A story about pure passion
I met her when I was young. Before her, there was no one. I was all alone.
She was cute and sweet. But I was young. So I didn't see the dark side of her.
I wanted to be a part of her life.
Her hair was short and her eyes bright.
Her secrets and stories reached inside the recesses of my mind and tugged gently at my curiosity.
I wondered what it was about her that drew me in.
Finally, she showed me what she could do, what she had done in the past. She showed me that magical dances, like moths around a flame, that she had done with others.
I saw her as a young girl that was my age but that was only becuase that's all I knew about her.
I wanted to do it, I wanted to do what others had done.
She warned me that it wouldn't be easy but I told her that I wanted to.
So she taught me. She took me in and we danced in front of my grade four. It was magical. It was nothing like what she had done before but it was the best I could manage.
We got top of the class.
I was acknowledged for how well we worked together, our bodies working in smooth unison.
But my moment came and went.
My blood moon was gone and the world no longer waited for me.
Now we were as far apart as the distance between God and David's fingers.
I moved on and grew up, finding new friends.
I barely thought about her. I got a girlfriend and the world was different.
But then I had to leave these friends. I was alone. I had no one.
And then she reappeared and I began to see that she wasn't as young as I was, instead she was as old as the numbers of time itself.
I wanted her back, she was different from what I had remembered.
Her hair was long, dark and twirling. Time and mystery itself swirled around her in a throbbing aura that was as captivating as every story that time had created.
Her eyes were deeper than all the minds of the greatest creators. The colours in them were enticing, her stare intoxicating.
We were both older and because of it she tapped into my new hormonal feelings, I really realised my need for her to be close to me.
But she didn't want me back straight away.
She wanted me to prove myself. She'd had others and she wasn't going to take me back straight away.
I practiced, trying to get back to her.
I knew that our dance would be different, but finally she allowed me back.
But we went further than dance. I had a desire. I wanted her in my hands, I wanted to strip her of her secrets, manipulate her body how I saw fit.
I wanted my hands to grope at that aura, feeling the time and mysteries beneath my fingers.
Finally I got it. I got her and I did with her an electrifying deed, I showed her all the things that I could do, the ecstacy I could give her, no longer the moths but the flame itself, twisting and turning against each other and burning away at the wick that was reality. After we did it, we were frantic to do it again.
Her and I soon came to be simultaneously mentioned. Her name and mine going hand in hand.
Nearly every night we would rush of to my room, hormones going wild to continue with our electrifying deeds, me stripping her of her aura and secrets once again.