Fata Morgana
The alabaster Christ was hanged on the tree bark. To reach his height you had to climb a slight soiled slope. The path was leading to the long wooden seats arrayed in a parade position with a passage parting them. Behind the last row there were two cut trunks resembling beer barrels. Like a waterless gulf, the flat area of the forest was housing an outdoor church which sole's proof of existence was the Crucifix on the tree.
Harry observed the location with a sweaty sleek forehead. His eyes were half-closed, the sun was rising crimson. Despite him wearing his lilac shades he knew that dawn was red as blood warming their flesh. The sun resembled a speck, the bleeding pupil of a Berserker. Was it perhaps the spyglass of the Flying Dutchman? Had he reached this land seeking a coveted soil to walk?
He wandered with Nora in the plain church. They followed the dip path, their feet sunk in the dump ground and the soft leaves. She stepped her smudged strapped sandals on the fat tree roots. Her mouth reached Christ's feet. The taste was tart, she turned to the dawning beyond the desert lands surrounding them.
She held his chin to look at her, Harry strayed with averted eyes. Perhaps this speck was a jungle of stars? He tried to perceive it, her arm touched his shoulder. She teased the silver hoop on his ear. She saw a latent agony on his mouth, he didn't dare to speak it. He was considering it but wasn't courageous to learn.
Harry witnessed in his shades the reflection of the red sun approaching; in that detached dimension of doom he supposed this speck was a brave land that sparkles when the light of the fantastic is poured on it – it was a floating city carried by swans and pelicans' beaks in golden threads. It was an emerald vision.
She looks at him with an archaic smile whipping him. She kissed his shoulder, he searched for the sky and found an arched forest dome. They were never born in the flesh. Harry had a bizarre desire for an unseen terror. The blood was Nora's flesh.
She touched his bare chest, his vest was grudging, the fringes were sticking tentacles. He stiffened her palm. She wanted to embrace him, he was trying to avoid her. He wiped his liquid face – glistering and crippled. They were distant from the worlds he believed would protect him. Her breath was harsh like the earth they crossed.
He was trembling. He was numb at the sound of their breathing. Harry struggled to understand why the sun had this shine for him. It rises for them, this was the darkest side of the earth. Why was it coming after them?
He frowned repulsed as she was forcing him to look. She combed his parted untied hair, she tried to remove his vest. He let her. Maybe the speck was a glorious Topkapi, a geisha's umbrella twirling like a firework until its flameous light blinds him. No, he thought watching the reflection in his shades, it was something else.
He gripped her arms, if he could pierce his finger through he would. The speck swirled, it was becoming a windmill. For God's sake, how can it be a windmill? The shade was rippling in the lilac shades, he eyes stung and watered.
There was the last temptation.
Harry put his hand on her forehead and leaned it. She smiled with a half-open thirsty mouth. What he was seeing was the ivory of her eyes as if they were the white sails of the windmills. They were turning... turning... turning. They never ceased! He hunched his lips on her jaw barechested. He was released in her holding and hugged her with heavy eyelids. A pomegranate exploding was his heart as the ruby seeds roll among his fingers creating a trace of blood springing, fading and washing his desire. It stains his soul with hatred and corruption.
He was tired to take her hand, to caress her face. He didn't know if he could ever be tender anymore. She undressed her breasts, she pulled her creased trousers to her knees. She was standing half-naked, half-dressed beside him as he was watching the dawning sun.

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SNUFF (h.s.)
Mystery / ThrillerThey traveled across Route 66 leaving behind them a peculiar trace... A trace of blood! This road trip was nothing like he ever dreamed of. After all, his girl was a pornstar with the mouth of a poet and strange things happen in the mind of a troub...