| Stanley Part 2 - Spellbound
Arwydau enjoyed watching the Living human boys. How they liked to dice with death as if they were the immortal ones. They always played a little too close to the edge of the manmade pathways littering the dell, running higher and faster than they should. One minute, young and beautiful, the next, shrouded in grey and shuffling through the end of their days with mortal longings and regrets.
Scowling down at the river bed below, Arwydau noticed a few lingering traces of the annoying, as well as debilitating, orange iron water as it gushed on by.
Swinging her bare legs over the granite boulder beneath her, Arwydau dragged her eyes away from the Living and sprawled out leisurely to soak up the glorious re-emerging sunshine as it broke through the luscious tree canopy above.
What was left of the iron traces the rain had washed from the moor above, down into the river, would soon be flushed further downstream. By the time that happened, she would be dry from the recent rain and refreshed enough to move on.
A crow sounded a warning as one of the Living human boys spied and chased after a couple of Annwn’s hounds who looked to have run off with some papers. The boy stopped abruptly on a narrow outcrop of rock directly above Arwydau. He stared at her, spellbound.
“How on earth did you manage to get down there?” he shouted as if to a naughty child. Then, in a friendlier, yet still superior tone, he added, “Don’t worry! I’ll work my way down and have you safe and sound in no time at all!”
Arwydau laughed. The tinkling notes of her derisive and dismissive outburst lost on the ripples of the fast flowing river below.
Poor deluded Living human boy! She would play with him a little before he fell to his death. Using her magic, Arwydau ensured that the land was firm wherever the Living boy placed his feet and that any foliage he clung to was firmly rooted.
The boy made his way carefully down towards Arwydau and stood dumbfounded on a granite ledge opposite. She watched amused as he sought to figure out a way to reach her.
Arwydau enjoyed the Living boy’s mental anguish. She waited as he ruled out every possible logical option and yet still continued to search for a logical solution.
Arwydau stood up on her ledge, walked over to its edge and peered over into the sheer drop below. Her long red hair floated out around her as if stirred by a gentle breeze. She smiled smugly at the Living human boy before stepping into the void.
Her body shot downwards giving the impression that she would meet with certain death on the jagged rocks beneath.
The shock and horror on the Living human boy’s face was both priceless and pleasurable to her!
Mid-flight, Arwydau stopped suddenly in disbelief. Despite all that he had witnessed so far, she sensed that the Living human boy was still fool enough to wish to save her.
For a moment Arwydau considered pulling him to his death and then she sensed something far more tempting about him. Arwydau rose up to meet him.
When she arrived on the granite ledge, he was trembling with fear and yet he stood his ground, finding a courage within which Arwydau admired greatly.
“What...who are you?” he asked, raising a hand to shield his eyes against the sunshine bursting through the trees and striving to get a closer look at her. The silver blue tones of his irises stood out dramatically against the greys of the granite rocks behind him and the assorted greens of the summer foliage all around.
Arwydau moved closer towards him, pushing him effortless until his back was against the hillside and his breathing was raised. Slowly and leisurely, she leaned the length of her body against his. Her nipples tightened as his large, mesmerised pupils opened wider.
The Living human boy licked his dry lips in order to speak. Arwydau refused to give him the chance. Her soft, plum lips pressed passionately and urgently into his, her tongue flicked into his mouth to taste him.
“I’m Stanley,” he exhaled breathlessly quite some time later. He reached out to gather a handful of Arwydau’s hair.
Arwydau liked this Stanley. She might let him live -– for now.
Stanley Thomas Birch tossed and turned. He thumped the white feather pillow under his head then threw it out of the bed where it landed with a thud next to his recent scribblings -- and the pillow he had thrown earlier.
Damn that dream! Always the same one! Night after night after night! It was driving him insane.
Stanley got out of bed and walked over to the bedroom window half asleep. He had no idea why the dream persisted. In the early morning light of the garden below, he noticed a shadow fall across the nearest flower bed and then a small cloud of what looked like gold dust blew up and tapped against the window. His mind fought to decipher what was happening.
Stanley knew that there was some meaning to what he was experiencing, he just could not figure out what it was at the moment. He opened the window; the floor-length heavy lace curtain billowed and the room was filled with a chill.
Suddenly, he felt an urgent need to write, to put all the thoughts spinning around in his head down on paper. As his mind wandered through a chaotic stream of thoughts, tinkling laughter abruptly filled the room. Startled, he turned and let his eyes slide along the voluptuous young woman lying languidly on his bed. Her skin appeared to be whiter than the sheets beneath and had a luminance somewhat similar to mother-of-pearl. Her wild red hair cascaded over her shoulders and way beyond her waist.
The laughter echoed again. Stanley was sure it was coming from the woman and yet her lips remained firmly closed like two fat caterpillars lying one upon the other. He was both attracted and repulsed at the same time.
She patted the bed beside her. “Come, boy,” she said enticingly, again with no movement from her lips.
Stanley ran a worried hand through his thick brown head of hair and frowned.
“I’m not a boy,” he answered louder than he had intended. “I’m a man,” he continued in a quieter tone.
She laughed again. Louder and shriller this time. The caterpillars stirred and parted.
“Even should you live to be a hundred, you will still be a babe compared to me,” she stated flatly and again caressed the bed beside her.
Stanley felt himself walking forwards. His body was obeying her command yet part of his mind managed to rebel and remained within his control. He wanted to discover who she was and how she had entered his bedroom. Try as he might, he was unable to find the strength to ask the questions.
He did not think it was in his best interests to lessen the distance between them. In fact, he wanted desperately to increase it. His mind screamed at him to run but his body continued to propel forward.
“That’s better,” the caterpillars purred against his ear as he sat down on the large double bed. Stanley moved his head away from the caterpillars and gazed directly into the woman’s hard amber eyes. He melted -– all of him -– into her. His lips sought out her flesh, his hands covered every inch, his mind drank in every iota of knowledge that she divulged to him.
The last thing Stanley remembered was the veil of gold dust covering the sheets and her sighs ringing in his ears.
Labels: 1907, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Stanley, Web Fiction
|posted by Miladysa @ 21:40
What ever man wants. And dreads!
Rofl Not many are brave enough to admit that Charles :)
Whew!! I need a cup of wine ... err, tea! ;D That was fabulous! I love the idea of her magic keeping his feet sure and the roots deep, and the description of her hair floating in waves, the shift to adult Stanley and all the rich descriptions. You are so good at this! :)