a gothic fiction


I knelt on the bed and opened up the windows to let more of the hot afternoon air in. A blackbird was singing. Maybe it will sound strange, but I pulled off my t-shirt and then carefully peeled off Indigo’s dress, throwing it as far away as possible. I lay down behind her and wrapped my arms around her small body. She felt cool and kind of insubstantial. I thought if I held her too tightly she might dissolve away and leave me holding nothing at all. It occurred to me that an ambulance might be appropriate, but instead I just watched the tiny rise and fall of her chest under my darker arm, and listened to the soft whoosh of her pulse right up against my ear. Outside the door, I could hear the sound of nails being driven into wood but it seemed very far away. I shut my eyes. Skin against skin I felt I could pass my awakeness to her by some kind of mysterious osmosis. All the terror of the last weeks was drifting off and I had a strange feeling that our breathing had become one, as if I were drawing air through Indigo’s mouth and she was breathing out through mine. I wanted to stay awake for her, but gradually, the rhythm of her soft breaths was taking me over and carrying me, breath by breath, into sleep.

– from Indigo https://opheliasfiction.wordpress.com/indigo/


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