Monday, October 26, 2015


After the storm blew over, in the lull that followed, when the wind died down and the night came alive and the sky was star-bright, they followed the moonlit path, hand-in-hand, back down to the white sand beach at the water’s edge, murmuring that maybe they were actually at the edge of the sky—the lake was a field of diamonds, mirroring the sky, cut only by the path that continued ahead of them, a bright white reflection of the moonshine—and if they were to follow that path they might end up in the heavens; but in that way that only lovers know, they knew it was only a flight of fancy and that soon they would be made to fall back to earth, back to the gritty sand beneath their feet and the gritty reality of days spent working and nights spent on chores and money spent on feeding mouths of small children with no time to dream; knowing this, they determined to make the most of the moment, to create memories that would linger longer when they woke; it was with this thought in mind that Michael stepped away and smoothed a large, almost-square patch in the sand, revealing the dry sand beneath, and then piled up a long, low mound along one edge, and gently laid the blanket over the top to create a bed for the two of them, and came back to stand by his lover’s side, hand-in-hand once more; with their senses amplified by the expectation of what was to come and an unwillingness to lose that tension or rush the night away, they admired the view once more, breathing in the fresh wet smell of the forest and the clear, cool smell of the night; then, unable to bear the heat of the hand in his own, or the heat rising within him, Michael turned and raised that hand to press the palm of it against his lips; the movement drew his lover closer to face him, so Michael could lean in and press his hot forehead against Daniel’s cool one, and press his other hand into Daniel’s lower back and draw him in still closer so their toes touched and their bodies pressed tightly together and—at last!—they kissed.

About this piece

I hope it's evident: the goal of this piece was to write a long, single-sentence narrative. It's effectively the opposite of Intruder. I picked the title because the characters are sure of what they want as they stand on the shore—yes, a homophone!

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