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(Continued from where we left off last time)
“Safe….safe,” he hissed as her words stung him again, tenderly but painfully ripping at his ears as the wind howled around him. He looked up and pawed the air. “You made a promise and you broke it when you left me. And I’m supposed to feel good? To still be in debt to you?”
A faint ripple of mirth had finally breathed past his cracked lips.
Soulless sighs washed over him from the entrance of the cave as he saw a slender arm reaching forward. His eyes had gone into a blur, into a shimmy, and he crossed the veil between this world and the next. Or
so he thought. But the shape grew brighter as the hand kept reaching. A slender hand with bruises, a young had but callused from a rough lifestyle,
The same hand that had caressed him unconditionally and gently, sweeping away his misery.
“Why now of all nights? What do you want?”
“Your faith left you,” the pained voice replied, “and so I came back. Besides, you keep on crying about everything. You were stronger as a child than you are as a man.”
Gritting his teeth as best he could, he reached out at the wall as the other hand grabbed him firmly and shifted gently inside. “Really?” came his sarcastic growl as he watched her body stepping lightly into his hellish home.
Moving back, he saw his handiwork.
Still bleeding terribly from her half-stitched, half-torn vulva, she knelt before him.
The hair was now immensely long, matted, flowing down to her buttocks in a hellish cascade with dried blood, mud and oily grime. Pale cheeks, pale but spectacularly beautiful, bore tear stains from crying for years with no hope. Her skin didn’t sag, but it looked deathly, salty white.
Standing painfully, not raising her head, she replied, “Yes my son, that’s pretty much it. You’re still trapped in your memories. There’s a world out there that hates our very being. I never told that wretched place about you but I would expect more knowledge from my child.”
She groped around the cave, looking for a place to lie down. Kicking off her sandals she leaned against the right wall.
“Your child,” he replied tersely, cupping the shifting face in his huge hands, “is still living in the stone shell you made for him years ago. If only you were still here. You had to leave me for all the men in Malayadesha, didn’t you? Or where was it truly you went? And I just want to know why.”
The voice that replied him was a serpentine hiss, but no ordinary snake could sound like she did. It had never failed to rasp at his soul, a steely, jagged, rusted blade that could flay a writhing beast as painfully as possible. He had been among the demons of the night, but what was this? This, this was like facing the mightiest Naga King himself, a dreadful monster with many heads who could kill a thousand men and not even break a sweat.
Even the reptilian eyes, the smooth and slender nude belly and limbs, all screamed, “Snake” at him.
She laughed like she could hear his thoughts.
Silvery but chilling him to the bone. “You have lived so long in the dark pit of your memories.”
“Memories of when you left. But tell me,” he circled her as she spread her legs out vulgarly-making a gush of excitement throb through his organ as she did, “are you really there? Or just my memories here to torment me?”