I Might Be Slightly Insane

Foreign & Exotic Flavours - IV

The clock was ticking at snail’s pace, dragging itself along agonisingly slow from second to second, minute to minute. The constant ticking sound pricked his ears like a little bloodsucking mosquito that buzzed and bite, buzzed and bite, draining the life force out of him drop by precious drop, impossible to be stop or captured no matter how many times he tossed and turned. Julian was getting restless. Time, for so many days his friend and companion along with books and pen in his own recreational solitude, now turned its back and tortured him with a million tiny daggers pricking at his body with each movement of the blasted clock.

The rain was pouring outside. Why, for the love of God, does it have to rain every time someone’s feeling particularly restless, drowning in his or her own confusion, or when everything goes horrifically wrong? A question no storyteller would readily answer, and neither would I. In Julian’s case, the rain seemed to have been brought on by the first situation, though in a tale such as this, nothing is ever certain.

Lightning flashed, lighting up the night scenery and thunder roared out like a wounded beast. Just that moment, the old clock chimed in with the duet with twelve of its much awaited ding, dong. Springing out of bed, Julian couldn’t give a toss what he looked like and bolted for the door.

“Down the hall to thy left,” he mumbled. The hall in the flickering orange glow of torchlights seemed so much longer than reality. Briskly and with determination, Julian marched down the hallway. His mind at the late hour was playing tricks on him. Paranoia was taking over. A faint chuckle could be heard bouncing off the walls like a skittish butterfly. Very soon now. He was approaching the corner, or was it the corner approaching him? The pounding in his heart clouded his ears, he could hear nothing but. A yearning that can’t be traced back to its source rose within him as the end of one hall and the beginning of another came into sight.

Rounding the square corner, his breath caught in his throat. 

Her dress was of cloth-of-gold, shining brilliantly like a precious jewel as lightning tore across the sky. Her back was to him as she gazed out the big window at the dark and drenched landscape below.

“Lady Winters,” Julian managed to voice, “You asked for my presence?" 

The lady turned her head, red lips smiling and amber eyes smoldering his even from a distance.

“Julian,” she said, beckoning him closer with a curling finger, “Come here.”

Like a man possessed, Julian followed her command without a word protest. The arch window lit up with the powerful natural force, casting an ethereal halo upon the goddess before him, pulling him towards her.

“Please, call me Sandra,” she implored, a hand running down his chest.

“Sandra…” He breathed.

“That’s better,” she chuckled, the sound like sweetest sugar pouring into his ear. Her touch felt like satin against his goose-bumped skin, “I really like you, Julian. Perhaps I have been derived of contact with such fine young men like yourself. The solitude has made me rather,” she whispered against his lips, “hungry.”

He swallowed.

“Is there anything I can do to sate you?” The words escaped him before he could understand them.

She laughed.

“More than you believe you’re capable of.” With that, her lips pressed against his, sending him floating to heaven.

His mouth moved against hers, sweetness and tenderness infiltrated the air. She, however, had other plans. In one swift movement, the lady turned and pressed Julian to the glass window, tearing apart his shirt in the process. The cold contrasted deliciously against the heat of his bare skin. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. Suddenly his felt another pair of lips pressed against his neck and more hands raking his torso. His eyes snapped open.

“Shh,” a voice hushed, “It’s alright.” And once again, he drifted back into that ocean of bliss. 

Claw-like nails broke his skin and sunk into his stomach but measure masked up pain with its intoxication. He felt nothing but euphoria. Blood pooled out of the corners of his mouth and stained his lips. The ladies eyes flashed red as they doubled their assault, lapping hungrily at the crimson liquid until it, too, ran rivulets down their chins.