Fragments from the Veil (7)

After Lindie’s left, I keep thinking about her — her freckled skin ... her light blond hair ... her friendly voice — and she’s got that hue on her skin, like she’s been kissed by the Sun.

I whisper her name to myself — “Lindie” — it reminds me of Cinderella, for some reason. But Lindie wears Birkenstock sandals, not glass slippers; she’s not a princess, but a nurse ... I like that.

My body has taken a real beating. At the clinic, I was given Tylenol for the pain — it has helped. Still, there are moments when I feel lightheaded. My face feels swollen all the time.

Despite my thoughts about Lindie, I see Joseph hitting me — whenever I close my eyes — and I remember how it felt when my head bounced against the floor.

I hear him yelling ... I see the anger in his eyes ... and it makes me frustrated ... and angry — but I’m too weak for anger.

I see the scar on my body — it’s straight and neat, and it runs from my chest to my pubic region. It’s not just skin deep — the scans showed there’s more scarring inside me.

That light ... the words ... where did they come from? And what did they want?

I think I know — I listen to the stories people tell about them ... I also write about them ... and I post about them on my blog — they probably don’t like the attention.

Is this why they took me — so I would know how others feel ... to punish me ... to haunt me?

What they want, that's a mystery no one’s solved ... though theories abound. At least, I’ll now be able to post about my own experience — it’s just frustrating there’s not much I can say about the experience itself ... just the aftermath.

I check on my phone — I want to review what’s on my blog to see if anything resembles my experience — but before I open the browser, I see I’ve received some messages ... some calls ... some emails.

One email is from Eliza, a new contact. Her case is different and unrelated to mine — I tell myself — because the universe is full of mysteries ... or because people want to believe in something. She wants to know when we can talk on the phone. This case should be entertaining and simple enough, I tell myself.

I enter my response: “Hi, Eliza! Sorry I missed your call. I’m very interested in your case. How about I call you tomorrow evening, and then we go from there?” I click send.

I then remember that, at the parking lot at the clinic where I met Kristen for dinner, the words wanted me to answer when Eliza called, but I refused. Have they punished me?

I struggle picking up myself from the couch. I climb the stairs slowly, holding onto the wooden handrail because I don’t want to fall — maybe I should have asked Lindie to help me upstairs before she left.

In the bathroom, I turn on the shower and undress while the water warms up. The steam fogs the mirror and makes the bathroom feel like a tropical forest.

In the shower, the water cascades over me, warm and soothing. I wash my body with lavender bodywash — my hair, with mint tea shampoo and conditioner.

These things relax me — still, the bruise on my face feels tender ... the headache comes and goes ... and I keep rehearsing the events, like a horror film replaying in my mind.

I can’t remember anything of what happened after the light or before I woke up. I only remember finding myself in the room, on the bed, naked, and scarred.

Meanwhile, my car was some fifteen minutes away from home — with my clothes, wallet, and keys in it. Did I bring myself home, or did someone else bring me here? But the front door was latched ... from the inside ...

I know the answer. It wasn’t me ... it wasn’t someone else ... it was them — whoever they are ... whatever they are. I heard their words ... I saw their light ... they did this to me.

I come out of the shower and pat my body dry with the towel — Mandy’s favorite towel set. I don’t like it — it’s too smooth and too silky to absorb any water. “Damned useless towel!” I yell, throwing to the floor.

Lindie said she’s met Mandy — I don’t think Mandy ever mentioned her. She’s friendly, caring, and warm — like Mandy used to be ... years ago.

I apply a small amount of product on my hair — A Curl Can Dream — and blow-dry it on low with the diffuser. I look at myself in the mirror ... my face needs some care.

I trim my nose hairs and shape my eyebrows — plucking them with tweezers. I shave my face with Jeremy’s gel and blades — not because I care about politics, but because RazorEmporium on YouTube seems to like it better. Then, I apply the aftershave.

I clean my ears with a spiral ear cleaner. I clip my nails and toenails, then file them.

These rituals help me clear my mind ... they help me stay out of my head ... they help me not remember. Nevertheless, the scar bothers me. It doesn't itch ... it doesn’t hurt ... I can’t even feel it... but I’m aware of it.

I trim my pubes with the clippers.

As I apply a layer of lotion to my body — unscented, hypoallergenic, creamy — I think of Lindie. I recall her toes, her hair, her small breasts — and I get hard. That’s when I see ... not just a bloody dot, but the piercing of a needle ... right on the head of my dick. “What the hell!” I exclaim in a whisper. “Those bastards!” I yell.

I use a mirror to check myself. I find similar needle piercings on my scrotum and my perineum. I am haunted by the thought that I have been invaded. What were they doing?

I feel anxious ... sick ... confused. I need to tell someone ... someone who can hear what I have to say ... someone who understands me ... someone who can tell me it will be alright ... but there’s no one.

Mandy has left me ... though I left her first — and Mona didn’t come to me to tell me she was pregnant — she went to her dad instead, and he beat the shit out of me — and Kristen ... she’s probably making love to her boyfriend right now. I have no one.

I only have my new friend. I’m talking about Lindie, not Marcellus. Marcellus is a friend too, but not one I want to cuddle with. Still, I wonder what he’d say — how he and his religion would make any sense of all this. I’m supposed to see him on Thursday — we’ll see what he says ... I know he’ll ask.

I apply lotion on my dick, and it gets hard after a few strokes. with a few strokes. I’m relieved to see it still works — maybe that’s all that matters — that I’m whole, and that my dick works — though my body’s been carved up and beaten up.

I take a few slow breaths — “In time I’ll heal ... this too shall pass,” I tell myself.

I put on my light grey robe — soft, warm, and plush like a good towel ought to be — the blue one needs to be washed from the dirt, the blood, and the tears.

I put on a pair of Mandy’s fluffy socks ... pink, with white grips. These things make me feel warm, comfortable, reclaimed ... and aroused.

I head over to the kitchen, leaving on only the lights I need to see. Usually, the children would be running around at this time, getting ready to go to bed — but they’re not here now ... everything’s quiet. Of course, I’ll see them again ... soon ... they need their dad — I’ll call Mandy, and we’ll work things out.

I know the doctor said no alcohol, but I need some wine — red wine and charcutiers.

I keep the lights off in the living room and light a candle there — balsam and cedar scent. I sit on the round oversized couch and set the tray with the food and the wine next to me.

I start with the wine — it’s cold, slightly fruity, and refreshing. I have crackers with Colby, gouda, sharp cheddar, and pepperjack; I have prosciutto, salami, and pepperoni; I have green olives and walnuts. I take my time savoring each bite and tasting the wine.

I can’t believe I’m about to have another child — my fourth child — and not with my wife ... but with her sister, Mona. My second boy or my third girl — either way, the child will need me ... just like Clara, Jude, and Nell need me.

Mona will need me too — she'll need Mandy and me. Already, they are bonding at their father’s home. I just need to be patient — in time, things will fall in place, and we’ll become the family we’re meant to be. Love will prevail, I assure myself.

I see my feet — they look cute and cuddly in pink socks — so did Mona’s.

I whisper her name — “Mona.” It is a singular, elegant, and promising name. I had forgotten the whole thing between us; we had agreed it wouldn’t happen again — though it kept happening until Mandy and the children returned home.

Her olive skin ... her brown eyes ... her deep brown hair ... her Roman nose. She had come to visit, but Mandy and the children were gone.

I made her pasta, and I served her wine. She loved my cooking, and she loved the wine.

We sat on the couch to watch a movie of her choosing — Far and Away. I had seen it years ago when I was thirteen or something. It was the first time I saw Nicole ... she was to me then — in that movie — the epitome of beauty. I couldn’t stop thinking about her in forever. I kept wondering who she was and how a woman could be so beautiful.

But that night, instead of watching the movie, I made love to Mona.

I untied her canvas shoes ... took off her white frilly socks ... and rubbed her feet with lotion — as I’ve often done for Mandy.

She smiled with bashful desire — the gloss of wine was in her eyes, and its blush was on her face.

I rubbed her toes ... her arches ... and her ankles ... with lotion — breathing in the smell of her feet and feeling their softness in my hands. The scent and the feel made me hard.

I feel again — just now — the stir between my legs. Looks like I’ve awoken the dragon!

I chuckle — I’ve only read the first book since I’m not much into fiction — and I couldn’t stand the show — the book was way better.

I open my robe — my dragon is awake and aching ... for Mona’s touch ... for her feet ... for her lips — both sets.

I see my body ... wounded ... scarred ... violated — but it’s still sacred ... it’s still beautiful.

I take my left hand to my dragon's neck — the shaft — and my right hand to my scrotum. I again admire how my feet look in Mandy’s pink socks — I wish she were here to tame the dragon with her soles.

I stroke him gently ... with gentle strokes. “They crossed the galaxy to test you ... to find out what you can do!” I laugh hysterically ... and after I’m done laughing, I apply myself to the pleasure and the pain.

“Mona!” I whisper — my fingers take the precum leaking from my urethra ... it’s warm and slimy ... and it tastes sweet with a pinch of salt and fish. I spread it in circles over my foreskin ... then directly on the glans. I rub the frenulum ... which aches for Mandy’s tongue.

Lindie ... her smile, her hair, her toes — she wiped my tears ... she wiped my face ... she wiped my knees ... she wiped my feet. She saw the scar ... she touched it... she saw my dick ... maybe she’ll touch me next time. I shouldn’t be thinking about Lindie.

I should be thinking about Mandy ... and Mona ... though Lindie is welcome to the pride — each is each is lovely ... each is unique.

I made love to Mona on this couch — I pulled off her thong ... and licked her virgin pussy. I spread her own fluids over her tender parts, sliding two fingers in and out ... in and out.

I kissed her clitoris ... licked it ... sucked it. Her breathing became heavy — her taste was on my lips — and she moaned for me with a mermaid’s voice ... I couldn’t resist.

I moan too — my dragon is on the verge of pouring out his gift. My breathing is now deep and heavy. I remember how it felt inside her ... Slippery ... soft ... warm.

At last, the dragon aches with pleasure!

I roll to the edge of the couch just in time to let him pour his milk offering on the floor, where it’ll be easier to clean.

I see it ... and I lay relieved. I’m exhausted … lightheaded … and aching. What a mess I’ve made! Because I’m a mess ... because my life’s a mess.

Author’s Note

This story is part of Fragments from the Veil, a mythic cycle of desire, rupture, and strange illumination. It deepens the journey through trauma and tentative care, exploring the fragile moments between despair and hope.

If you’re new to this world, you may wish to begin with Chapter 1, or simply let this fragment stand on its own.

Related Chapters

Fragments of the Veil -- Chapter 6

Fragments of the Veil -- Chapter 8 (coming soon)