Book of Us - Short Lesbian Love Stories

Afia's Scarficie

Afia stands on a small wooden stage, in a small pokey basement room, standing a couple of heads taller than the audience. An air conditioning unit fastened to the ceiling blows an irritating jet of cold air at the base of her neck. The audience ranges from flamboyantly dressed to downright unassuming. She holds a piece of paper in her hand: a piece of a notebook she has torn out. On it, the words describing one of the greatest heartbreaks imaginable.

Still she feels cold air on her neck. The audience shift in their seats with some impatience. She's been standing near-frozen for at least a couple of minutes now. Still she feels cold air on her neck. A drop of water slides down the back of her ear and falls onto her shoulder blades. She doesn't shiver. She feels she is covered all over in cold, tiny droplets and there is no longer any point in shaking them off. She embraces the warming buzz of the freezing temperature on her skin and continues onwards. She sidesteps a large plant with huge leaves up to her knees. The grass all around her is thick but sways out of her way as she passes.

The moon is high in the sky, lighting parts of the ground and the tops of the tropic trees. She is in a rainforest. It is so cold though. Cold like a Northern European country. Like London on a mid-winter's morning.

Her hands stroke the tops of plants she passes. She feels no danger here. Just the presence of the moon, the wild and the silence. Around her neck is a mini clock face that was fashioned into a pendant long ago. It is smashed and no longer works, but it's charm remains due to its beautiful crafting.

Afia reaches a wall of grand trees that tower far above her. She looks up and it begins to strain her neck, but she can see the top branches tickling the sky, backdropped by black clouds on a grey, sunless sky.

She begins to feel between the thick roots, many as thick as her arm, some even as thick as her body. She grows inpatient and begins to scrabble against the foliage covering them. She is seeking something. She finds it, a door. A funny door of tree roots that part when touched in just the right way. She pulls with all her body's strength and parts the roots, wedges herself into the gap it creates and then pushes with all her remaining strength to squeeze through.

She succeeds, but trips on the other side having lost her balance, and falls into a pile of limbs on the floor. The ground is wet here; water still hangs in the air. Moss clinging to the ground provides some mild comfort against her skin. Suddenly, a wail pierces the air, somewhere off to the distance.

Almost as if in response, the trees and plants around her sway and sigh. She pushes up off the floor and almost falls back over in haste. She stands, feet shoulder width apart, big brown eyes wide and staring about her in all directions. Her eyebrows knit close over her eyes as she tries to focus her hearing. Is it her? Is it who she is trying to find? The sound trails off to silence. She takes the mini watch pendant between her right thumb and forefinger and pinches it slightly. Her heart leaps and somersaults. Her stomach hollows out and becomes the home of frantic, sick butterflies flying erratically into her sides and behind her bully button. She swallows and exhales.

She begins to march toward the sound. She does not stroke the tops of plants now, instead she throws them out the way. Ruined old buildings lie in her path and she walks through them, seeing but not seeing them. All she focuses on is that noise. Liquid mud snakes down her arms and some flecks of mud are strewn across her clothes, face and chest. Her mini watch pendant begins to smack smack smack against her chest as she breaks into a run. The noise, it was coming from the direction from that tall, overbearing tree striking into the sky in the distance. It has a haunting silhouette against the night sky, branches and leaves hang off at downward angles, as if they have been pulled and broken into place.

Boots squelching, muscles aching, skin vibrating and eyes wild she breaks into a clearing and halts. The tree, it is just ahead behind a ruined building. This was once a village or a town, long since ransacked and abandoned, as were all the other ruins she passed through earlier.

She remembers. This was where she lived. Her beautiful Rachela lived here with her family. When they first met, it was in another clearing not further than a mile from here. They were countryside, small-town girls who met by chance and immediately sparks flew, although they had had no idea what it had meant when they had felt that powerful jolt when they first locked eyes-on-eyes. Days passed easily and too fast when they lay in the forest together in secret places only they could find. No one knew their treasured secret: each other.

And then one day, Rachela had stopped coming to meet her. Afia had wondered the fields and parts of the rainforest they had frequented. But to no avail. She cried for days, then weeks, even months. Until –

A bush rustling and the sound of a twig breaking slapped Afia back into the present moment. She reached down to her right ankle and withdrew a homemade knife: a sharp metal blade fastened to a solid wooden handle by tightly wound wire.

A heavy downpour began to attack the forest. The clatter of water against leaves, bark and stone rang loud in the air. Afia stayed near motionless, poised, knife ready to swing. The rain soaked into her hair and clothes, weighing her down. But still, she held poise. Out from the bushes leapt a black, huge beast. It barked and stood on all fours staring at her, baring its teeth. She held the knife, aiming the tip at its forehead. It glared and glowered, growled some more, and then began to step away, slowly, always staring at her. Until it turned its head and ran through the foliage, never to be seen again.

Another recollection: that huge dog, it had helped to guard Rachela's village. She remembered it always sitting near the entrance. Rachela had told her it was unfriendly to strangers, but loving to the village people that it knew. Afia relaxed. The dog, just like the buildings, was a remnant of a happier time passed. She sheathed her knife at her ankle, and turned her attention back to the tree.

There had been no more screams. She shivered. A small stream now ran down her back from her hair. She was rinsed clean of all the mud that had covered her. She slowly began her approach of the tree. She pulled away the bushes that were in the way. Their branches were stiff and sharp; they scratched and scraped her as she passed. Now she was at the base of the tree. Overhead it rose tall and looked down upon her head. By the tree was... nothing. But a leather home-made satchel. In her dreams, an image had been haunting her for weeks, that at the base of this tree, she would find her love Rachela, the eyes of her beautiful face dead, and her body lifeless. That scream, had she really heard it, or had it been a projection of her subconscious' s imagination? She jogged up to the satchel and pulled it open. Inside she found a notebook with a leather cover. She pried apart the pages, her fingers causing damp imprints on the edges. In the very middle of the book where it naturally split, Afia found the words "Come find me..." in Rachela's handwriting. On the right hand page she saw a haphazardly drawn map. She depicted some boundaries, perhaps of the forest and fields, perhaps some building outlines, and an "R", supposedly showing Rachela's location. Afia gasped in relief, and held the pages to her heart and sighed, being careful not to get them wet lest it ruin them. She closed the notebook and tucked it into a pocked in her quarter-length trousers.

To no notice of Afia, the mini pocket watch pendant began to tick.

Author's note: This story was inspired by the highly atmospheric and artistically made video game called Senua's Sacrifice. Is this a dream? Or is this psychosis? Or is this happening exactly as Afia experiences it? These are all things I wondered as I wrote this, following Afia through this nightmare. The ending, I think, is an illustration of how I have felt about those I have loved up to this point. I can earnestly and genuinely love someone, but they are always one step away from my grasp, even if they love me back. And it haunts me... haha. Let me know what you think with a review :)