Date: Mon, 25 May 1998 19:21:58 -0400 From: Rhoni Lake Subject: NEW: St. Vitas's Dance Title: St. Vitus's Dance Author: Rhondda Lake Archive: anywhere Category: V, A, MSR? Rating: R for sexual situations and one very naughty word. Summery: Thoughts in darkness Disclaimer: Like it's predecessor, this story doesn't name names or anything of the sort. So I disclaim nothing. But I do declare my own insanity. St. Vitus's Dance by Rhondda Lake I like the dark. I like it because it hides so much. Both the good and the bad. In the dark you can be anybody or anything. In the dark no one can see you. No one can watch you bleed. There's a streetlight not far from the bedroom window. It steals the perfect solitude of absolute blackness. I lay here, pretending to sleep, and I watch the razor thin outline of you. The streetlight paints a thin nimbus of light around your gentle curves, but with your back to me it reveals nothing. That's right, it's a halo of light. Something usually reserved for angels in paintings. Maybe it's fitting. You are my salvation. The only thing I can truly count on in this life is you, the only dependable constant in my world. You're my guardian angel. Too bad I had to clutch at you and, desperately trying to save myself, drag you down to Hell with me. I admit my own selfishness. It's pretty damn pathetic, I know. I don't have anything left without my tarnished angel. Too bad your halo is tinfoil and your robe this thin cotton bed sheet. Your wings, the tool of flight, your wings are made of blood, thanks to me. I know you'd scoff at being considered angelic. I also know you are all too human. Mortal with fragile flesh and bone, to hold up not only yourself, but me as well. Earlier I lay here in the silence, cradling this mortal flesh against me, reassuring myself of the heartbeat beneath pearlescent skin. I heard you weeping. I felt the tiny tremors of desolation against my chest and pads of my fingers. I told you that I love you, and you... you returned the sentiment. Somehow it seems giving me those words were harder for you than giving me your body. Why is it that we wound each other even as we make love? The passion was tainted by the taste of blood and the too-sharp edge of pain. Why do we hurt one another even in love? This was only the second time I've held you while you wept. Your saline tears stinging into the wound you gave me in the heat of passion. The cruel stabs of hurt seemed petty suffering for my transgressions so I bore them without complaint. Your tears hurt more than that physical pain, however. You think I am oblivious, don't you? I know how much this, us, frightens you. You think we've lost something by taking this step. I can't make you understand we have nothing left to lose. They took everything from us. They control everything. Everything but this. If we let them take this from us, then we really have lost it all. What pitiful and wretched creatures are we, our only victory counted in the sweat soaked writhing of bodies in the dark. Perhaps it is atonement I seek. If I can make you squirm long enough, scream loud enough, come hard enough I can somehow restore all that I've taken from you. Make three wishes and I'll wave my magic wand. Ha. After that bout twenty minutes ago my magic wand still isn't up for another wave. What is it about the male psyche that makes us think we can solve problems with our dicks? Ok, that might be an unfair generalization. I guess the real question is what made me think that if I could just fuck what I feel for you into you, it would somehow heal the wounds. I feel like that Dutch kid in the story. You know the one. He sees a crack in the dike and sticks his finger in to try to stop the sea from bursting through. But then another hole forms, and another, and no matter what the poor kid does you know he can't keep the dike from crumbling. He's got the whole sea working against him. In this case the sea is despair and pain, and it wasn't my finger I tried plugging the hole with. I can hear you breathing. The rhythm is soothing. Shallow and restful. It's close to lulling me to sleep as well. But then who'd be awake to ward off the nightmares? That's it. If I lay my head right here on your shoulder I can hear your heartbeat. Mine is louder, it's in my ear, after all. But yours is there. Strong and steady. You are strong and steady. Yes, you are afraid. Yes, you have moments of weakness. Yes, you are human, with our terrible capacity for error and for hurt. But beneath it all you are strong and steady. Maybe we should stay like this. Spooned together. Ever hear of the stick parable? One stick alone snaps. But two bound together is harder to break. Not impossible, but certainly harder. We've got to keep in mind our capacity to be broken, lest we forget and not guard against it. Jesus, why do I feel we've suddenly been tossed into the mad whirl of St. Vitus's Dance? We're left to spin and sway until our feet are bloody ribbons and our strength gives out, lost in the madness of some force we can neither see nor identify. I'm afraid. Yes, damnit, I fear for us both. We're both already so bloodied by this jig that we lean on one another trying to support each other, only to find it adds weight to both of us, and more and more of us is eaten away or exhausted beyond repair. Yet still, I can't let you go. I need you too much, love you too much. Without you, I think I might cease to be. I'm the Velveteen Rabbit. I'm real only so long as you care for me, love me. Take that away and I'm nothing more than a suit stuffed with fluff. A broken and worn out toy destined to be tossed away. The heat from your body warms me as the fire of your soul sustains me. Can you feel that in your sleep? My hand on your breast? Yes, I think you can. Your nipple has become tight and rubbery against my palm. No, I won't wake you. It seems the only peace for either of us is dreamless sleep. I'd never deprive you of that. I just need to hold you. To assure myself you are real. I need to feel your heartbeat as well as hear it. See, as long as I hear and feel that rhythm, I can face anything. I know I'm alive, because you are. Maybe it's just for one more day, one more week, one more year. But there is assurance in it. Comfort. I only wish I knew how to comfort you as well. Fin --- Feedback ALWAYS welcome.