Silver.

She watched the moon reach out to her across the mercurial midnight waters of the lake pock-marked with the efforts of fish feasting on insects. He buried his face into her hair, her neck, kissing her skin with a moth-light touch that made her whole body tense up in hunger and anticipation.

“Stop,” she said in a voice that suggested she didn’t really mean it. A pleading sound and she hated herself, then him, for making her voice a traitor. He didn’t want to, so he hesitated only and she forced herself to repeat her words. “Stop.”

This time he obeyed. “Don’t you love me?”

“No.” She hated herself. “I want you. But I don’t love you.”

His voice ached with the news, but he tried to make the best of it all the same. “Then why don’t we –“

“You need to leave. Now.”

“But –“

“Now. Or you will never love again.”

“I don’t –“

She turned on him, enraged and starting to lose control. Her whisper was as powerful as if she shouted. “I told you to go,” she growled, though she hungered for his skin against her own.

He backed away, nearly catching his heel on the planks of the dock and falling into the lake. His mouth opened to say something more, but he saw something. Was it in her eyes? She knew her eyes were the first to go. Whatever prompted it, her voice, her expression, or her eyes… he decided not to just leave, but to race up the treated wood timbers forming makeshift stairs up to where he’d parked. He’d leave her here, but she’d find her way home.

After.

On a cold, clear, moonlit night, a lone wolf howled at the moon. A mournful and hungry song. A song to break hearts.

One thought on “Silver.

  1. Pingback: Flirting and a short postmortem on “Silver” | Sceadugengan

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