Sin

She crossed her legs, becoming comfortable whilst sitting outside the French riviera. Calm, finding the place where she relaxed her body, as well as trying to relax that mind of hers. The thoughts, invading her, enveloping, consistently trying to find a weakness to exploit. That type of thinking didn’t matter to her, not anymore. She’d found a release, a sin of sins to explore. It kept her up at night, at times, while also keeping her thoughts constantly filled. He, him, that person sitting across from her busy reading the local paper, made her needed sins reality.

Excitement, his smile encompassing the very word, the very notion of being completely, utterly and absolutely devoured in every single way. Yet, at no point, would she ever deny any of the moments they’d shared. He’d appeared from nowhere which, to her, baffled her structured, whilst cluttered way of thinking and living. She fought herself, at times, finding any source of shallow negativity to cling to, to embrace, yet the sins upon her skin had spoken a legion of words within.

He was all of her sins, made manifest, from all of the nights, those lonely curled up and cold nights. All of the sins she needed to commit with someone, all of the times she desired someone to be within her, wrapped around her, having her, taking her, freeing her from the everyday boredom of life, drama and idiocy; made real.

She just wanted to feel that sin. She wanted to feel so alive, like she could let go, lower her guard, let someone in to do whatever they wanted to do. If, the next day, they were still beside her. As long as there was that little bit more, she didn’t care what sin was performed upon her body. If they wanted that little bit more, listened to her, held her hand, walked beside her, she didn’t care what happened in private. She was open, freely willing to do every… single… little… thing.

She didn’t mind the bruises, on her arms, or legs, as that was what he was. A whirlwind, a cacophony of absolute lust, desire and need. Again, that did not bother her, as whilst he was being a whirlwind, she was simply being swept away with the moment and then, from nowhere, he would calm. He would be so sensitive, touching her like she’d never been touched before, holding her in such a way that ensured she felt cared for, loved and more than desired.  Then, he would rise again, to literally envelop and encompass every single part of her.

He was a man, she was a woman, and he did not mean to hurt her, at all, but his fuelled moments made her shake, feel, her need sending butterflies to her stomach. She was wanted. He wanted to hold her and never let go, when he reached that point. He didn’t want to stop, never stop, and she didn’t wish for him to stop. Besides, she’d given him a few bruises, whilst on top, feeling, expressing, also not willing to let go of the moment. She even, once, nearly broke one of his fingers. Even though the pain echoed through the room, in that moment, neither stopped, neither giving in to the pain, because when it’s that intense, she simply did not wish to cease the moment.

His sin became hers. She knew that he’d had a colourful life, filled with pleasure and that pain spilling from within him at random moments, but that made his mystery seem all the more sensual. Each word, from his lips, called to her, especially when he whispered his sinful words at the most inappropriate times. He just knew everything about her. Reading each look upon her face, knowing exactly what she wanted, when she wanted. He seemed to have a sixth sinful sense that drove her crazy. She’d never known anyone to use their lips, the way he did.  Vocally, seductively, emotionally and provocatively. His damn sin, being spoken and written upon her delicate skin, as her cheeks felt flush with her rampaging thoughts.

He looked up, from the newspaper, with those dark eyes of his. Her body, her gloriously worshipped body, felt his eyes upon her as she witnessed his sin wash over her. She would never, ever, have this any other way. She would sin all day, all night, repeating that sin until she could hardly breath, as a world without sin, would literally be a sin made real.

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Worthy

Jacob looked through the glass casing, wide eyed, full of wonder and intrigue. Eventually, one day within his future, the Crown of Crowns would be his and his alone. The majestic ideals of a mere child, with the excitement and honest innocence shining through his wondrous smile. His nose, being as naughty as it usually was, ever so slightly pressed against the glass. His eyes filled themselves with the view of the diamonds, spread across the golden surface. Magical.

Stepping back, ever so slightly, his inquisitive nature got the better of him as he asked the same question, he’d been asking for the last few weeks, “When will this be mine?” The guards, usually silent, carried on with their duties of standing very, very still, until, from the corridor, appeared his Uncle. Jacob adored his Uncle, the mystery of every single conversation, forcing his young mind to think of moments he might not have considered.

“Master Jacob, on this very day, I can finally answer your question. That is, of course, if you can answer mine?”

Jacob, throwing his arms around his Uncle, beamed from ear to ear as his imagination jumped into thinking mode. He loved the tasks that Uncle brought to his eyes and ears. He’d learned archery, staff fighting, sword play and more, whilst being mentally challenged by his Uncle’s wisdom of life. Each task, each moment, a chance to learn and explore, to acknowledge that any physical training required more than action, but thought as well.

“Uncle, what is the question?” asked Jacob, his small heart beating within his chest as he wondered. He, after all, adored the Crown or Crowns and wished to accept the gift without delay.

“My sweet Jacob, my ever-wondering Jacob. Are you worthy of such a gift? The Crown of Crowns?”

Jacob bounced from foot to foot, his innocence being of a boy that had not yet seen the world for what ii truly could be, which Uncle adored and loved. Uncle, of course, had been given the task of slowly bringing Jacob into the world, teaching him, guiding him, to ensure that he reached his teenage years with wisdom as well as the obvious wealth. Money meant nothing, to a man such as Uncle, without the knowledge and wisdom of what to do with such monies.

“Of course I am Uncle, it’s destined to be mine?”

Uncle shook his head, smiling as he did so. Kneeling, his face the same level as Jacob’s, he knew that the first answer would not be the correct answer. Power, in any shape or form, was a precious and dangerous force to hold within any person’s world.

“My Dear Boy, that is not the correct answer. Come back tomorrow. No words, right now, leave, think, return tomorrow at this time and you shall answer the question again!”

Jacob, with a fading smile, wished to say so many things, provide all of the cascading reasons as to why he felt that he gave the correct answer but, instead, he simply did as requested. This moment, his Uncle’s words, were to be held close to his thoughts. Any person could fire an arrow, aim to release the wooden artefact to bestow a consequence upon another, but the reason behind firing the arrow, was all that counted in the scheme of all great things.

Uncle watched as Jacob slowly, ploddingly, walked from the room. “The wonder of innocence” he said, being whispered under his breath.

The next day, Uncle waited, standing next to the Crown of Crowns. It’s elegance, understated, regal, filling his eyes with pride and fortitude. The grace at which a king wore such artefacts, had always filled him with pride. The splendour and magnificence of it all, enamoured him in ways that he may never understand. From around the corner, Jacob appeared, running with glee and certainty, “Uncle, Uncle, I think I have the answer!”

“Calm yourself Boy, relax your breathing and in your own time, clearly state which you wish to say!”

Jacob calmed himself, closing his eyes as he slowly breathed in through his nose, then out of his mouth. He could feel his heart, bashing against his chest, start to calm and relax. He opened his eyes and, slowly, started to speak.

“Uncle, maybe I’m not worthy of the Crown of Crowns. I am not. But I would accept such a gift without question!”

Uncle shook his head, smiling as he did so, “Return again tomorrow, young Man.”

Jacob looked thoroughly confused, almost annoyed, his mild anxiety appearing across his face. He, again, stilted his tongue with respect for his Uncle’s words. He’d thought about his answer for hours and hours. Barely sleeping, wondering and wishing for the correct answer to appear. Once again, despite his efforts, his gift was refused. Turning, slowly, he once again begrudgingly walked from the room.

The next day appeared, the hands of time reaching the desired moment, with Uncle once again standing in the very same spot. Today, he understood, would be a day of days. Uncle knew that Jacob had a keen mind, a solid mind, for such a youngster within a court of jesters, schemers and play artists. Jacob would be all he could be, one day, a day upon a calendar that would soon arrive.

Jacob appeared, again, walking hesitantly around the same corner. Uncle’s head tilted to the side, ever so slightly, as he wondered what was happening within this young man’s mind. It wasn’t often that he’d seen Jacob like this. Reflective, stilted, not quite sure of himself. Either way, the conclusion would soon appear.

“How are you today, Jacob?” Uncle asked with care.

“I am okay Uncle.” Replied Jacob.

“Do you have a suitable answer for me?”

“I do uncle, I do!”

“Then let’s hear it boy, time waits and awaits our decisions.”

Jacob bit his lip, as he looked down at the floor, starting to slowly speak. Uncle could tell that Jacob didn’t like the answer to which he had found but, thankfully, Jacob accepted the truth of such things.

“I am neither worthy, or unworthy, of such a Crown of Crowns. Gifts are given, accepted and appreciated. Especially one as precious as this.”

Uncle smiled a deep, caring smile, the lines upon his face showing his love and appreciation for such an honest and down to earth answer.

“Correct, my boy. None of us are worthy of such a gift, be it love from another, or a Crown of Crowns. To think that we are worthy of anything, is but folly filled with vacant grace. We must earn such things. We must earn the love of others. The Crown of Crowns signifies that you will be loved, such is a ring of marriage, but before you can truly appreciate such moments, each of us must prove ourselves to be worthy!”

Jacob smiled, as he’d finally found the answer, with Uncle’s words resounding within his heart and mind. “Will I ever be worthy of Love, Uncle?”

“My boy, we are worthy of our own love and, through the grace of actions and deeds, we may all one day be worthy, of the love of others. This, and only this, will keep you grounded. Earn, respect, appreciate and listen. This is the path to love. This is the path to being worthy, of the Crown of Crowns!”

Jacob jumped up and down, twice, his excitement once again getting the better of him.

“I shall try to be the best person I can be, Uncle, I shall listen, just as I listen to you!”

Uncle nodded, “Jacob… be worthy my Son, know your worth and be worthy!”

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Innocent

The first time I saw your picture, I did and said something a little bit wrong. My mind escaped itself, vanished, as my eyes sent your image to my heart and, in that moment, I simply said to the empty room, “I’m going to marry you!” I then silenced myself, informed myself to stop being stupid, as this way of thinking simply would not do.

When you get to the age that I am, right now, with the scars and lessons understood, that way of thinking is all a little bit silly. Maybe even scary but, when you forget all of that and remind yourself that you can still be innocent in the way you view things, you can permit, allow, remove the hesitation and believe again.

There’s only one life, filled with many chances, moments, with few of them seemingly ever meant to last. I’ve formed connections, created a whole new world, remembering that things in our lives can and will be better than they were before.

The second time I saw your picture, after we’d spoken many times, I’d reached that rational place and space. It’s a solemn realisation that we have to stay grounded, level, safe and protected. What happened to flying as high as we could? What happened to my dreams and imagination? I know that they’re all there, within me, sustaining my worth, hidden from the world as we’re all supposed to be special, whilst silently exclaiming that we’re afraid to be more than we are. We’re either all special, all wondrous beings, or simply all meant to fade away with time.

Either way, whichever picture that I have of you within me, it matters not. I’ve been called every single name under the sun. I’m supposedly the most understanding man some have met, also giving, loving, communicative, whilst freely giving silence as my ears listen to all of your words. At the same time, as the echoes reach my mind, I’ve heard the vilest comments being made about who I am. Undeserved, understood, but never to ever be forgotten.

What I’m trying to convey, as I myself search for the words to communicate my thoughts, is that I’m no longer willing to put one foot in front of the other, in order to walk across the bridge between us. I’m not afraid, most certainly not lacking confidence, but that fear of miss-understanding and repugnant recriminations, have made me want to stop forever more. It’s been a year of years, with a few day of days that can never be taken back.

Yet, still, from nowhere, my heart skipped a second and my eyes opened wide. No matter which crushing car crash of our lives we’ve suffered through, no-one and nothing can ever expel my innocence. It’s there, in my words as your impression flooded my view. We live in a world where men have to push to get what they want. The lion after the lioness, dressed to impress with words and actions of pure vulgar irregularity. It’s the golden standard for all men to aspire to. That’s the truth. The madness of where we’re at.

I’m not going to do that. I do what I do, I say whatever I say, as that’s who I am. Yeah, I know, crazy but true. No-one wants a butler, whilst blagards and thieves exist to taunt everyone with words of temptation. The word ‘gentleman’ hasn’t existed for the longest of times and I honestly, truthfully, appreciate why so many people are jaded.

The first time I saw your picture, I did and said something a little bit silly. My mind escaped itself, jumped, as my eyes sent your image to my heart and, in that moment, I simply said to the empty room, “I’m going to marry you!” I then laughed at myself, ignored myself as I was being stupid, as this way of thinking reminded me of being so very, very young and innocent. Again.

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Remember: This is a work of fiction! (With a bit of life experience thrown in)

Text

David touched the phone’s screen, his breathing stilted with expectant nerves, opening the view to see that the message had arrived. Finally, after such a long time, he could smile. He pressed the text icon and watched as the screen changed to a familiar view. He scrolled up, for a few seconds, with many messages and memories sliding in front of his eyes. Finally, he stopped scrolling, as he reached the first message.

He started to read. Speed reading. Glancing through, missing out the usual formalities of conversation, until he reached a certain point in time. The first kiss. His eyes softened, the smile increasing, as his emotions tried to grasp the situation with a pure heart, an understanding heart. That first kiss where you show that you’re interested, that you want more, feel more and need that something extra from a person. The wondrous adventure of all the moments to follow.

He recalled their first kiss, stolen, a quick glancing affair taken whilst he was feeling that extra bit brave. He had all the confidence in the world, with any woman, until he met someone that he actually really, really liked. Maybe he’d watched far too many black and white movies, as a child, or maybe it was the dignity and nobility trying to enforce that he respected her in all the ways that he should. The long-lost values that meant little, in the fast and free moments of their present world.

Either way, no matter his thoughts, he’d distracted her and upon her eyes meeting his again, he took that moment to grab his kiss. A quick, single, simple gesture to ensure their nerves stayed calm and the conversation relaxed. It had worked. The success of a brave foot forward or, should he say, placing his lips upon hers. He returned to viewing the messages as his emotions rose. Special. Something to remember.

He scrolled a little more, the quick messages between them flowing with such ease. He reached the obvious place where the relationship turned from friendly gestures, to the intimacy shared between the two. She turned him on, with nearly every single word from her lips. She wasn’t one to hold back and, finally, neither did he. He’d waited the longest time to find someone that he could feel comfortable with, to be able to express himself the way he’d wanted, with happiness finally being embraced. He felt free, unconstrained, as she listened to whatever his imagination wanted to think. He’d whisper to her, whenever he could, words of devotion, love, debauchery and more. She seemed to adore his naughty mind, the nature of being able to say the words needed, to drive the both of them insane with physical need. It was the electric to his fire.

Then, he recalled the moment they’d said the three words that meant so much. He feared the words, held them close to his heart, despite wanting the world to know. The vulnerability they signified, warning him, embracing him, opening his arms to allow another person into his life and emotion. She said the words first, as he read them on the screen, with him quickly rushing to her side, to say them in person. He just wanted to see her eyes glow, her smile escape, with her arms holding him close as he felt even more freedom. The trust, often given, seldom actually earned, being created between them.

He was so happy. They were both happy whilst walking hand in hand. The world faded; the moments bonding the both of them, to a new place. He continued to scroll, realising that it really was working for her, the love that she had.

Content with the messages, he reached the bottom of the texts and started to type his reply. He simply needed to know, wished to have an answer and, despite the moments being as they were, he didn’t want to push or hamper where she currently resided. He pressed send, next to his typed message, as he re-read the content, ‘Thanks Brian. I just needed to know, and I hope that it works out for the both of them. It hurts but sometimes, knowing that your ex is happy with someone else, is all that matters’.

He pressed the lock button on the side of his phone, standing and turning towards the door, as he slowly walked from the room. He knew that history repeated itself, that people said the same things, to each other, over and over again, yet he preferred closure, an ending, a realisation that everyone was a free spirit. He was now free, eager to move forward, after reading a few simple, little, private texts.

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