May 12, 2015 - 0 Comments - Short Stories, Writing -

A Kiss in the Dark – A Short Story

And then her lips leave mine. And that’s when I wake up. The digital display on the bedside clock shows 3:15am. The same time as yesterday. And the night before that. Three years of the same, repeated over and over again, every night. I know the nightmare has to end. It’s only my shame that lets it carry on.

It starts as it always does, with me, asleep on our couch. No surprises there, love had long since pushed me out.

My mobile phone starts ringing, vibrating away in my pocket. Once, twice, thrice. The same as that night. Annoying as it pulls me from sleep. It comes out of my pocket. In the dark, my fingers find the silent button. It flies across the room. Ignored. An eternal pact with the morning . It lets me fall back asleep.

Her hand slides across my shoulder, begging me to wake. Her fingertips caress my neck, demanding attention. That’s how I know I’m only dreaming again. Because at the end, her caress is a memory almost forgotten. I feel her hair fall over my shoulder as she leans over me. I feel her breath against my neck. She doesn’t say a word, but everything about her says to follow. As if I could resist.

Her fingers slides down my arm until they find my hand. They curl around my hand until her fingertips press into my palm. I shouldn’t have given up. She walks around the couch to pulls me to my feet. She doesn’t say a word, but everything about her says to follow. As if I could resist.

She dives into me, her arms wrapping around my neck. Her hair falls over her face, covering her eyes as her forehead presses to mine. Her lips pass a breath from mine and I can’t help but match her smile. If only I could remember the blushed shade of her lips. Then she spins from my arms and turns from me. She doesn’t say a word, but everything about her says to follow. As if I could resist.

I catch her in the doorway. My arms wrap her waist from behind. Three years too late. She takes a deep breath in my arms, content, and then unwraps my arms and walks forward. She doesn’t say a word, but everything about her says to follow. As if I could resist.

She sits on the side of the bed. With her hands, she coyly hides her face, biting her lip in a sirenic smirk. I remember that one, that night. So many years ago. She turns away from me and crawls further up the bed. She doesn’t say a word, but everything about her says to follow. As if I could resist.

She pushes me supine. An echo of how I found her. She holds my shoulders down as she straddles my hips. Her head tilts back, falling into ecstasy. She doesn’t say a word, but everything about her says to follow. As if I could resist.

And then her lips leave mine. Only a moment, to be kissed again. Left a life, never to be kissed again. She doesn’t say a word, but everything about her says to follow. As if I could resist.
And that’s when I wake up. And the display on the bedside clock always shows 3:15am.

***

I know the nightmare has to end. I’m too ashamed to let me carry on.

It starts as it always does. My mobile phone rings. Once, twice, thrice. I don’t need to check the display to know it’s her, calling from the other room. Her fingertips caress my neck, and she has my attention. Her fingers curl around my hand until her fingertips press into my palm, and I can’t give them up. Her lips pass a breath from mine and I can’t help but smile as I remember her red blushed lips. My arms wrap her waist from behind and I know this shouldn’t have taken me three years. She may coyly hide her face, but there will be no forgetting tonight. I fall on my back and I’ve almost found her.

My alarm goes off. 3:14am. Timed enough for one last dream. I couldn’t help myself. One last dream of her.

My eyes open and stare deep into her cold dead eyes. Her pallid face hovers a breath from mine, were there breath left.

“Follow,” she says.

As if I could resist. Her frigid blue lips press to mine, never to leave again.

By Ben Wise

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