Warning: 18+
This piece was really hard for me to find suitable words fitting its vibe, so I hope you would pardon my mistakes. Thank you all!
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He usually comes at late night. Once every couple of days, since he used to work for morning shift, on off-days he would prefer to sleep until the shift time. Anytime he comes, he stays awake for the whole night, hovering beside his muse’s figure. It feels like the white butterflies fluttering around, caressing her youthful complexion. She just giggled refusing the tickles, meanwhile tremulously tightening him in the endless pleasurable instancy of a jiff.
It has been 10 years, he is still so repeated at his coming nights, yet this lately he comes everyday. She also continues writing letters, it is written down with her constant saudade-de-ele, her lasting longing for their reunion, so he passes by at a constant pace. But currently she seems to be exhausted, which is resulting in her being unaware of his arrivals. She keeps falling asleep on the wooden table that has been worn out as the flow of time. He sometimes gives the secret look at the delicate wordlines on the classic discolored piece of paper, although the smell is faintly rusty, it still remains the aftertaste of those two’ first kiss so that neither he nor her can help not loving it. He came again tonight, lying side-to-side next to his beloved on her letters-writing-wooden-table-alike worn-out bed.
He kissed her soft lips in the same way he has done every time, those petals trembled silently while her eyes were still locked. Wind breezed through the unclosed windows she had forgotten, she got a bit absent-minded about such the trivials lately. Her body moved nigh to him as her habit, even though it is in the sound slumber, in order to let him embrace completely the rose fragrance of her silky hair - the shampoo’s scent he bought her in the old days. He had no idea whether she would like it, but throughout a decade, the cover of it may change, however, her hair’s fragrance has not.
His hands traced on her arms, approached hard on her fleshy breasts and increased the heat all over her physique. Despite that, her slumber kept going, he chuckled before laying a smooch on her blushing rosy. The naughty fingers, played devilishly under her clothes. The disquiet, the rejoicing, the burning and arousing touches, she squeezed him compactly in the unconsciousness of a dreamland with his echoing smooches on her nape. He got drunk upon her like how he had done in 10 years backwards, teetering silhouettes overshadowed the wall as they were melting into each other, at the same time as someone’s teary eye.
The east glowed up in dawn, sunshine slipped over the small door gaps which brightened her face. The woman’s eyelids dimmed, gave an overlook over the chamber, then stared back at the sweating skin in spite of the last night strongly functioning air-conditioner. He had gone. One more time without waiting for her to wake up. Stepping out the balcony, she watered the rose vase filled with almost blooming sprouts, and she missed him. She has not met him for too long, if yes only met the touches from him. That is it. She could not make sure that was him, since she was sleeping back then. She hoped so, nevertheless. Not to give attention for seconds, she was startled by realizing the vase was covered in water, consequently she hung it higher to take in the sunlight. Why did not he come so that she could have seen him once? She missed him too much, as the evenly withering state of mind. What was the reason he did not come to see her? Was he yet busy after going to that far away place?
She took off her nightgown, turned on the shower and dove her head into the fresh streaming water. There was no way to stop herself from thinking of him, her body got so flamed that her canthus reddened and overflew.
“I will be back soon.”
He was the worst liar.
Who knows, he might have told the truth, but if a truth did not happen then was it different from a lie?
She wished to be deadly “ill” so he would come to take care of her. But she just could not, thanks to a lot of things that need to be done, a lot of people to look after, which turned her wish into an illusory one.
Having put on some makeup, she left her 20th floor apartment in neglect not to return the vase back. Workaday life without him sweeps so fast as it is supposed to do, office, colleagues, after and after drinking parties, eventually arrives her lonesome room in extreme insobriety. At first, she stumbled about every possible corner and got bruises all over. Not until now has she been used to it. Neatly arranging the entrance to make it easy for her drunkenness not to be interrupted, she went straight to the messy bed on which she abandoned the cleaning this morning. Right after her sight had already come over the balcony, oh the perished rose under the scorching daylight.
Through the fermenting view, the chamber became blurred within the moonshine. On the small drawer nearby the bed was her morning letter, while inside it were tons of creasy old ones with the name of the sender barely. The woman glanced at it in boredom, tonight she had not drunk enough to sleep, she could just feel her headache as someone hammered into her brain. And then, her heart gripped in pain. She mumbled something, the broken words fell down and floated in the air, the space scented with alcohol’s smell and acerbic gauntness. Air-conditioner was running calmly, her memory was finding a way back to the old days in the meantime, the promise land of them both that she could still reminisce about. She pursued on the still trail dimming in the fragile butterflies reflecting the ivory moonlight. Slow and then fast, we could have all consumed that someone was chasing her, or was it her who was chasing for someone? Those wings started the handful hovering game, as they were laughing at her urgency.
Why?
Why are things just moving bit by bit?
Why only her had to trace along with all of her hurry at that vague sphere?
Even if the world turns a bit more slowly and she runs a bit much faster,
Where is he amongst those distant ethers?
Her ears tingled, despair spread out over her depths. The favorite wings of her were being shattered and buried beneath the abyss-esque darkest ground.
Night air remained tranquil, no matter how many butterflies had gone back to dust, it did not show any mercy to the mesmerizing beings made by the heavenly spirits. There was her the only one screaming so much that her throat ached and trying to catch the glowing creatures, in thought it was without any disturbance, they flew towards her steadily,
notwithstanding they would ultimately die of those hands once had adored them.
“...” She opened the eyelashes which were closing firmly, her body was extremely hot, dull and lasting feeling as she had just finished jogging. On her cheeks were the familiar bitterly salty flavor of teardrops,
and the fresh mint scent of his skin,
that she thought she had already let it slip off of her mind on a random day.
Speechless.
He was there. Front of her. That countenance, those lips, those eyes lines. That was him,
wasn’t it?
She stared bewilderedly, or else she was so drunk? He lied next to her, his arms were around her waist, while her forehead was laying on his chest. The man’s breath fondled her epidermis, the type of breath which dragged her into her first hunt for physical passion on that brawny figure. Just little did she think, her heart had soon shattered piece to piece, piercing immensely those edged scatters on her grievous core, oozing slowly the blood as scarlet as the lipstick she has often used. Fluid overflew, covered him over, dyed his moonlight bright shape with the permanent waiting. Gradually, the letter not yet being stored in the drawer was blended into that vermelho brilhante, of which the ink faded and then vanished totally. He disappeared along with it, inside the sea of blood, poured out from her deepest place. Not until she realized herself withering in account for that blood loss did she notice the torn-out wings of butterflies dispersing on the rouge puddle which was turning to a darker tone. They shaped the lines of the love having left her for a long while, clearly and perfectly like how his promise dropped 2 years ago, in the death of daylight when white wings played around his flesh and bones which were rotting into soil, unhurriedly.
And she burst.
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Painting was created by me.
My original Vietnamese version here: https://www.wattpad.com/1229758191-t%E1%BA%A3n-v%C4%83n-t%E1%BB%95ng-h%E1%BB%A3p-%C4%91a-th%E1%BB%83-lo%E1%BA%A1i-%C4%91%C3%AAm-anh-v%C3%A0-b%C6%B0%C6%A1m-b%C6%B0%E1%BB%9Bm
Very nice to see you here again, @sapphireissafy,
As I read this the sense of longing reminded me of an autobiography (The Gossamer Years, kagerō nikki) I read years ago by a woman known only as Michitsuna's mother. The style is not the same. The story is not the same. But the existence the woman lives, behind a veil of longing and memory, that is the same. You draw us behind that veil.
Your writing is extraordinary.
I would check out the link later, I am so excited for your comments honestly!
Thank you for returning and writing for us again. This story, as was true of your first, suspends us in an uncertain consciousness. You draw us into this gossamer reality slowly. She drinks herself insensible so she can experience what is gone. We are not sure at the end if her lover has died because mischief. Whatever the cause, she is consumed with memory and an unendurable sense of loss.
You are correct to caution us about 18+. We do not curate stories that are sexually explicit or explicitly violent. However, you tread the line carefully. You show great sensitivity. Just a word for the future.
This story is beautiful, evocative and brilliantly written. Thank you. We encourage our authors to read and comment on the work of others in the community. That feedback is valuable to a writer.
Write for us again, please.
(Your art is wonderful)
What an honour for me. Thank you so much for the comment, I definitely would be back soon with another fiction!
Moreover, to answer your wondering about whether her lover has died or not, yes he has. However, in my culture, we believe that the dead could get back to world through insects to meet their families or anything they still have the regret towards. I combined that belief with my interest in butterflies, which resulted in the "white butterflies" embodiment for the man to reunite with his woman.
This is exceptional, one could feel the intensity as the story moved on. I'm truly grateful to get to read such freely. Thanks for sharing.
Uh hmm... I think you and I have very different definitions of 18+ stories lol, because this was fantastically beautiful!
From the way you draw in your readers, to the sheet imagery you create with your words... Beautiful!🤍
Lol, this is such a silly yet endearing statement. I'mma start saying it to my girlfriend now actually
"Hey babe?... Want some epidermis kisses? :)"
Lol, don't mind me😅 Cheers!
Edit: Also, love the illustration! It was one of the main reasons I clicked this post in fact!
I guess so XD I am really into writing 18+ element in my fictions, but I avoid making it explicit. If you'd love to have a more wonderful view of it, please expect for my further creations 💕
Aw that's so sweet of you. Well don't mind doing silly loving statements to your love one, I believe it worths it XD
Oh but of course. I'd give you a quick follow and add some of your stuff to my bookmark so I can read later. Sounds good!
Lol, it's worth it alright. But not like that I'm sure. Knowing Claire, I'd get a boot right to the face if I said that.
I didn’t want it to end. I just wanted to keep on reading. This is really great
Aww that's so sweet of you 💕 I hope you would keep on supporting me in my further creations if you are interested
Of course.
I just followed you right away so that I won’t miss any new post
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Your story has been chosen as one of the best stories of the week and is part of the 75th Magazine of The Ink Well.Congratulations, @sapphireissafy !
https://peakd.com/hive-170798/@theinkwell/the-ink-well-highlights-magazine-75
Thank you!!!!