(C) Copyright Carey Newton 2007 All Rights Reserved.

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The inspiration for this story was a photograph I once saw of a
naked girl lying on an uprooted tree trunk cast up out of the sea
onto a deserted beach. It is an imaginative attempt to discover
who she is and how she came to be there. In some ways it is an
experiment in which I deliberately aimed for a dreamlike, almost
poetic, quality. Whether I have succeeded is for you the reader
to judge.

Dreams and Loves Images (MF rape nc)

It is a hazy summers evening and the cool winds drifting in from
the sea breathe upon the drying leaves to a sound like the
rustling of the fabled Jarnvid wood and its bright metallic
sheen. Across the sapphire waters the pale sun sheds yellow
tears, that spill among the clouds in a bright and liquid symbol
to mark the passing of another day.

The gradually lengthening shadows reach toward the night, the
first faint sign of which is a single low star as pale as the sky
is blue. All around stillness reigns. Beneath, the green of the
forest spills down to merge with the yellow sands at the water's
edge, while behind, the tree covered slopes rise up majestically
to pierce the clouds cresting the hill tops. In the midst of this
profusion the house, its trestled features caressed by a
patchwork quilt of light and shade, sits alone and apart,
inwardly contemplative of itself.

Dusk, the time when day and night are held in perfect balance,
lasts for what to human eyes is but a moment's peace. All the
world seems subtly changed, transformed by delicate shades of
mist and colour, as Nature reasserts herself assuming an air of
quiet reflective melancholy.

For the shadowed sky turns purple, the stars burn a little more
fierce and the house on the hill adds its own lights to the
transient reflections in the sea. Soon the scattered remnants of
the day are gone and, in their place the full-brimmed goddess of
the night stretches out her ample arms to cover all and weave a
spell of darkness to lull tired minds from sight.

*

As time speeds apace the stars emerge in the fullness of their
youth and the night becomes complete as the lights in the house
dim. Across the distant waters the clouds gather for what seems
an age creating a brooding sense of mystery in front of the world
upon the shore.

Thoughts taking shape from our minds lightly inhabit a place on
the edge of our knowing as, deep among the trees, the house lies
bathed in shadow, an indistinct web that flickers and passes with
the motion of the wind in the branches above. It is old and moss
grows on the damp stone walls and ivy  clings above the windows;
and we watch in the glass as an reflected image of the moon rises
up from the sea, spilling a silvery light across the water, to
give an added dimension to the night.

Inside the house the shadows soften in her room as the moon comes
and peeps above the window sill while she sleeps, pure and simple
with  moonbeams in her hair. Her hair, which lies upon the
pillow, black threaded with silver, in disarray adorns her face.
Her lips part as she lightly breathes and her skin glows at the
touch of the moon as it follows the gentle curves of her body
above the sheet that covers her hips. For a brief moment she lies
enshrined on the bed, her face serene and childlike. Then there
is a movement at the edge of our vision and a shadow crosses the
light to plunge her into darkness and to night.

Entering the room, he stands silently beside the bed and looks
down at her. Reaching out he pulls the covering away from her
body and she lies open beneath his gaze, a ghost of a smile
lingering on her lips, as if in response to some elusive dream or
passing happy memory. In the moonlight we see him to be no more
than a boy with a hesitant desire in his eyes as he slips the
straps of her nightdress from her shoulders and slides the fine
material down, laying bare the softness of her skin.

Her breasts, pale and firm, rise with the regular motion of her
breathing as he stands naked, transfixed by the silver crucifix
that lies in the valley between. For a moment this halts him,
then he gently unclasps it from behind her neck and lifts it away
with an emotion almost akin to reverence. Cautiously his fingers
caress her breast and the nipple responds, as in the recesses of
her mind she turns to meet his touch.

Seeing her movement, a look of determination comes over his face,
and using the knife in his other hand he slits her night-dress
apart and lays it open at her side. The deft touch of the moon
still warms her skin, exposing her mercilessly to his eyes and
enhancing beauty where perhaps it would have been better for her
to have had none.

He climbs onto the bed, kneeling between her legs, and her
perfume envelopes him with a sweet and heady fragrance almost
overpowering in her femininity, as their bodies touch, living and
clash. With childlike innocence she sighs and makes way beneath
him waking a little as she sensuously opens her legs wider to
bring them up around his waist.

As he enters her she holds him close, his hand resting on her
thigh, her dark hair gleaming in the moonlight. Together they
begin to move as one and she, her mind still intent on following
her dream, responds submissive to his touch, casting herself wide
as their passions rise.

With a pleasure that is born of rich pain, she lifts up on a sea
of joy, giving herself completely and uncaring. Her body glistens
in the moonlight and her eyes open as her back arcs and she cries
out as she presses near, swept away to such heights that when she
falls back to sensibility frail weakness replaces passion and
waking dreams.

The surprise in her eyes turns to an undisguised fear and disgust
as drawing back she pushes him away with revulsion and slipping
off the bed beyond his reach runs towards the door.

Her night-dress hangs like gossamer around her flashing legs and
swinging breasts as she bends to elude him in the darkened room.

As she opens the door starlight bursts in to mingle with the
shafts of the moon within. Standing on the verge of the hushed
night, outlined against the sky, she looks briefly back to see
him, almost as frightened of her as she is of him, as he steps
toward her to stop her from crying out loud.

More from repugnance at his touch than any fear of harm she turns
and runs down the pathway leading away from the house. The soles
of her feet leave imprints in the crushed grass that slowly curl
upward behind her after she has passed. Seen from a distance she
looks even more beautiful in her anguish than she did before, so
although we grieve for her pain we can only love her and desire
her more.

By the light of the stars she runs, like a silver nymph at play,
down towards the sea where the darkness lies most dense. Swiftly
she becomes as one with the forest and the night hides all terror
of the house and its occupants. Here, with the mingled scent of
the sea around, she stops for a moment and allows the matted
shadows from above to cover her nakedness as she stands and
listens to the muted voices of the forest and the breakers in the
sea.

A single tear forms and rolls liquid down the smooth curve of her
cheek to disappear into the depths below. Her eyes close and then
open again as she walks through the clutching branches and wipes
the tear away. The cool dew gathers on the leaves and spills onto
her skin as she passes.

Her sadness is hidden and her shame complete and her only hope of
salvation rests in the murmur of a rippling stream, the faint
voice of which can be distantly heard among the trees ahead.

Here in the darkness at least her face cannot be seen. Suddenly
the trees draw back and arch above her head to form a vaulting
cavern at the centre of which the pool lies inky black. A clear
running stream drops by levels to mingle with the dark waters in
a gentle melody and, to complete the effect; the moon shines
through the trees above to suffuse the scene with a ghostly
filtered light.

Standing at the edge of the pool she casts the remains of her
night-dress aside and enters the dark waters with barely a sound.
The water, like the night, is soft and pure and closes in to
envelop and caress her. She pushes out to the centre and dives
beneath its surface, coming up several feet away with a flick of
her head to clear the water from her eyes. The splash sends black
ripples across the still surface and her legs rise up and she
floats, moving forward slowly propelled by her arms. Her hair
splays out and then behind in an elegant spiral about her head,
while from the bank bright eyes, small and furtive, watch warily
before running away into the darkness as she emerges from the
water, which runs in rivulets down her skin, like a classical
Venus from the waves.

Leaving her night-dress where it fell on the ground she makes her
way along the course of the stream to where it empties out onto
the beach and into the sea. The tide, having reached its height,
is already on the turn and the sand is hard and cool beneath her
feet. On one side the palms merge into the trees and on the other
the moonlight shimmers across the water giving life to her
thoughts and evoking memories of happier times.

In such a solitary spot she has no fear of being disturbed by the
presence of the other and yet in her mind she can see the
footsteps in the sand, now washed away, so clearly that her
emotions tremble for expression and a sad detachment casts a
lily-white shroud across her thoughts.

Brought forth from the mouth of the sea, and cast up on the shore
during a mighty storm, the tree lies, it's roots half buried in
the sand, as if awaiting her coming from before the beginning of
time. She sits beside it and rests her head against its bark,
rough against her cheek. In the sky above the stars look down
with a kindly gaze, the moon continues to shed tears across the
water and the wind brushes softly through her hair. But as she
turns her head all she can see are mocking eyes staring back at
her as it to remind her of hopes and dreams destined to be
unfulfilled, and a vengeful God and humanity his plaything.

The sound of the breakers on the beach rouses her from her
introspection. With a sudden clarity she knows what she must do
and rising she walks down to the oceans edge. With a surging roar
the waves rush forward across the rippled sand, almost up to
where she stands, and after a brief titanic struggle fall back,
hissing and dancing to return again undaunted. She feels dwarfed
by the power and size of the ocean and observes, in a detached
fashion, how each sweep of the waves restores the sand to its
original innocence destroying all imperfections in its path.

The sea was warm and welcoming as she waded out into it. It came
up to her waist and washed and cleansed her externally. Leaning
into its embrace with powerful strokes she swam against the force
of the breakers out toward the welcoming moon. She continued to
swim for what seemed like hours, though in reality only a few
minutes passed, revelling in the caress of the ocean and its
pristine clarity. We glance away to where the face of the moon
begins to grow pale resting its chin on the ocean's curve and
when we look back again we can see her no more.

*

Time passes and, as if looking down from a great height, we
observe her body floating face down in the water surrounded by a
fantastic myriad of lights that constantly change and adjust as
they circle her pale slim form. It is as if in the midst of the
night she has been transfigured and has finally found the peace
and acceptance that she so craved for in life.

Meanwhile the world goes on and the stars continue to revolve in
the circling sky above as if to remind us that, though the
individual parts may die, the whole forever lives on. We are but
fragments of a greater unity returning from whence we came when
our time is done.
