My Love

My Love

I have compared thee, O my love,
     To a flock of seagulls on the shore,
Stoically standing against the wind
     Only to rise up in alarm
Whenever I try to be near you.

Your eyes are to me, the eyes of the raptor.
     They stare unblinkingly
Into someone else's distance,
     Awaiting elusive prey
Far beyond my sight.

Your broad shoulders, like eagle's wings,
     Lifting you far into the sky,
To float and soar high above me,
     Always out of reach.

I compare thy heart, my love,
    To the tiny robin
Who flits and hops about my garden,
     Greedily tasting all I have to offer
And fericiously attacking all who come to call.

Bearskin

This one's for St. Valentine.  But weird.

     Bearskin

It is white in the land, and cold. The forest is dark and all the gentle animals who have not left for the warmer, seductive lands in the South, are either hiding in caves, or deep under the ground, where all God-fearing creatures should be. In the villages, the people stay hidden, too, warm and safe beside their fires, only ever scurrying out when there is no choice, to find more wood, or perhaps to creep into the edge of the dark, treacherous forest to hunt for a morsel of meat to fill their hollow bellies.

It was the boy's turn to do his duty by his Grandfather who lived alone in the deepest part of the forest, only ventured to in the Spring and Summer, unless the bitter months drew out, as they were this long, long Winter. The wind howled around the chimneys as the boy wound his bear-skin cloak around his lithe and innocent form. He carefully wrapped the still-warm, freshly baked loaves of bread in the blood red cloth his mother had given him, and placed the parcel in his satchel, together with the small cask of wine, essential foodstuffs to ward off the bitter winter's chill.

Before he began his journey, the boy's mother handed him the long bladed knife once used for skinning the great Black Bear whose hide he wore. The boy slipped the knife into its sheath and, embracing his mother, turned and left the cottage to begin his journey through the pure white landscape to his Grandfather's house.

The forest became quieter and quieter as he trudged. No sound, not even his footsteps broke the virginal membrane of silence in his ears. He had walked for perhaps an hour when he saw the girl. She came from nowhere. One moment he looked up from the snow in front of his feet, and she was there. He had noticed no footprints, just the eternally smooth, white blanket covering the land.

The girl was naked, her jet black hair falling in seductive ripples the length of her mottled blue and white-skinned back, her body swaying with the rhythm of her stride as she walked just ahead of him. As she turned to look at him, he caught a glimpse of her nipples, erect with the cold. A flood of emotions rushed through the boy's body. He had never seen a woman naked before. It never occurred to him how cold she must be as he felt the heat of desire pumping through his veins. He just knew that he had to have her, to touch her skin, to caress the hair, to feel her nakedness against his own young body. He called out to her and she turned again and smiled. How red were her lips, full of the promise he had never experienced. She was moving too fast, away from him, as he broke into a run, realising fleetingly, but not caring, that the familiar part of the forest was long ago left behind.

At last in a clearing, she stopped and turned to me, opening her arms, with a welcoming look in her eye. I was entranced with the beauty of her nakedness, her black hair flowing over the curves of her breasts, her nipples inviting me to her, the same blood red of her lips, in contrast to the whiteness of her skin. I drank greedily of the sight. Before I had taken more than a step towards her, I see that there other other women here, almost blinding me with their voluptuous bodies. I long to touch them, to feel and taste them, but they are always tantalizingly just beyond my reach. At times I am close enough to smell the muskiness of their bodies, and know that they desire me just as much as I want them.

In my frantic dance, I notice the bread tumble out from my satchel, still half wrapped in the blood red cloth. As it lands in the snow, some of the women break away from the dance, and ripping the cloth, devour the bread in a frenzy of hunger sated at last. The wine cask falls too, crashing to the ground, the soft snow breaking its fall, the stopper bursts forth and the wine bleeds into the pure white snow, the stain spreading ever outwards.

The first girl is taking my hand, guiding me to the centre of the clearing. I see nothing now but her perfect body, knowing that I will soon be fulfilled. I feel hands gently undressing me, caressing me into a state of full arousal as my Beauty lies on the altar, her hair flowing down like black water to the snow-covered ground, her legs long and inviting, her thighs white and firm as she lies willing me on to lie with her. I am helped on to the altar and can wait no longer. I cannot even see the women surrounding us, my eyes are blind to anything but desire.

A knife flashed and a roar filled my ears. The pure skin of the girl became mottled. Hair - no! Rough fur was growing across her perfect breasts. Her face was changing, blurring. Her seductive lips drawn back to reveal drooling teeth and tongue, her tiny nose thrusting forth into a wet, black snout. The arms around me growing stronger now, her claws tearing into my back. As I arched my back in pain and ecstasy the bear-skin cloak which was so carefully taken from me earlier is once again wrapped around my form. As I reach the inevitable climax, my seed bursts forth into the willing belly of the Beauty, I realise I am fusing with a Great Black Bear. Part of my mind is fighting against this, recoiling in horror, but I know deep inside myself that I am fulfilling a terrible destiny.

Still, I try to break away. Wildly looking around the clearing, I see the women have all gone. There is just myself and my terrible bride.

I raise myself up on my rear legs and roar from the depths of my soul.

Caught in the Web Chapter 47

This chapter may upset some readers, so apologies.  You can purchase Caught in the Web from Amazon either as an Ebook for Kindle, or as a paperback.  It is also available from bookstores and Fareham Museum.  Over a thousand copies have been sold to date.

Chapter Forty-seven

Karen tried not to sleep. She kept thinking about what Peter had said at the table. By the time he came to bed her mind was in a turmoil. She had managed to get through the evening without giving him the chance to drug her but wondered how long it could last.

Peter sat on the edge of the bed. In one hand he held a glass of water. He passed it to her.

‘It’s time we stopped all this pussy-footing around,’ he said. ‘I’ve brought you your tablets, which you will take, my darling, but not before I’ve finished with you.’

Karen froze.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘What I should have done weeks ago,’ he said. ‘Maybe if I had, you wouldn’t be pregnant with someone else’s kid.’ He placed the water on the bedside table and pulled his t-shirt over his head.

‘Are you going to rape me now?’ Karen’s voice broke.

Peter laughed, undoing his trousers. He turned to her. ‘It’s not rape, you silly girl. Just taking what I’m entitled to.’ He stepped out of his trousers, peeled off his underpants and got into bed beside her. Karen shivered, pulling away from him to the other side of the bed.

‘You can’t force me,’ she began. ‘Please, Peter. I don’t want to do this.’

‘Of course you do.’ He was stroking her leg beneath her nightdress, his hand rough against her skin. She felt herself shrinking further away from him.

‘Kiss me.’ Peter’s face loomed over hers, his mouth was wet and sour with whiskey. Karen tried not to gag as he kissed her lips, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth. He moved away again.

‘There, you see. You do like it don’t you?’ His hand was at the top of her leg now, the other hand forcing her nightdress high up over her breasts.

‘Get off me!’ Karen was pleading now. ‘Please, don’t do this.’ She struggled under the weight of his body as he pushed her legs apart. He rose up above her, looking down at her nakedness. ‘I love it when you’re feisty,’ he laughed. ‘We should do this more often.’

‘You bastard!’ Karen shouted, desperate to make him stop. ‘Get off!’ She struggled, pushing him away.

‘Oh, yes, do that,’ he said. ‘You’re making me really horny. I like a fight,’ he groaned as he reached down and forced his fingers into Karen. She screamed in pain.

He laughed again, pulled his fingers out, rolled back on top of her and thrust his penis into her.

‘You’re hurting me,’ Karen sobbed, but he wasn’t listening any more.

She knew then that the only way to get through this was to detach herself from it. She felt herself floating, the pain between her legs fading into a numbness. She seemed to be watching the scene from a point somewhere above them, the unreality of what was happening her only defence. Who was this grunting animal forcing himself on this young woman? Who was the young woman? Karen watched in horror, wondering why it had come to this and how she could get through it all. She watched as he reached his climax, rolled off her and lay on his back snoring. She watched the young woman’s body go limp and watched herself sobbing silently beside him.

Gradually Karen felt herself in her own body again, sore and angry, but with something like a faint hope in her mind.

He was asleep. Maybe she could get away now.

Almost as if he’d read her mind, he woke up with a start.

‘You thought I’d gone to sleep,’ he accused, sitting up and looking down at her.

Karen reached under her pillow for a tissue and wiped her nose.

‘It’s no good turning on the tears. You know you enjoyed it as much as me,’ he said. ‘Now, it’s time for your pills.’ He reached for the glass of water and the dreaded tablets. He turned and smiled at her, holding them out to her. ‘Sit up,’ he ordered.

Deciding that it would be best to go along with what he wanted, Karen pulled herself up to a sitting position and took the pills. He watched her as she put them on her tongue, then pushed the glass of water into her hand.

‘Swallow them,’ he said.

Karen remembered the patients on the ward and how they’d sometimes hidden pills in their cheeks but realised that it was harder than it looked.

‘Come on, drink the water,’ he insisted. ‘Wash them down properly.’

Karen took a sip of water.

‘That’s not enough,’ he said. ‘Have a proper drink.’

He watched as she drank the whole glass.

‘Now open your mouth.’

Karen opened her mouth.

‘Under the tongue,’ he said.

Karen lifted her tongue to show that the pills had gone.

‘Good girl,’ he smiled as he pushed back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed.

‘Where are you going?’ Karen asked.

‘Only to the bathroom. Don’t worry I’m not going to leave you on your own tonight,’ he said. ‘I’m already feeling horny again, just thinking about it.’

Karen’s heart sank at the thought. As soon as he’d left the room, she hooked the half-dissolved pills from the side of her mouth and stuffed them inside her pillow case.

Peter was back within minutes. He climbed back into bed and reached for Karen. She tried to pretend she was asleep, but he didn’t seem to care whether she was awake or not.

‘Come on, Karen,’ he said. ‘Show me what a good wife you can be.’

‘I’m tired,’ she complained. ‘It’s the pills.’

‘Don’t give me excuses,’ he said. ‘They don’t work that quickly.’

Karen felt sick but knew he would never give up until she did what he wanted. Sighing, she rolled over on top of him and pushed his penis into her, hoping that it would be over as quickly as possible.

‘Show me you’re enjoying it then,’ he said.

Karen started to moan in his ear and felt him getting harder inside her, until at last he reached his climax with a groan of ecstasy. Karen lay still for a moment, then slid off him onto her side of the bed, grateful that it was over at last.

‘You could at least have said you loved me,’ Peter complained. Karen said nothing.

‘Well?’ Peter said again.

‘I love you,’ Karen whispered but she only heard the soft sound of his snoring in answer.