Trees

The autumn wind tears through my clothes as cleanly as a sword; biting my skin.

I shiver.

How can I not?

The night clings to me, pitch black and suffocating as I wait. Of all the places in the world to meet… why here? As if I’m not already having second thoughts already, the darkness here simply allows my conscience to pierce my mind even sharper; the constant hammering of the possible consequences echoing in my mind as clearly as the tolling bells signifying the arrival of the witching hour.

The miniature hurricane whips round me even harder as I look around into the silence.

Dark ominous bodies surround me; whispering, as wrinkled and decrepit as a centurions face. Their towering imposing bodies shadow me, immersing the clear sky into a murky swamp. Their arms stretch, some looming around me, others held close; to themselves, as if protecting or hiding some precious burden.

It’s an odd feeling that courses through me, but as I walk in the seemingly empty plain, devoid of any other human form, I feel as if I am invading a private affair. I can almost feel them watching me. They seem to follow my every move, studying, calculating. Friend or foe?

The breeze dies down, and the whispering finally stops. Everything is still. For a moment I wonder whether I have stepped into an parallel universe where time has simply come to a halt. I feel alien, an outsider. Large and clumsy, as my every move echoes into the night, disrupting the strange anticipatory silence.

A stage has appeared in front of me, spotlighted by an almost unearthly light that illuminates a small clearing through the swamp and seas of black. It may just be a fleeting fancy but I could swear that the giant figures are leaning even closer, as if straining to get closer.

You can almost hear the names Oberon and Titania rippling through the crowds as they group together to view a rare, delicate sight. The emotion that encases every being around is fragile; so very fragile, held lightly by loose threads that threaten to unravel at any moment. And I wait, silent and in awe.

For a second, I feel like I’m a child again.

If only I could be so innocent.

A play is about to begin, but even as I feel it start, it fades; almost immediately, as an intruders footsteps break through the sight’s encompassing hold on me.

The stage lights dim.

I look up to view the stranger on the scene, the reason for the dissipation of the beauty I had spied on. I look, even though I know instinctively who it is. Only he could break through a such a precious moment with such disregard; so violent it almost borders contempt.

Green eyes, as murky as a swamp, pierce me.

“You coming?”

The word resound around me, akin to the previous tolling of the bell; condemning me to the spot. I simply nod. I know there’s no turning back if I do, but then again it could be argued there had been no turning back for me since the day I first opened my eyes and saw my mirror image.

It’s almost painfully amusing how two people can look so alike yet be so different.

Like a rush, I can feel the night surround me again, heavy and stifling as I follow his footsteps; as I always have done and I always will do, wherever they take me.

Maybe it’s just me but I can almost feel a pitiful caress of the breeze on my cheeks as I turn round one last time.

And as I watch I can’t help but smile as I see the stage alit, now slightly blocked by the shadows as I walk further and further away.

The play has begun again.

Fin

A.N – wrote this for an English assignment where we were meant to describe a meeting in the woods and the twin whore in me emerged and came up with this. Take it as slash if you prefer (I know I do) x