The Gods of Love and War - Part 1 (Short Fiction)
This is day 23 for me (I started 1 day late) in @dragosroua's 30 day writing challenge.
Today, (and for the next two days) I will be publishing a new short story. Please be aware that this story deals with ADULT THEMES. However, I don't feel that it is graphic.
This is an exploration of the nature of relationships, and the individual's search for completion and wholeness. It is written in both a serious and lighthearted manner. Writing it definitely took me out of my comfort zone.
THE GODS OF LOVE AND WAR
Emily
She wasn't my first love. I had certainly had my fair share before her. Some memorable, some not so. And they probably felt the same way about me. But this felt different. This time I felt more alive. And more confused. The good and the bad; relationships have brought all these things and so much more to me. But I loved Emily. I know I did. In a self abusing kind of way I guess.
With her long legs, curly blond hair and penchant for pretty dresses I was putty in her hands. And she moulded me, folded me, and turned me inside out. Was I just a play thing for her? Like a cat with a little mouse, before deciding whether to devour it or not? Just teasing it, building up a false hope, just to crush its dreams?
“Come here,” she said to me. I approached tentatively, longingly. She was sitting on the kitchen bench. Not the normal place a woman sits. Not unless they had other things on their mind. And she did. She gazed at me, as she drew me into her spell. Her legs open ever so slightly, a suggestion being planted within my mind, but nothing more. The bait had been cast out, and I was being lured in. She knew exactly what I wanted. What every man wants.
She pulled me in and grabbed my shirt in her clenched fist. Her cherry red lips like a beacon to guide me. Her legs wrapped around me, anchoring me into the trap she had laid moments ago. And I was trapped, both body and soul. Her allure was too much sometimes. Perhaps most times. She kissed me firmly, reaching in and stealing my heart, yet again. Twisting my insides, and removing my light. Like a love demon who has promised so much yet given so little in return. My mind turned to dust, powdered and fatigued by the mind games. I was driven by urges with low tolerance levels for these charades. But my urges did not faze her. Instead they were fuel to her, and encouraged her to continue.
She wrapped me up as I sought out her contraband. Her forbidden scent that rose to the surface and reminded me of the end game. I started to undress, but she pulled me in tighter preventing my exposure. Her skin felt so soft and delicate as her arms folded around me and held me in her embrace. She has her ways. And she knew it. Confidence oozed out of every pore of her body. Did she know how sexy this made her? Of course she did. How could she not? The mind games of the seductress were in full swing.
Emily pushed back ever so slightly. She wasn't gentle, but clearly in control. I tried to reach behind her to unzip her dress. She smiled at me pushing me further back. Lowering herself from the bench she stood facing me. Her eyes cast directly upon me, as her gentle smile turned to a victor's smirk.
“Is that it?” I asked. She didn't answer, nor did she have to. I was firmly in her grasp. Being teased and prodded, as she considered when she would go in for the kill. And whenever that was, it would be on her terms, and when she decided.
I poured myself some vodka. My anaesthetic for those feelings of heartbreak and powerlessness. And that is really what it was. I was not in control. And that worried me. It broke me, more to the point. No man likes to be a mouse.
Is this just sex I am talking about? And with Emily, a seductively beautiful woman? Am I wrong to want it from her? Or pathetic to not appreciate the ebb and flow of this game of the hunter and the hunted? I think I am pathetic, but I have no desire to change my ways. I am a man, no changing that. And the more she unfurls her long limbs and ensnares me the more I desire the fruit that lies within. Remove it from me at the last minute and a part of me dies.
Should I have chased after her and turned the tables? Sure, except I have tried that before. This trap had entwined itself all around me. I loved her, but she left me feeling inadequate. Drew me in to allow me to try and prove myself, then pushed me away to watch me writhe in the agony and shame of defeat. Perhaps that was the very thing that aroused her? Her magic potion. How was I supposed to compete with that? There was only one thing I could do to regain control of this farce that I was drowning in. And I had made my decision.
“I'm leaving you,” she told me as she walked back into the room. As she watched me holding the glass of vodka that was killing the brain cells that held the memory of the last three months. The three months I had spent with Emily. And yet again she had sensed the battle ahead, and taken control. I didn't even have the chance to end it decisively. That was supposed to be my move. She checkmated me. I guess she got bored of being with a mouse.
Sofia
Sofia was a delight. The light to Emily's darkness. She had the ability to reach in and pluck out the deadwood from inside and cast it aside. “You don't need that any more,” she'd tell me, smiling playfully as she massaged the broken pieces of my soul. What she lacked of Emily's stature and physical prowess she more than made up for in her gentle curiosity and wandering dream-like personality. I was transfixed by her. She wasn't a seductress. She had other powers. Powers that had me forgetting myself and my past. And forgetting the rotten psychological state I arrived in her life with.
I really believed, when I first met her, that she was my antidote. Sent from God to cure me of my ails.
We met in a bar. She was sitting twirling girlishly beside me. I had my vodka, and was starting slowly on my night's mission to drown my sorrows. Every last one of them.
“Are you going to buy me a drink?” she asked. I had sensed her twirling presence beside me but had yet to explore its source any further than that. Instead its source had come to me. I turned and faced her. To look at this bundle of energy that was requesting my money in exchange for her alcohol.
She had a purple flower behind her left ear. Her dark, thick hair hung loosely to her shoulders, and her eyes held my gaze as I could feel them send out harpoons to reel me in. She laughed joyously as I stared at her without speaking. I had forgotten how to talk.
“Would you like to buy me a drink?” She had my attention now. And absolutely yes I was going to buy her a drink. When I remembered who and where I was.
“Of course, what would you like?” She ordered a cocktail concoction that had me transfixed at both its complexity and price. She winked at me as I paid for her drink and she sipped away.
“Here's to us,” she said, raising her glass in the air. Wow, she doesn't waste any time. There is an us in this equation already. We finished our drinks and I inquired as to whether she would like another.
“No, I'd rather go home and fuck.” And that was that. And that is what we did, every day since we met. To tell you the truth, I was starting to get sick of it. Don't get me wrong, the sex was amazing. She gives a new meaning to the word inventive. And energy. I don't know where she got hers from. Me perhaps, as she left me thoroughly drained.
I was in her house before I knew her name, and inside her before she knew mine. How could such a thing last? Was it meant to last? Emily had drained my soul, now Sofia was restoring it, but at the cost of my body. At least I wasn't a mouse any more. I definitely felt like a man, without having to subjugate anyone. But I started to feel like a man that was withering away. Dying before his time. Can a man die of too much sex? Did I want to find out? Maybe.
I loved Sofia too. She was a goddess to me. Picked me up and put me back on a pedestal. I don't think I necessarily belonged there. But she wanted me there. I was like her lost little puppy dog, and no one was going to hurt me. But I needed just a bit more than that.
She had a big heart, with a bottomless pit of sexuality. She oozed it. Not like Emily, this was different. This was joyous, life affirming. But at the end of the day, it was just sex. There was a connection, as we hooked into each other's auric fields and played around and explored in the forbidden places. She opened my eyes. To what I was hiding more so than anything else.
But I needed love, not just sex. Had I become a mouse again? Or some other pathetic creature? Here I was pushing away what I had previously felt like I needed. Do I even know what I need? Clearly not.
When we broke up it did break her heart. For all of about five minutes. Until she was distracted by a scent from across the street. It reminded her of flowers. Purple flowers in particular. She couldn't remember why that felt so pertinent. She ran off through the fields of her mind following the trail of memories. I didn't stick around to tell her. She would have been distracted by the very next thing that popped into her mind anyway. And that is what I loved about her.
All images used with permission, and sourced from Unsplash.com.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. If you liked it then please like, comment, and follow.
Notes From an Amateur Writer blog series:
Notes From an Amateur Writer #1 - The Search For Inspiration
Notes From an Amateur Writer #2 - A Call to Action: Interacting With the World Outside of Me
Notes From an Amateur Writer #3 - Facing the Challenge
Notes From an Amateur Writer #4 - The Soundtrack to Grief and Loss
Notes From an Amateur Writer #5 - Music as a Catalyst for Imagination: Jimi Hendrix's Little Wing
Notes From an Amateur Writer #6 - The Stories All Around Us
Notes From an Amateur Writer #7 - Introducing Nomad [A Cyberpunk Mystery in the Making]
Notes From an Amateur Writer #8 - The House at the Edge of the World
Notes From an Amateur Writer #9 - Making Peace With My Kindle
Notes From an Amateur Writer #10 - Learning the Craft of Story Structure
Notes From an Amateur Writer #11 - Adults Sit at the Big Table, Children Sit at the Small Table
Notes From an Amateur Writer #12 - The Time I Won a Lego Competition
Notes From an Amateur Writer #13 - Learning to Fly
Notes From an Amateur Writer #14 - The Tucker 48: Face to Face With a Million Dollar Vehicle
Notes From an Amateur Writer #15 - When the Levee Breaks: A Story in Song and Words
Notes From an Amateur Writer #16 - Monty Python, Keanu Reeves, and My Case of Invisibility
Notes From an Amateur Writer #17 - Dancing With My Muse
Short Fiction:
Bang Bang You're Dead
I Have No Name and I Must Scream
The Last Book Store
The Judge
The Man In The Mirror
The End of the World [Part 1] [Part 2]
The Locked Room
Not gonna lie, my eyes glazed up as I was reading this. My heart wasn't ready for the rollercoaster ride you put me through, mate. This was such a beautiful, intimate piece. I felt like I was reading two side of a coin with Emily and Sofia. Perhaps this really appealed to me because I could relate to it on so many levels. It was as if you were narrating a part of my life. Beautiful words, brother. There were many parts which I would like to bookmark, but I'll just quote here some of my favorite ones, for posterity.
Really brought the whole story full circle. My mind was blown, but I knew I needed more. Come to think of it, I really like both endings!
This really took me for a whirl. Such a nice hook! Even the risque parts had my heart fluttering. This was just a tour de force of you literary awesomeness.
You really gave the two women distinct characterization, it felt like I was reading two stories in one delightful narration. Man, you keep improving leaps and bounds with every piece you put out. Have I ever told you how happy I am to have you back posting regularly and in good health?
It was a bit cathartic too. Not that it's an autobiography. But as with all writings there are elements of the writer in them. There is a lot of me in the narrator. The story itself is fictional and used as guide to explore the central theme. I had the title a long time ago. Maybe even years ago. But no clue as to how I wanted to express what that title meant to me, not until a few days ago. And then like lightning it just struck, and the words flowed rapidly. So clearly my subconscious has been bottling up some of what came out in that story.
I wanted to build a world around the narrator, and tell a story through these women he knows, and these relationships he gets involved in. But its his story, and these women all reflect an aspect of himself back to him. The question is will he ever realise that?
So it became like building blocks, and each episode/relationship (6 in total) needed to logically flow from the last, and lead to the next. As well as act as a kind of it's own short story in a way. Hook, and ending that are themselves compelling.
I think I have succeeded in this regard. But I had to push myself to write that level of intimacy/vulnerability. Glad I did though.
And very happy to read your wonderful thoughts on this story, and what it meant to you. Truly grateful.
Yeah, I wanted to point it out as well. He's painting his story through his different relationships with these women. I just commented on part 2, too. It's so thrilling going from one to the next. Their distinct characters tell more about how the character reacts to the world around him.
I get how he's a shard of you, as you know that I do that with my stories as well. It's great how this is cathartic and entertaining at the same time. A rare mix!
I wrote this in one sitting, so it really flowed well, and reads well as a unit. At almost 5000 words the complete story was too much for one post. Fortunately I wrote it in such a way that I could logically break it into components that fit well together. I was first going to split it two ways and include Grace's story in the first part. But it just didn't sit right with me. She needed Zoe to balance her section. So I guess it does read well in 3 parts, as it is now. But reading it in one sitting allows you to get the full picture, the flow of this man's life and struggles.
It ended up being like a trilogy, with the 3 section having their own style or tone to them. The first was more the sex/love thing. The 2nd is more the covert/overt type of suppression. As for the 3rd, well we'll see :)
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That was powerful, the kaleidescope of emotions came through very naturally. I definitely would not call it graphic though, just an honest account of feelings :)
Thank you for the feedback, much appreciated. Yes it felt very natural for me as I wrote it, but still vastly different to anything I had posted previously. I wanted it to be a real and powerful expression of the emotional battlefield that can often occur. But without turning in to some blamefest of victimhood :)
This read like a noir to me, very monochrome except for Emily's red dress (it may not have been red but it looked a very saturated red to me, to go with very red lips XD) and this crazy splash of purple that was Sofia.
Not sure if that's what you were intending, but then I do tend to read/see things oddly. Well written, I quite enjoyed it :)
Yes there is only minor mention of colour, so I can see how you would visualise a monochromatic scene. It's interesting that it plays like a noir, perhaps from the first person POV. No right or wrong on these things. There are 2 more parts to come so it would be interesting to hear whether that sense continues.
I didn't have a particularly noir feel in my head when writing, but that isn't so relevant to what you perceive. But it doesn't clash or detract from what I intended, which was primarily an exploration of the human need for external validation. I was more primarily focused on the theme, and went from there.
Thank you for the feedback, and glad you enjoyed it.
I usually visualise in colour so seeing things in monochrome is unusual. I think the way the narrator character was describing things in this kind of calm but intense way got me into that feel, like those hard boiled detectives that knew that dame was trouble as soon as she walked into the office 😆
I can see how the POV can create that imagery in your mind. And those old B&W detective noirs have a striking effect, so I'm with you there.
And they always seem to know they're trouble, but proceed anyway. I guess the difference here is that the narrator is a detective, but only really in search of himself.
They wouldn't be able to have a story if the detective didn't proceed despite knowing that there was trouble XD And it's kind of expected in their line of work right ;)
I did pick up on that search for himself after the Sofia part (but not in so many words, I don't always thoroughly explain what I think XD), the Emily part did a pretty good job of setting that up :)
Ah yes, the dame that was sweetness and light. It would make for a short, and unfulfilling read. So I see your point :)
Each relationship is linked, but Emily's needed to be first. I found it set up the premise better. Glad that it came across that way.
@naquoya and noir go hand-in-hand, mate. Truly one of the best noir writers here! He kind of puts the noir to all manners of genre.
LoL! He didn't let on, now I know XD
I was going to break it to you gently :)
Emily felt like a cat to me, cunning, trying to win, and Sofia maybe a puppy, putting you on a pedestal and easily distracted by a scent. So it's interesting to me that you call yourself HER puppy dog.
That's interesting. Yes Emily is certainly cat like to me. As for Sofia being a puppy. Yes, that is noticeable. The narrator probably saw himself in her, or wants to be more like her. We see our strengths, or weaknesses mirrored through others, perhaps?
Thank you for your comment.
This is well done. The hook is present, but it doesn't define the problem of the protagonist directly. I find this interesting since it doesn't seem to distract from the power of the hook. The protagonist himself doesn't really know whats wrong with him. I think he is going through a fairly common trap thinking that sex is love and vice versa. I like how in the end he is beginning to realize that he needs love, not just sex. Perhaps the concept of sex hindering the development of love may be an upcoming theme. Thanks @naquoya ! Cheers!
Perhaps its more of a slow grind through our narrator's life via his relationships? But yes the hook is vital, to at least make you want to stick around and see where this is going. I needed to split this in to 3 parts due to its length, although would have preferred to post as one. It flows very well as one read, but at almost 5000 words I think I would have been asking a bit much of my readers.
I am glad to hear that you like it, and that you can see thematic developments at play. What you listed are definitely a part of what I am getting at, although it does go deeper in the next sections.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts, its always helpful to the writing process.
It kind of read like a Raymond Chandler story, hope that doesn't sound to strange but I really liked it :-)
Not strange at all. I have only read a bit of his fiction, but I see what you mean. And that's a connection that doesn't bother me in the slightest.
Thanks for the feedback, really appreciate it.
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