I was going to give myself a writing break. I've been emotionally drained this month and I thought, writing should wait. Of course I slept and all but the restlessness wouldn't go away. I'm still learning how to not swallow my grief. Since my brain was poking me, I decided to oblige it. I opened the home page of pixabay and this image jumped at me, so I decided to create a story around it.
I hope it finds you well.
The road was deserted as he staggered towards the house. It ceased being just a house to him a long time ago. It had become his home. He patted the pocket of his trousers and smiled. He wasn't sure what to call his smile these days. They never reached his eyes. The ground was wet and slippery. It rained earlier. He loved it, not the rain itself but the calmness it brought. He used to be afraid of water as a child. Even now, he could hear his mother's soft voice, cooing. She had this serenity about her. It must have rubbed off on him. He loved quietude.
His fear of rain and water had disappeared that night, when he had to drag his mother's body out of the lake behind their house. He had sat under the moonless sky for hours, staring at the lifeless body, had forgotten how cold it was, and when the tears stopped flowing, had picked up his old man's rifle and sent him home. He blamed himself for doing nothing to stop him. He cursed life for being cruel. When he dragged both bodies back to lake and watched the dark water swallow them, he felt nothing. He was only sixteen.
The house was the last one on the street. There was a certain arrogance about it. It wasn't the kind of house you missed. The paint was already peeling but that made it more interesting. A passerby would see a tall building with one entrance at the center, but those who owned the house –they loved to call themselves that– knew that the entrance was only a disguise. He stood in front, taking it in. He liked to do that every night, before disappearing inside.
The interior was dim. It took a while for his eyes to adjust. He remembered vividly his first time here. It had started as a joke. Kimi had made the dare. They had found each other shortly after that night. He had loved his looks from the very beginning. He knew he loved him too, but Kimi was the adventurous one. He wanted to try something new. He obliged him, and since that day, they never looked back.
At the far east was Jes, his favourite. He had noticed her the first night. There was something compelling about her. The other girls carried out their duties righteously. But Jes, she broke all the rules. She had no tattoos like most of them and she never let her hair down. He had wondered what could be so special about her hair and why everyone obeyed her rules, but he soon found himself doing same. If there was one person you couldn't question, it was Jes.
She caught his eyes and smiled. He nodded and motioned towards his private room. He watched her whisper into the ear of the man besides her and chuckled. Knowing Jes, the man wouldn't recover for at least two days. He looked around and frowned. Kimi wasn't here yet. He had left after their little fight the day before. They fought so much all the time that he never thought them as serious anymore. His absence showed he was really angry. He shrugged. He would get over it.
Jes was standing by the window when he walked in. That was unlike her. She turned when he closed the door. The look in her eyes gave him a pause. For the first time, he acknowledged what he felt. He didn't object when she pulled him in. It had always been Kimi. He had thought him ridiculous when he mentioned the change during one of their endless arguments. It was clear now.
He let Jes lead her ministration. Her body moved differently. He cries were piercing and comforting at the same time. He recognised the surrender. When he loosened her hair, she didn't object. She had never given as freely before, never taken as freely, never been as sated before. She felt the same, he was sure. As he reached for his trousers to find his gift for her, he knew it would never be the same for the three of them.