Short Story - The Clouds above the Mist: Chapter 4

A dream. Flashback. Déjà vu. Nocturnal memories. Flickering pages of a book, or milliseconds of cut scenes from a movie I have seen banded together.

Confusing. Untraceable. Captivating.

I feel her against my skin. Warm. Comfortable. Sweet. My fingertips stroke her thighs as she lies on her side, facing the other way. Caressing. I want to be hard on her. Rough. It takes every atom in me to not overpower her. Grab her. See pink marks of where I claw at her skin, clutch her thighs. Push her face down on the pillow. Fill her. Hear her moan. Scream. I don’t.

My hand cups her breast. The insides of my fingers toying with the nipple. Circling the hardening tip with my thumb. She breathes louder. I flick her long dark brown hair from her shoulders to the back, revealing her face. My mouth is on her neck, sucking at the veins making their way down to her body. I turn her around, pull her legs up, grab together her wrists above her head, her elbows besides her forehead, forcing her arms over and behind. The back of her knees on my shoulders, her feet behind my neck. I push in.

The movie fast forwards, millisecond by millisecond. She’s standing against the wall, her knees bent. Moaning, her body shivers, gasping for air as she inhales through gritted teeth. I have my hands wrapped around her from the back. I hear the sound of my thighs hit the back of hers with force, crushing her, again and again.

The pages from the book turn. I open my eyes, slowly, trying to blink. I see two people looking at me with concern.

“He’s fine.” The voice is familiar. Strong.

“Thank God”. A woman sighs.

My eyes close. I drift again.

It’s freezing cold. I see the white of winter covering every bit of the garden I’m standing in. The trees seem surreal. Engulfed in the white of snow. Bits and pieces of dark brown branches pop out to breathe in the cold air, trying to escape the damning snow which consumes the world, my world.

I hear my childhood buddy yelling at me, beckoning me to see something that excites him. I walk towards where he’s standing, beneath a tree that is completely consumed by the deadly white of today. The sound of my boots pushing down on the ground is unnerving. I crush the hardened snow with every step, leaving behind a trail of tiny footsteps, my rubber boots successfully keeping the white out.

I look over his shoulder. It’s an animal. Grey and white stripes on its belly facing the sky. It’s tail covered with snow. Mouth gaping wide open. Frozen and filled with the white. Eyes, staring back at us. Confused. Still in shock. Still looking at the sky, calling for her higher power.

My friend starts throwing snow at the body, burying the cat. I join him and finish. Clasp my hands together, take off the red woolen gloves my mother had bought for me, turn around, and walk away.

My eyes force open. I look at the sofa that I lay on. I have never seen this one before. It’s white like snow. New. Polished.

The room is bigger than most I've seen. I see expensive furniture. Gleaming wooden floor. Fluorescent lamps.

I hear footsteps coming closer. Someone walks in. Its’ her from the book and the movie. She’s real.

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Images: Google.