It was not that my doubt had disappeared

It was not that my doubt had disappeared, rather the function in my brain that administers self-examinatory operations like doubt was shut down momentarily. While boldly letting my fingers follow muscles and veins under the ivory surface of his skin, reason left us alone for once, and all that was were bodies infused with the ambiguous nature of desire. All around our forceful collision, I could hear the light footsteps of fauns and faeries dancing, as if they were watching us, as if their graceful movements were following ours, as if they knew of our existence at all. In the midst of it, the thought of letting go of his gaze was excruciating and painful, like standing at the foot of a mountain knowing that you cannot rest until you reach the very top. Sweat was breaking out at my eyebrow, blurring my sight, adding to the dizziness of falling into someone and exploring the uncharted territory of the other. There is a freedom in seeing your hands moving as if not belonging to you, and in being necessarily ignorant of any consequences their actions might have. There are consequences though. You do not know them yet and you cannot think of any way to care. While reason is on hold, so is the future.

Afterwards, we lay silent, the grass itching on our skin and a feeling of awkwardness on our lips. There is no other phenomenon in life other than desire that is so in the moment that when it passes, there is barely a trace of it left. What was just a few seconds ago the only focus of our burning hearts, suddenly feels distant and slightly naive. I wanted to leave him there without saying a word, with firm steps and no regret, but knew that I wouldn’t dare. I have never been comfortable when words are lacking and moments like these has always been suffocating to me. The color of the sky was slowly changing, a testimony of the approaching dawn.

I can’t see a thing you know. It’s just one of those peculiarities, that my empty eyes are purely decorative. I can hear through my hard ears, feel touch on my chiseled skin and smell through my shallow nostrils. But I can’t see through my eyes. I remember a time when I could, before my colors wore off and left my naked body, hair and eyes the same shade of pale ivory white. As the green color of my iris and the olive pit black of my pupils faded, so did my vision. So when they come to visit, there is always a moment of uncertainty as I hear footsteps approaching through the grass and fallen leaves. Today it was raining, so the footsteps were even softer, dampened by the lighter tips and taps of raindrops on foliage.

Light footsteps and hesitation are good news. Doubt is natural when one is alone with me. Boots and brash voices are not good news. My generously chiseled assets had so far been spared from the swords and hammers of brash men in boots, although it had been a close call on occasion. I have heard angered shouts of blasphemy and whispered jokes of envy. Are they also envious of their horses? Perhaps it’s my unyielding readiness that angers them. In any case, I was hidden in the forest long ago to keep me from destruction. My ivory white skin has an unusual glow and fragrance for my age, rubbed as it is with bodies, oils and perfumes. And I am cleaned often by gentle hands, which is probably a good idea as the birds have taken a liking to sitting on my extended appendage.

I was laid down on the grass, with knees pressing on my sides and hands moving back and forth across my chest. Flesh thighs and bone knees pressed harder. Did you know that most of us are Stoics? At least most I have know. When I was young it was fashionable, but it I think it has stood the test of time. One who visits me likes to read Kierkegaard aloud while leaning on my piedestal. Apparently Kierkegaard is an existentialist. I hope there aren’t many out there who are existentialists, it must be terribly difficult, especially for someone like me. I heard little sounds now, body sounds and wordless song. A drop of water fell on my lips, either tears or sweat. Another drop fell and hit my left eye. A small piece of dirt was suspended in the middle of the drop that rested on my eyeball, and suddenly I saw as in a heavy fog a body against a faint sky. I saw eyes fixed on mine, and as I gained my vision I think they really saw me. I don’t think they knew they really saw me, and just the body convulsed and fell on my chest, the little salty drop dried up and there was darkness just as the sky was getting brighter. This body laid with me on the ground much longer than they usually do and the first rays of sun hit my solid body.

I wasn’t watching or anything (I’m not a perv, please don’t believe that). I was minding my own business, as usual. The leaves was softly swaying around me and the rough surface of the tree trunk felt solid and secure under my claws. If you’d ever spent most of your days collecting food for a couple of screaming kids at home, you’d know that it’s easy for your mind to wander off from time to time. You start to appreciate the attentive silence of the forest, and sometimes you’ll even forget what the hell you’re doing. So there I was, in the middle of a daydream or whatever. And suddenly, there they were, in the middle of I don’t even want to know what.

The thing with daydreaming is that you do it with your eyes open (in comparison to the other type of dreams, which are a lot more stressful – who even got the courage to keep their eyes closed for a whole night these days? It’s a miracle we’re still alive, you know). Your gaze touches one thing after the other, without really noticing. It’s like your regard get’s restless while your brain is away on personal business. And if there’s movement, you can bet your bottom dollar on the fact that your eyes will be there. As I’ve said, I’m not a weirdo – it’s just that one moment the forest was all empty, and the next it was not.

I’ve never liked the way they move, really. It’s slow and doughy somehow, and I get bored. But this was a bit different, there was something in their bodies that sung to me. Some would probably call it beautiful, but I don’t know. It was a movement like the waves of the sea that I’ve seen during the summer when going to the coast south of here looking for berries. It took me a while to adjust, or at least to realize what was going on. The moment I realized, I felt weird and looked away. Or I TRIED to look away. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t usually spy on others. But it was just so damn hypnotizing, I couldn’t really help myself.

After what felt like forever (why are they so slow?), and the one with all the dark hair all over the place had disappeared, I went down there. It wasn’t far down, and I’m a lot quicker then those bums. I crept up carefully towards the pale skin of the one laying down, and softly put my paw on the surface. It was intense! I had expected the cold feeling of aged stone, but it was like something was pulsating inside, like it had been injected with some life form, an ethereal light or something that I couldn’t really find words for. I’m not usually inclined towards religion or whatever, but what would you think? I got pretty scared, I gotta tell you. But still, the warmth was kind of calming too, so I didn’t run away. And then it happened, this was when it got really crazy. Slowly, a small crack appeared right under my paw, and made it’s way all over the chiseled body up towards its head.

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