“Would you like a ride? I could give you a lift.”
I normally don’t.
He pulled his hood back from his head, a handsome one too. Concern thrown to the wind I got in.
We drove and he said, “I need to stop here, one moment.”
He walked to a spot and stood. I approached. He’d been so still. Gently touching his arm I jumped. He was stone cold.
The placard read, “Here lies Gentleman Jim. Loved nature. Lent a hand to all.”
Startled, smiling, I got back in the car and drove away.
Still have it to this day.
How do you write about romance when you’re dead was what I thought as I stood before the full-length mirror peeling skin from my elbow. I don’t mean skin from scab but skin from me. I’d been dead a while, in fact so long I’d lost track or so I thought. There’s only so much you can do with it, romance – I mean there were so many good men around the corner in a romance novel it began to get annoying and really unbelievable. I’d finally stopped reading and gave one friend a stack she’d given me of her favorite author.
Can I remember anything from when I was alive. The fingers still work if that makes sense at all. Wasn’t rigor mortis supposed to set in so I couldn’t type. How can I be dead and type? There’s color. It’s not like I’m in a grey room and outside looks cloudy. Today was beautiful, a sun shower and rainbow that broke into two with the colors opposite of each other, then extra stripes, is that what they are, extra layers, yes, extra streams of color formed. It was awesome. No one ever comes in the house though, not even daring people who risk entering haunted houses. I’d heard two kids standing in the yard, my hearing is extremely acute now, saying that I’m still in here for real and no one should come in not even on a dare.
“He held her close. They’d been dating for a while that involved his or her car, sometimes a back seat – why was sex always part of it like it was a ritual – and doing something else too. They liked to do things together. This was a day it was sex first. They tumbled onto the bed and kissed , sloppy, wet, trying to swallow each other whole. He rolled her over, she rolled him over, if they’d wound up on the floor neither would have felt it. He surprised the hell out of her by penetrating now. He’d slid his sweats down and found his way over her waistband and between but wasn’t at the right spot. He caused her to moan from the pressure, the pain, and desire from being so close. He was a rod, a wide bar that needed insertion. She slid her hand but he stopped her. Maneuvering his lack of hips around he pushed hard still in the wrong place but had moved himself up a little so his head was close. Head, ha… what most men think with. He pushed hard again and she moaned from the pain. he was so close but not enough as his dryness stuck to her. she though he might break her, break her skin and make a new canal to where he wanted to be, where he could swim. She tried to speak but he covered her mouth with his, pushed down hard on her hand to ensure it wouldn’t move and pushed so hard he entered but not without causing her pain as he broke the dryness away. She felt like she could bleed, that she should be bleeding. As soon as he hit the spot she forgot about everything, what he’d done, the pain and was lost to absolute pleasure making soft sounds until he slammed her hard. He covered his mouth with hers again so she couldn’t speak.”
“I’ll need to read this over”, I thought as I stood in front of the mirror again. A piece of skin flapped over from my knee. It wasn’t gross and bleedy, it was dry underneath with tendons and muscles looking about the same as if it didn’t matter whether or not I had skin. I decided to take a longer break and go for a walk. I opened the front door and the sun was dazzling although I couldn’t feel if it were hot or cold. I’d have to see how people were dressed today. I brought my grocery bag to pick up a few things. I ate. Food tasted good. I wonder what others see. Is there a bag floating along on its own or is it invisible like I seem to be. Is it no one is looking? How could they not react to my appearance? They mustn’t be able to see me. That’s all I can figure.
As I rose in the dark I turned toward the alarm. It wasn’t necessary for it to ring. The night had woken me. A thrill ran through me in anticipation of contemplation and mysteries to be revealed. Turning on a low light I began the count. “Come to me.” I heard the winds stir, whip around the house, rustle trees to burst through the window, its coolness an icy breath on my face and neck. A chill shot through me. I stilled myself, waiting. I became aware of touch, moving touch between darkness and light, warm, exciting. I didn’t dare open my eyes.
“Who are you?”
The prompt for this week:
“…as I rose in the dark…”
What do you do when the Eloi and Morlocks live together and both camps have become apathetic? You are the time traveler and any way you look at it you are outnumbered. As a rule there are no Eloi to stand at your side; thankfully Morlocks are dormant, snoring, but, what if? Maybe it’s not the worse case scenario… or is it?
Third and Fourth Worlds are the parallel universes of fantasy far from fantasy although fantastic, unbelievable and frightening. You know the fantasy I mean like a clown with pointy teeth – as he gets closer you realize it’s not a smile it’s just he can’t close his mouth – the stuff nightmares are made of. I have traveled in time to such a place, such travel being easy these days thanks to modifications available to our automobiles, and am caught amongst these Eloi and Morlocks, the latter a presence imposing threat. There are a few of us who’ve traveled to this place from different times in the past but we are too spread out and too few to offer each other support or assistance. Should there be trouble of any kind we must stand alone to oppose the brutality lest the empire be revived. None of this makes any sense if they’re sleeping but consider wandering into a bears’ den, it not being spring just yet and whether through a blunder or instinct sensing your presence they’re wakened. I was already in a parallel universe ready to travel back to my own world but a friend became trapped here. His vehicle slipped a cog in the simplest terms causing his car to go dead. Glad as I was to see him and to not be alone I stayed behind to lend a hand. The mechanics of this world are 20 years behind our technology, not as archaic as having to make special exploding logs to feed a steam locomotive to get a DeLorean up to 88 MPH, but it’s not good either. It’s been 4 years earth-time so far. Seems longer.
Now before you start thinking you’ve heard all this before know that Eloi and Morlock references are metaphoric and not what the indigenous people call themselves but it is so similar to what was depicted in that old movie, it could be scary except that marveling at the similarities causes distraction. People have the capability to be like that and they really are. What makes matters worse (or better depending on how you see it) is my friend married, yes, one of the Eloi. Life was already complicate being in a parallel universe but leaving it is more of a challenge for two reasons, one being practical mechanics and the other that he has family here. This universe offers him a new kind of life, not the best life and if he’s not careful he could lose himself, a risk we all take day to day but in some places it’s worse or harder to keep hold.
So that’s how it began. Could I draw a map and easily pinpoint ‘we are here’? No. It could change in a blink.
Where could I possibly be going with this? To paraquote another of my favorite 21st century movies: that is the right question.
The smile had more teeth to it than it should have. They were pointy; sharp. He sat behind a dune painting feverishly. Concentrating. His countenance changed, elongated teeth glistened when someone entered the beach, lackadaisically pushing toes through the sand approaching the shore believing this was the day that would be like none other, a precious day of freedom, of rest from labor.
No one knew what lay in wait.
“the prompt this week: