Between the Devil and the Deep 4

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Part 4

Test of Faith

dd4

 

Jake plumbed the murky sea, swimming deeper into the spot where he had seen Sirina go under. Nothing was visible in the storm-black seawater. He plumbed more deeply, extending arms blindly in every direction until his lungs threatened to burst.

He retreated and dove again with all of his senses coming alive. Jake hauled his body ever deeper seeing only blackness until his foot brushed against something which was not rock. He froze at the touch of fingertips to his ankle and falling away.

With a ludicrous mix of terror and relief propelling him, Jake pushed deeper with limbs stretched akimbo until he finally caught the feeble fingertips that attempted to alert him. He tightened his grip on a hand too weak to hold his own and hauled them both upward, drawing a great gasp of air upon surfacing. Sirina did not.

Jake caught sight of the cabin cruiser, and motivated by sheer panic, swam with fury, dragging Sirina’s limp body until he could fling himself into the dingy for leverage. Never letting go, he strengthen his hold, moving his hands to her wrist and arm. Jake braced himself and pulled mightily, hauling Sirina aboard.

On instinct, he threw himself over her tiny, lifeless form, shielding her from rain bulleting down amidst a storm which gave no quarter. Jake moved his face close to hers, listening for the sound of breath as he held his own. Nothing! Wait, Was that a shallow breath?!  Again he steeled himself, waiting and listening. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

He grabbed her shoulders shaking her, “Breathe, Sirina! Breathe!” Then he pressed his lips to hers covering her mouth to breathe life into her lungs, reciting silent instructions and shouting panic with every pause. Tilt head back. Pinch the nose. Deep breath and push into her lungs. “Breath, Sirina!” Head tilted. Pinch nose. Deep breath. Push it into her lungs. “Don’t you give up on me! Breath now, he commanded. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Following several more rounds, he paused to listen again. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Willing her to live, and filled with terror, he administered CPR pumping her chest frantically. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. “Again! Again! Again,” Jake instructed himself aloud and to any god that might listen. Once more, he paused to listen. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Wait! What was that?

Sirina’s diaphragm lurched and she coughed.

Jake lifted her head, rejoicing, as Sirina coughed up the ocean which had nearly killed her.

As the storm died and she had sputtered her last, Jake held her close, whispering, “Inhale the good air. Exhale the bad air,” more for his comfort than hers, stroking her hair all the while and feeling her tired body fill with life.

Finally, he lay Sirina back gently, instructing, “Don’t move a muscle,” as if she could.

Sirina managed an exhausted reply, “No problem.”

Jake had already clambered up the side ladder and turned to her, issuing, “Shhh, be still.”

Jake hurdled the side rail and bolted to the wheelhouse. He hit the button which hauled the dingy and its precious cargo to safety.

Sirina stared into the now calm skies knowing that Poseidon had tested and spared her – this time.
  

 

By Wildfire8470

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©December 03, 2015 – 11:21 PM – All Rights Reserved

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Read it from the beginning!
https://wildfire8470.wordpress.com/2015/07/14/between-the-devil-and-the-deep-1/

 

Tags:  Love and Lust, Fantasy, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Man and Mermaid, Romance, Mythology, Poseidon, WiP

The Thing about Forever

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The Thing about Forever

 

marcus-violet

 
 
They were willing prisoners too comfortable in the confines of a short honeymoon phase with entirely too much in between. They had run far and fast enough, escaping the families that opposed them. He had slipped her hand into his, threading his fingers through hers, as they approached the chapel doors. The moon rose up full in the sky and she took it as omen that, at least, god approved their union.
 
 
Everything about the day was beautiful because she was with him, finally, alone, uninterrupted by the rudeness that was her life prior. She had survived so much and knew now that this was why. Marcus hit the accelerator and colorful leaves clouded in the wake of his car as she watched the countryside turn into molten gold and fiery reds that shamed the sunlight and flames in her heart.
 
 
Violet wanted this imagery, every single leaf that had fallen from trees, daylight sparking fire in the highlights in his hair, the easy conversation and the comfortable quietness, the wind rippling his shirt against his taut body, the last of summer’s warmth, and knowing the night air would be chilled. Violet needed to memorize every second with him now, every perfect moment, because nothing would ever be exactly this way again.
 
 
She leaned back into his shoulder, listening to the breeze carry his voice away as he pointed out landmarks and that which he recalled fondly, wanting to share with her. She gave him a nearly untroubled smile wishing this second would last forever and knowing it couldn’t – and wouldn’t. She loved him with her heart near to bursting with emotion, knowing even then that it would not be enough to sustain a lifetime.
 
 
They had lain in the tall grass ready to fulfill their mutual cravings offering up perfect, wanton lovemaking along with the beautiful innocence of two so untried and that unrepentant souls can muster, here in this place where two souls unite in ecstasy’s death in culmination at last.
 
 
Violet would remember. She would cling to this moment, vehemently, as no other could. Every movement; his hand stroking her hair, her cheek, their impure desires, the angle of the slightly bashful new moon, their bodies pressed  together, the heat of comingling all made perfect in marriage.
 
 
This was beginning and end which would afford her warmth, in recall, that she may need in a thousand years or the space of another breath. Nothing, she knew with paramount certainty, would ever be as special, awkward, innocently loving, and as lovely, as this momentous second.
 
 
Marcus slowed the pace, asking “Are you hungry, Violet? Do you want to stop?”
 
 
But she knew that the reality of anything concrete was enough to break the spell which had carried them this far, and though it was already too late, though something in her heart slipped as the smile slid from his lips, she closed her eyes against the sadness of torn time-space continuum, replying, “Just keep driving, Marcus. Drive forever.”
 
 

By Wildfire8470

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Tags: #love and lust #innocence #lost #lust #cravings #love #marriage #honeymoon #phase #fulfillment #spell #cast #broken #concrete #reality #Lovemaking #moonlight #memory #warmth #between
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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Desperate

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Desperate

 

In the shadows of the back room at a party, their mutual presence and timing was serendipity. His eyes met hers. She stood frozen in his gaze breathing a little too hard, her voluptuous chest rising and falling to the rapid beat of his heart. Their emotions were palpable. His countenance was that of a wolf stalking prey. Their mutual attraction was evident and insistent.

 

“Damn it,” he whispered, closing the gap between them.

 

“No shit,” she countered, throwing her arms around him.

 

Both knew the electric-blue heat crackling between them would likely be their demise. They lit the fuse on the keg of potential discovery that night, and risked life-threatening lies with every meeting thereafter. Theirs was a desperate love, demanding fulfillment at any price, so they rolled the dice knowing that any time together was too priceless a gift to remain undetected.

 

They lived on the fringes of practiced poker-faces, weaving in and out of the razor-sharp edges of night, skillfully navigating every possible means to spending time in each other’s arms, living and dying together by the tick of a clock. One ill-timed second, just the space of another breath could shatter too many lives. The intensity of their love and the depths of their attraction should have come with a HAZMAT label.

 

They were desperate and dangerous, a fatal combination, doing anything to sate the flames burning unchecked between them. They skated on killer blades across shards of icy domesticity, holding onto memories that could blast a Grand Canyon into undeserving worlds. They came together with precision, kindling, lighter fluid, and concentration. This love sliced the fragile ice with a single spark so potent it threatened to set the pitch-black night ablaze for all eternity.

 

With each of them married to another and too many lives dependent on their own, the culmination of lethal passion meant gambling everything; meeting in the small hours, slicing precious seconds in stealth to be together, or carving it out of thin air. They only existed together, arriving in disguise, signing names no one could trace, skating between luxurious hotels, the back seat of their cars, or anywhere they could lie together anonymously.

 

He breathed fervor upon her lips with his kiss and she drank his elixir with the desperate need of unadulterated addiction. He inhaled light that shone in her eyes that spoke of combustible emotions for him. Her eyes flashed an unmistakably beautiful light, like that of a Turkish lantern, conveying the sheer love in her heart and he could not look away.

 

They made vehement love with limbs wound together, bodies writhing in a deeply fierce, primal, copulate frenzy, much more incredible than either had known prior.  She vowed that her life was in the mercy of his hands.  He swore his only reason to breathe lay in the mercy of her presence in his life.

 

Together, they were salvation and damnation.  With that knowledge, they threw their craven bodies to the wolves within.  Fearlessly, they twined and bound their limbs, fondling and twisting entangled together on desperate coital fringes, loving more deeply, more intensely than their bodies would allow.  Their love was both lifeblood and lethal tonic.

 

They were junkies engulfed in gambling all on the chime of time between mundane days and rapacious nights. The two were drawn together by the pull of love like the pull of moon upon ocean, both were powerless to resist. Silently, they accepted the consequences of certain death in discovery, only truly alive in suicidal satiation, greedily welcoming the divine culmination of little death.

 

They knew the beauty of heaven in a flash that breached earth’s atmosphere with the hellish craving of junkies, both pimp and prostitute, together, offering up everything, gambling all on the craven need to torch the kindling with every dizzying orgasm. Supply increased demand and they embraced it with the honor among two who love, like thieves in the night, stealing what was not theirs to keep.

 

This couple, these two that defy every obstacle, to love, to share and bestow as one soul, united them in stealing a breath of life, each for the other, in meeting and fulfilling their ravenous taste for ambrosia, on the sharp end of a needle sans judgement, caution,  warning, and defying all labels.

 

Anyone barely glimpsing the power of their love would have killed to bottle and sell their combustion, knowing anyone would happily hand over his soul for a single sip of their cocktail. These two stole time to drink heartily and chase it with sensual fulmination; an explosion having a brilliance that blinded the gods and drowned them in their own nectar, sated and ecstatic for whatever time they claimed, each time, until the next desperate moment.

 

 

By Wildfire8470

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© January 11, 2016 – 02:16 AM

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Between the Devil and the Deep, Part 3

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Between the Devil and the Deep

Part 3

 

sirena-3

(Photo (c) kiaarax

The axe fell and Jake was extremely fortunate though suffering a good deal of survivor’s guilt. He saw three good friends let go along with many less tenured personnel at Carson & Rand, but he had been promoted to fill a new slot at the company.

 

It was no secret that two positions, now vacated, were conglomerated into one and retitled. One man to do two jobs would ease the burden on the company and would certainly make or break the man appointed to do it.

 

Carson knew Jake was the man for the job. Jake can do this with his eyes closed. He’s been covering for those slackers all year, he thought, recalling that he had hand-picked him from throngs of applicants two years ago.

 

In him, Carson saw a ‘mover and a shaker’, a younger replica of himself. Yes sir, he congratulated himself, Jake will fill the void at a lesser salary and it will still be a hefty raise to him.

 

Jake swallowed hard watching his friends empty their desks and clear out office spaces that he would soon occupy. They said civil goodbyes as he looked slightly past them unable to meet their eyes. He knew it could just as easily be him vacating the premises and he could barely breathe as they filed past him to the door. It was promotion served with a roundhouse punch, upward mobility delivered with complimentary uppercut. 

 

Emotionally and mentally Jake was beaten black and blue. Though relieved he had been spared, he was crestfallen knowing his promotion came at the expense of coworkers whom he liked and respected. My life is a roller-coaster from hell, he thought, scowling out the window.

 

Following grueling weeks of adjustment and weeks of long hours, Jake assuaged his guilt with the purchase of a shiny, new cabin cruiser which he named The Siren. When the load at work finally lightened he took three weeks of leave.

 

Every evening he sailed the sea headed for the same place; the place where she had appeared and everything had changed. He dropped anchor close enough to see the beach where he had met Sirena, or had a momentary breakdown, he reminded himself.

 

This time Jake stayed out all weekend telling himself he had earned a break after the office cutbacks and accompanying anxieties. But while at sea his eyes were constantly scanning, always searching for red hair sparking in the sunlight or anything resembling the mermaid he recalled. Sirena still filled his thoughts and he couldn’t let her go. He still felt unsettled in a way that would give him no peace.

 

Maybe I just need confirmation that she wasn’t real. Maybe that’s closure, he thought, but then tacked on, and maybe I’m fishing for the one that got away. He scratched his chin in consternation, continuing, either way I’ll have a tall fish-tale bigger than the rest, and scowled into the horizon knowing how unlikely it was that he would ever breathe a word of it.

 

Jake cruised several miles out into deeper water, noted dark clouds building in the evening sky, and took it as a personal challenge. He checked the portal weather station and turned the transistor radio on to hear reports of thunderheads and storms throughout the coming night. “Good,” he mumbled, “It suits my foul mood just fine.”

 

Sirena clung to large rocks which balanced precariously atop a sandbar. She could do nothing but hang on for her life and wait, while the driving rain pummeled and stung her flesh. Deafening thunder punctuated by blue-white lightning bolts split the ink-black sky around her. She had never seen her home from this perspective before. She’d never felt threatened by her own world until now.

 

She renewed her tentative grip on slippery rocks and vented her anger trying to best the thunder, she screamed, “I get it! You’re messing with me. Right?” Forgetting herself, she flung her fist into the air and went under again. Scrambling to surface, Sirena realized she could barely swim without her fishtail.

 

She fought to gain ground, pulling her shoulders and torso onto the rocks, angling for a safer position and yelling spitefully, “You’re punishing me for changing the natural order! Right? I thought we had a deal, Poseidon!” Another bolt plunged into murky depths as if in answer, while she watched another enormous wave building.

 

“Rhea should have kicked your ass to kingdom come the first time you ever threw a fit!” Sirena screamed her rage and terror into the driving wind and rain that battered her aching, exhausted body. With too little fight left she tightened her fists and filled her lungs for the next wave.

 

More torrents beat her down threatening to drown, but she wasn’t going to die without driving her point home. With a burst of energy born of anguished rage, she unleashed personal umbrage that matched her fiery hair illuminated in staccato, electric-blue flashes, “You traitor,” she wailed, unleashing hell’s fury, “I said I wanted to try being human! You call this a try? You’re a welcher and a traitor, Poseidon!”

 

Sirena hurled the insult into the torrential night with her voice breaking as rage gave way to throes of impotent sobs, “You make me human and drop me into certain death? That’s it? No warning? Why are you doing this to me,” she demanded, sputtering, coughing up seawater, and facing imminent death, yet raising her fist defiantly.

 

Again, the merciless night saw her hysteria, shrieking and weeping soul-wrenching tears, yet offered no reprieve. Now lost in the virulence of utter madness, Sirena didn’t see the last wave that tore her from the rocks, slammed her back into them and knocked her unconscious. She slipped below the surface, a tiny speck in the vast, violent ocean, knowing that she would die completely unnoticed; utterly alone.

 

Jake heard distinct cries of distress and knew her in an instant. He grabbed the torch in time to see her red hair flashing in white-hot, jagged electric, and shaking her tiny fist in determined resignation even as she went under, time and again. He ran to starboard and leapt astern, with his mind racing, I knew you were real! I knew it! Jake dropped the torch and dove overboard, yelling, “Hang on, Sirena! I’m coming!”

 

By Wildfire8470

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