Didn’t win but never mind

I entered the following in the Authonomy competition- The winning story was excellent and congratulations are due to Stacey Taylor and her story.

Anyway before this little things gets put to the back of the cupboard I thought it could have its day on here:-


It started with a kiss, which was when the reality of it “kicked in” as they say.  She bent her head, her hair all sweaty and tangled from what had gone before. Her neck and shoulders were bare, gleaming with moisture in the harsh light.  Her hands were infinitely gentle so fine and womanly.

The tiny flowers on the nightgown were rather unlike her, normally she goes for silk and lace or the other end of the spectrum, daft T’s and recently my own shirts which make her look unbelievably vulnerable and sexy even though that felt wrong somehow.

I don’t remember any noise, not after the hullaballoo that had gone before. It was calm and quiet and exquisitely holy.  For those few moments there was nobody else in the world just a tiny micro-universe closeted and private and ours alone.

After that first kiss, hers, it was my turn.  I was worried about getting it right.  I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do, how to handle it.  In the end it just happened as natural as breathing.  I will never forget the perfume of that kiss, if I close my eyes I can conjure it up still.  The softness of skin on skin, the glimpse of feathery eyelashes laying against the swell of a cheek as I bent forward, it’s all so very vivid still, more a recurrent happening than a memory.

The world was stilled, the only reality was us there together, a unit, complete and perfect.  After the kiss I lifted my head and her face glowed, with pride and joy and something else deep and almost otherworldly.

Sometimes in the night we are both so tired that we can barely speak, we are at our wits end frightened and ignorant and scared and we don’t know whether we’re getting it right.   Sometimes in the mornings we stand outside his door listening for the sound of him breathing or shifting in the cot.  We listen and wait scared to go in because he has slept longer than usual and we think the unthinkable. Sometimes we wonder why, why did we forfeit our ease and independence for this red-faced howling tyrant and at times like that when it all seems too hard I look deep inside and I remember that quiet holy moment when it all started, with a kiss.


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Filed under Serials, Shorts and Stuff

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