was still laying in.

     With that, reality reasserted itself and Kirby Lee hit the now very solid floor below, the floor of his bedroom, sheets tangling his legs and forcing him into an upside down position, head on the carpet, blood rushing to his brain. He had to work slowly to get himself out of this new, awkward position he found himself in as the sounds of Hope’s bleating continued in the backyard.

     “God, it was just a dream,” Lee said. “Like the plot of a bad television show.” His writer’s mind was a little insulted that he had turned into such a cliche, but that’s what all this stress and anxiety had done to him.

     Lately it felt like his talents as a writer were dwindling, melting away. It was as if all the creative energy he had was being sapped away, taken by some unseen force.

     Once he was clear of his sheets, he made his way into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face. He glanced into the mirror to see the haggard form that he had become. It was no wonder he thought he was going crazy, he looked it.


***



     Deep in the void, the Goddess sat back in exhaustion. She had sapped all the energy Lee had built up for Her just to make that vision happen. Things had slowed down and She was getting impatient. The ritual must happen, She thought, it must...


Expect the remaining entries in the next few days. I'm trying to create a regular writing period for myself. Until then,


William the Bloody Takes a While To Get Back To Something But Gets There Eventually Redd