Beneath gathering clouds, dainty white flowers became a constellation, a galaxy reflecting the hidden skies. Thickening gunmetal and onyx enveloped twilight, chasing, braiding overhead. Barely visible above towering branches and swaying leaves.
Casting my eyes ahead, I considered the path vanishing into the deep; moss soft below my bare feet. There was static in the air; a delicate caress over my limbs. A promise whispered. Echoed in the steady breath of the forest, the gentle lullaby of birdsong, the cry of an owl.
A low growl of thunder rolled through the pearlescent luminosity of the sky. Encroaching night enhanced the shadows; gnarled boughs cloaking me the further I journeyed along the worn trail. Entwined trees drowned remnants of moonlight; sparse spears creating sparks across the maws of blooms retiring for slumber.
Fragrance drifting, wraiths on the balmy current.
The pressure of discovery clung to me, carving through my mind and conjuring a multitude of possible escapes, of possible entrapment. We were forever linked, in this life and the next, but that did not prevent the chill from wrapping my bones, from hinting at the peril of error.
It would only take one mistake.
I tipped my face to the first drops of rain. Lips parting and eyes reverent. I inhaled the divinity caressing my skin. The cascade increasing, a melody discordant and broken by the branches, by the leaves, by the canopy shrouding me.
A blanket suffocating but familiar.
Below the blurring silhouette, I spun; greedy eyes absorbing my surroundings for any evidence of him. I could sense he was there.
Hidden.
Waiting.
The growing web of shadow of benefit to us both, even as my sight acclimatised to the night. Even as I mapped the pointed edges of twigs reaching for the heavens, as the leaves accepted the deluge dripping over their fractal rim.
This was a dance which I knew well. One I knew would end in blood. In capitulation. In release. The thought of capture bringing a catch to my breath, a surge to my heart, a kick within every synapse. Every cell. Such visions concentrically spiralling through my body and beyond, pulsing through the undergrowth. Through the trees.
A new silence descended.
Time measured only in gaps. In intention. In hope.
My eyes narrowed, catching the smallest glint amongst the laced shades of verdant foliage. Almost imagined. Gloved fingers moving, returning behind the worn bark of a wide tree.
I swallowed.
He was close.
Too close.
My breath fractured, quickened. Each slow rivulet tracing my flesh a reminder of what may come next. The descent soaking into the fibres of my dress, coating me in slick warmth.
Another warning moan of thunder shook the woods, bringing a cascade over me. Over us. His rapid dart from one tree to another observed, revealed, in the shifting moonlight. The breeze in my favour, I saw his dark shape scramble for cover.
I wondered if he had witnessed me amongst the gloom.
Leaning into the solid bark, the rough edges grated and flaked. Sticking to the damp skin bared beyond the confines of cotton. I raked my fingers through my hair; strands long and clinging. The arc of my neck and closing of my eyes allowing me to focus. To track. To determine where he would move next.
For while the woods were a maze, this crucible was our playground, our territory, our innocent land. Each step a prayer, each turn a possible victory. By day, under the omniscient glare of sunlight, the ever-changing forest was an embrace. By night, the false certainty of the path was a warning.
A risk.
There was more than one turn either of us could take.
Twisting, I left my refuge. The night would deliver me to the house, I was certain. The only question was when.
How.
Bound or free.
I knew my preferred outcome to this game. But I was unsure if he would play by my rules. His careless step affirming I may have a chance. The crack of a fallen twig and skid of stone redirecting my strides, confidence providing me with purpose.
With conviction.
Until a sharp scratch sensually skipped over my spine. My mouth sealed, silent. Refusing to bow to his attempt at dominance even as the pain scored my skin. A series of ciphers, a bloom of crimson infusing, diluting in the downpour.
My body ached.
I’d given him opportunity.
And I hated myself for it.
Embedded in the trunk behind me was evidence of his success, his conviction in his strength. His power. That I would become a meek witness to his empyrean reach; his pursuit something which had delivered both treat and threat.
My fingers brushed my nape, feeling the heat of blood. The pads smearing it over my skin, dragging it into a ruby necklace, before bringing them to my full lips. Licking the coppery taste with a deliberate and controlled swirl of my tongue.
The groan to my left brought a wicked smile to my mouth, created a glint to brighten my gaze. With a violet strike of lightning in the distance, I was radiant. Snowy limbs marked with arcane black, a circlet of running blood painting my décolletage, my long obsidian dress ebbing in the night’s breeze. My hair a corona dancing in time with the erratic inhales I drew into my lungs.
He hesitated.
Captivated.
His blade shining in the fading brightness, the silvern moonlight oppressed by returning cloud and knitting boughs.
I dropped my hand to my thigh, finding the slit in the fabric instinctively. There was no descent to my focus, my eyes hooked into his and coaxing him, daring him, to hurl another knife in my direction. Begging him to take what he believed was his. What he had sought in the months leading to this moment.
In the unspoken war which had escalated the tension between us with deliberate glances of skin on skin, with opportunistic gazes and seductive words. The pursuit begun in the instant of our first meeting, and this inevitable chase merely a part of the game. One battle, one strategic manoeuvring of our bodies, one challenge to determine the course of the next stage in our inevitable collision.
The curving karambit was secure, comfortable, as it settled in my palm. Smooth yew nestled against my flesh as the vicious blade shone in sporadic rays cast from above. A broken descent, liminal and prismatic.
We waited.
Each breath stolen.
Around us, even the rain seemed to stop. The silence swelling into a crescendo which demanded resolution.
I needed him to move.
To strike again. To attack.
To obey.
My patience splintered, my knife gripped more firmly. The vow I had taken about to be broken. My voice low, commanding, ‘Run.’
With thanks to the Nocturnal Narrator, who provided the prompt for this piece: obsession, psychological thriller, and a seemingly innocuous forest. 🖤
this is absolutely astounding! the imagery alone is intensely moving. but you manage to write it in a way that flawlessly immerses the reader. bravo
Jeffrey would be pleased—captivating!