The Deepest Thoughts Of Yore

Midnight's Wonder in Eden

Darkness. The heat of the body beside me warms me to my very soul and I revel in the feeling of completeness. If and when I decide to roll over as if in sleep, I know that I will not wake him, for he is as if dead, an unmoving mass beneath the covers.

I creep silently into his dreams and see my very own face. Eyes like crystals, staring at a distant emotion. My hair is like flames and I watch as it burns those around me. It burns him, but my dream self does not try to help him. He smiles and I know that he thinks that everything is all right. A dream.

I seep from his pores like sweat and lie back down beside him. I am content in the knowledge that I fill his head with visions of completeness, but I do not try to decipher what it all means. I have no desire to know if the crystals and fire actually mean anything, so I close my eyes and remain in silence.

I roll onto my side, my back to him and he breathes deeper for a second but does not wake. How well I know him. How well I know every curve of his body and every touch of his hand and lip. I know him as though I am him, but he doesn't know me. He thinks that I am the one lying beside him, but he doesn't realise how far from the truth that really is. How I know him.

One touch on his skin and I am back inside his head. His dreams are of whiteness and I watch as a body appears before me. My body. I can tell by the way that it moves. I can tell by the way he sighs and moves to greet it that, he is one with this body. This body that is me. Or is it?

In my waking, breathing, living time beside him, he moves in his slumber abnd I watch him, content to lie here and watch him always. I cannot see much in the deep night, but I know, in my head, what I am seeing.

He is frowning and his brow is furrowing, as though some animal is under the surface trying to escape the visions in his head. Then a smile. A smile that calms me and lets me know that everything is all right. A smile that I know as my own.

I roll to face him and, as if drawn by some force within my body, some powerful, sensual magnetism lures him into rolling onto his side, to be with my face. He smiles again and reaches out to where I am. I know his touch as if it is my own and I smile in recognition. I know him. He thinks he knows me.

I reach out to him, a pale hand in the night and touch the smile on his lips. A kiss. Is it real or like all the others? It's real. I can tell by the tingling current surging through me and I smile again. He knows it's real. He knew it, even before he sent it out to me. He's trying to trick me.

He is sleeping deeply again. He has fallen, once again, under the wave that threatens to drown him.

I roll away again, my face to the blank face on the other side of me and he curls up behind me, holding tight to my body as though it is a buoy. Silent laughter courses through me. I wonder if he realises that he holds me so close to his own self; his own column of solidness that I once used to cling to.

I am my own self now and even with this other hanging off me like skin, I can still feel my oneness. He is just there to keep me warm and make me remember that I am alive.

Greyness. Outside, the world is waking and here I am, still with my eyes to the wall, open and dry. I will sleep later, when I have nothing to think about.

There is something cold against my belly. It creeps and slithers against my skin, but I do not reach down to brush it away. It is not an unpleasant sensation. In fact, it is rather comforting.

He breathes deeply behind me and a hand snakes out and touches my thigh. It is a warm hand, one that I know immediately as being his. I'm sure that he would be happy in knowing that. He would think that it makes me his. In a way, I guess I am.

The noises outside become louder and I become less and less tired. My eyes are like crystals in the growing day and I can almost see them reflected in the wall near my face. They burn as though they have a life within and that life is not me. They are one, by themselves, just as I am one. My eyes are important, but I don't need them to see. If I use them, then I see the things that Hide from others, the things that hurt and scorch me.

I see him. I see him as if in some lucid dream, a beautiful body floating before me. His eyes are like jade-coloured glass, reflecting the pain in my heart. His smile is like that of a shark and he devours my very existence.

I see him and I no longer want to be one. I want to be together, a two, with him and he laughs at this wonderment. I need him and yet I don't. I want him and yet I can't stand to be near him. I love him and yet I despise him with my very life. He is the one that burns me every day of my life and I am unable to hide away from him blows.

I see him and I can see no other - past, present, or future. He is everything and I am nothing. This is why I don't want my eyes! This is why I don't want to be one! I don't have the courage to stand alone. I don't have the courage to fight him when I am weak. He knows. He smiles. And he caresses my wounds so that they turn to silver and melt into the paleness of my skin. We are two, but I don't want that, because that's what he wants.

He wants to devour me like a forbidden fruit. I am not his and yet he keeps me chained lik some animal on a string, performing tricks when he requires them. Love is a trick. He pays me to do it; he pays me in love.

Brightness. The knife from beside my belly is a living thing in the sunlight. It grows and shines and I remove my eyes to save them from his death. He twists and turns beside me, alive and yet not. In sleep, he is more beautiful that I ever imagined, but I cannot live with that. I cannot live with the fact that, he is more beautiful than I am. I love him and I hate him. And that's why he must die. Death to the innocent. Death to the guilty. Death to the beautiful. And death to him.




A shadowy form in the doorway. She has come. She, too, has been watching and has now taken the risk in coming here. Her short hair is a halo when it really should be horns. Her hazel eyes catch the light like mirrors as she steps into the room. Closer, closer.

She spies his form on the bed, lit as if from within. His dark hair is wet and stuck to his head like dried jam. He doesn't move. He doesn't speak. He doesn't even seem to be breathing. Yet he is alive. She can smell him in the air like a deer smells danger. He is alive and she wants him to be hers.

She hasn't really dressed for this seemingly special occasion. She is dressed, as always, in the colour of night. The colour of darkness, the colour of criminals. The colour of death.

She likes to see herself as a snake preparing to strike, preparing to inject her filthy venom into her chosen one's veins.

But not tonight. Tonight she will not take the one that she has chosen. Tonight she will return home, hungry and alone. There will be no feast for her tonight. I step from the shadows.

When she sees me, her eyes flash in the dark like neon signs holding a dire warning. I take no notice. She has no authority over me. She never has and she never will. Fear the darkness I can bring as I take this one into the light. She leaves in silence.

In the blackness, I turn to him - the him that has now become you. Why should I treat you as a nobody when we will soon become so close?

The darkness has dissipated too, now that I have you within my soul as mine and mine alone. I can see you more clearly, yet the night still casts its shroud of secrecy over us, holding us close.

I step towards you, a slender flower swaying in the night breeze. An exotic figure sheathed in blue satin, at once one with the dark and then a separate part entirely. When looked for, I disappear into the dark like mist.

I slide onto the bed like honey and I am just as sweet. When I want to be. I catch my image in the mirror - feline, glowing, skin as pale as milk against the blue and the night. Sapphire eyes above a blood-red mouth. An hungry mouth. I can feel it and I can see it with a glance. Don't wake and see it too.

You don't even stir when I end up beside you and I smile to myself. Oh, to be as catlike as I am. One in a million. Perfect. And I'm so loved for it. Men so love my feline nature, the way I purr if I think they'll enjoy it, how I wrap myself around them so languidly and how I eventually bite them, so like the wild cat that they see me as. My life is perfect.

Your eyelids flutter when I place my lips on your bare wrist. I kiss my way up your arm and delight in watching your lips part silently. You're so strong, perhaps thinking that I am not real. I am an apparition; an erotic dream come true. Well, that's what you think.

An hot body beneath my own, glowing with perfection. I see most male bodies in this way - rich with promise and full of life and lust. An exotic drink to pour into myself, hot and pulsating. My heart beating in unison.

I want you to see me. I want you to open your eyes and see me, a star in the night sky. A cat, a woman, an owl, a demon. A twin. A twin who has taken you within herself, to cherish and love as part of her flesh. I am that twin. I am that star, that cat, that woman, that owl. I am that demon. Love me as I love you and you will not be harmed. Disobey me and I cannot promise that your life will be your own when I am done. Fear me. Love me. See me.

I see you see me. Hooded faces within your face, watching, waiting. Do you love? Do you fear? Good. Let's begin.

Your eyes glow serenely, unsure of this vision before you. I smile, but I know that you still don't trust me. You love me, though, so I won't hurt you for not trusting. Instead, I will pour my passion over you, bathing you in its power.

Pulling back the sheets, I discover you. Naked and perfect. I couldn't have hoped for more. Ready for me, as if for the first time. I will make it like your first; when I am through, no others will have gone before. You will be my virgin sacrifice.

With no clothes for me to remove from your magnificent form, I concentrate on giving you pleasure. Let yourself drown in it, my Adonis. Give in to me completely.

So quickly you respond to my touch, a searing flame beneath my fingertips. Let me do everything for you; I will not leave until everything is done. Any complaints? I didn't think that there would be.

Your dark eyes watch me, your face totally serious. This form sitting astride you, taking utter control. Weightless and yet totally real. I give enough pressure to show that I am not just a dream, but that is all. Maybe, after this, you'll dream about me forever - in life and in death.

A finger on your torso, light as breath. Breathing downwards, swallowing you with a caress. You try not to squirm, your neck a tense column of masculinity. How strong you are. Yet I am stronger.

My lips on a nipple, as light as my touch, yet with so much more. They hold a promise that I dare not break. A promise of more pleasure than you have ever known before. A kiss, a lick, a nip and you are mine completely.

I try to keep my eyes on you as I place kisses all over your torso and arms. Two little fires burning in the dark, reveling in your reactions to me. A tongue across your lips, a sigh, a flutter of your eyelids. I love everything that you are willing to share with me. We are becoming so familiar.

Reflected in your eyes, I am paler than before. I can see the confusion on your face, but don't let it bother you. Just take me for what I appear to be and ask no questions. I'm not sure that you would want to hear my answers anyway.

I hold you to me and let our hearts become one. Beat, beat, beat. The life force that binds us to one another - stronger than any substance known to man. Ot known to woman for that matter. We are as one person in the fog of life.

A hand on my waist. I smile at your softness and the barvery that you have finally decided to show. The satin of my skin beneath the satin of my gown, warming to your touch like breath on a cold window. A frozen lake beginning to thaw with the first sigh of spring. I am winter, you are spring.

I am fading. I can see it in your expression that, I am slowly disappearing from your vision. I am here, yet I am going. I will never leave you, but in your eyes I am becoming no more. Hold me and I will promise to stay. I feel so drained, so empty.

I can feel no sustenance coursing through my veins, as though I don't exist. What is happening? You look so confused, yet I know exactly what is going on. I am dead. I am not really here at all, except in your dreams. I will live there always. I'm so lifelike, aren't I? Belive in me and I will be reincarnated into this rose that is before you. All you have to do is believe in me and what I am.

I am like glass - you can see into any part of me that you want to. Nothing lies within me - no feelings, no thoughts. Just this incredible thirst. You can't understand and I don't expect you to. Just believe.

When I touch you now, you seem to recoil. I can't help the way I am. I had no choice in the matter! Look beyond that and accept me, that's all I ask. Let's continue.

You reach up to touch my face and I smile. You're so gentle now, now that you think you know what I really am. You were gentle before, but there's something new in your touch now. A vibrance, a passion for life, a love of the unknown - it's all there. My main fear is what you will think of me in the end.

I slide off your body and lie beside you. You turn to me and we lie there, just looking at each other. Me fading into nothingness and you so full of life. A lock of hair brushed off my face, a fingertip across my mouth. My gentle Adonis; you are falling into the hungry jaws of the lioness. No crucifixes can save you from this demon.

When I move towards you, you don't back away. You watch me steadily, awaiting my next move. Your bravery is a virtue. I honor you for it, but it doesn't change what I have to do. Above all else, I have to survive.

I place my lips on your throat and when I can hold back no longer, I am within you. I am drawing from you, out of the two incisions that I have made. You are my life. I will soon be real again!

You struggle and try to push me away, but things are too much past that. I hang on until you can do nothing else but cling to me. I am your strength now. I drain your strength into myself.

I am coming back. I am no longer a crystal angel suspended over your aroused form. I am the milk-skinned demon who promised to bow to your every whim. Never trust a demon, my love; she will always leave you unsatisfied and alone. She takes only what she needs for herslf and nothing more.

I withdraw myself from you and your hands slowly lose their grip and fall away. Eyes full of horror, but lips full of rapture. I close your eyes. I'm sorry that it had to end this way, but it was inevitable; it was exactly as I promised.

With your beautiful body still warm, though death is caressing you, I take the second thing that I came for. One pleasure after another. Then I'm gone. You're dead now; I have no use for you any more.


Mental Torture

I see you walking up the path through the barred windows of my dank, sunless prison. I watch you until you disappear beneath me and I know that you are inside. The window is cool agaonst my hand, where I am able to reach through the thick, steel bars and I feel like screaming out for you to turn back, before it is too late. It is already too late; you are already being led down stark white corridors, past hundreds of closed doors.

You are not used to this place - I can tell - for you jump every time someone screams in the solitude of his room. I can see the terror in your eyes as a man in a white hospital gown confronts you. He pulls his hair and contorts his face, before lifting up his gown and revealing himself to you. You cringe away, your hands fluttering at you white throat. He is led away and you continue on your way again, the image of the man still in your head.

You pass through many corridors, before you find the white, steel door that you have been looking for. It has a small window in it, at eye-level and your green eyes show your fear as you peer nervously through the smudged glass.

You step into the room and although your presence is new to us, no one turns your way. We are busy: balancing paper cups on tables, talking to ourselves, or staring at a light fixture and saying "cockroach" pver and over; to everyone, but to no one.

The door clicks shut behind you and you turn, startled, before looking back at us again.

"Hello," you say timidly. "I am Dr Stein."

Your voice is clear and authoritarian, although nervous and shaky. One by one, our heads turn to look at you. You stand very straight and try to look calm, but I notice the way your lips are trembling and how tightly you are holding your clipboard.

Our attention span is only short and we soon tire of looking at you, so we resume our activities. You stand there a few moments longer, fear still visible in your eyes. Then you head over to Harry, who is staring at the wall with his eyes glazed over.

You introduce yourself again and I see the way your thin brow furrows when his expression doesn't change. He is usually very talkative, in his own way, but today he has chosen to be quiet, just for you. You make a note on your clipboard, trying to look professional.

I sit back in my chair by the window and watch you, interested, as you leave Harry and walk up to the men at the low card table. They are balancing paper cups, one on top of the other and Franklin turns his too-large eyes to you.

"Hello," you say, when you see that you have his attention. "I am Dr Stein."

You put out your trembling hand for him to shake, but he doesn't even acknowledge it as he stands to his full height of 6'4". You cower in his shadow and take a small step backwards before he speaks.

"I know who you are," he whispers menacingly. "You're one of those sickos who molests little kids. You pick them up in your car and you drive off with them." His voice rises to a scream, but no one looks at him. No one but you, who can't get away.

"You drive away with them in your cosy, fancy car and you touch them where they're not supposed to be touched!" he screams. "You're sick! Sick, sick, sick!" You cover your ears with your hands to try to shut his voice out, but he only stops when Peter touches his arm.

Obviously no one told you that Franklin was a police officer before he came here. He tried to catch child molestors and paedophiles, but all the while, it was happening to his daughter. His own daughter! I bet you didn't know that. Not even he knew that until it was too late. He was the one who found her mutilated body, her private parts torn and bleeding. His five-year-old daughter had been molested, raped and murdered by his best friend. I bet you didn't know that!

You back away from him quickly, keeping your eyes on his to make sure that he doesn't come at you again. I know that you are crying; I can see the way your eyes have become a brilliant green. Be brave!

I can seeeverything; that's why I am here. I told the world that I was special, that I could see things that others couldn't, but no one would believe me. They were jealous; that's all; jealous. I bet you didn't know that!

Now you are walking slowly to Christopher, who has a fascination with light fixtures and the word "cockroach". You try to get some sense out of him, but you don't know that he hears no one, not even his own voice. They didn't tell you much before you came here, did they? They didn't tell you enough for you to be able to cope.

Now you are leaving. You scuttle past the barred windows and you look at me as you pass. What do you see in my eyes when you find that I have been staring at you? Can you read that I've been undressing you in my mind? Can you read that I've been doing this since you arrived? Can you?

In your eyes, I see shock and a revulsion so deep that, your mouth is curved into a grimace. They didn't tell you much before you came here, did they? You must be able to see this question in my eyes, because you scarmble out of the room, closing the door quietly behind you.

I see you pass through many corridors, with the screaming roosm on either side of you. I see you walking back down the path through the barred windows of my dank, sunless prison. I watch you until you disappear into the street.

I know you won't be back; others like you never come back. They didn't tell you much before you came here, did they? I watch outside for a few minutes longer, then I rock back my head and laugh.

Highly Commended, Greater Dandenong Local Writers Award 1998