So after a hiatus for us to write for NaNo…Jeff’s Blues Buster is back over at The Tsuruoka Files. The tune we’re writing to is ‘Heavy in your Arms’ Florence and The Machine…and I’m keen to get back in to some flash fiction!
Water Crown by Lisa Shambrook (please do not use without permission)
Heavy in your Arms
The day I drowned, I gazed at his hands and I grasped his arms, strong and veined, and covered with dark, downy hair. His hands were smooth, soft and firm. I gazed into his eyes, ice blue and deep, and I drowned in their depth.
I gazed at his lips. He drew me close, devouring my mouth with words, whispered words of love, of adoration and lust. I drowned as he pressed his mouth to mine and inched his tongue past my teeth. Fire burned, smouldering in my belly, and rising with every prickle on my pale skin.
His breath murmured in my hair, his zephyr of longing entwining every lock, and my fingers touched the crown on my head, a circlet of threaded silver and diamond dewdrops.
His hands, those strong hands, rested on my back, and his lips nibbled my neck, and I succumbed.
* * *
The sun shone down in rays of gold, tickling my burning skin, and he chuckled at my naivety. He stood and beckoned down by the water’s edge, and blushing in my exposure I stepped into the river. Cool water lapped at my feet and my legs, and I smiled, nervously, as he took my hand. My fingers shot to my head, as the circlet slipped, insecure in my tangled, golden tresses.
I gazed at him, stood before me, a man in every way, and laughed as the sun glistened against the jewelled crown atop his unruly mop of curls. His laughter matched the gurgling brook, and he took me in his arms, water breaking gently at our waists.
I didn’t expect his sudden move, his firm grip and the icy fear that enveloped me beneath the water. My eyes were lost in the murky depths of swirling river, weed entwining my feet, and hands, those strong hands, holding me beneath the surface. I opened my mouth in pain as the crown entangled in my hair was divorced from my head. I gripped his arms, my hands moving up and down his flexing muscles, until my hands fell loose and I drowned for the second time that day.
I watched as he waded from the river with tears decorating his face, and my circlet in his fingers.
* * *
Now I watch as he sits upon my throne, as he courts wanton women, and as he rules in my stead. I watch, and I wait.
My translucent arms, watery and heavy, rest upon his shoulders. His expression betrays him as he raises his hand, to wipe a stray raindrop, but no rain has fallen. Fear grips as he travels the castle corridors and beholds puddles on the floor. His smooth hands touch the crown upon his head, and the gold feels like iron, cold and heavy, like the ice that decorates his bedroom, bringing impotence and dread.
He slips silently into madness in his sun drenched palace.
I chill his soul with every step, binding him to my heavy heart, until his crown is frozen, his hands are soaked with my pain, and his feet are burdened with dread.
Then when fear grips in the dead of night, when darkness abounds and seizes his mind, I drown him…I drown him in his own nightmares…
* * *
Now he floats to me, on a river of heavenly light, and I beckon. He moves on my zephyr of breath, and he smiles as I gaze, and I blush. Relief and arrogance bloom on his cheeks as he dances forward, free of his watery incubus. I promise much, but I never deliver, and I thrust him away, down, back down into his heavy body, on a cold, wet bed. His arms flail and his hands, those strong hands, beg…
And I drown him, every night…