[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.There was the faint pressure of something.organic.against my lips, and the scent of applesgrew stronger.Cautiously I opened my mouth,allowing her to slide the delicate slice inside, whereit met my tongue.When the full taste of the apple hadfilled my mouth I bit down, careful to avoid those longand delicate fingers that lingered near the edge ofmy lips, brushing me with their tips as I chewed.I smiled, swallowing, and she placed a secondslice against my mouth, letting it rest on my lower lipas I finished.All my fears now laid to rest, I suckledat the tip of that fruit, drawing it into my mouth andletting the sensation of it wash over my tongue.But this was not apple.The texture, yes.The size, the shape.the same.And yet caressing my tastebuds was the sweetestmango I had ever eaten (though I had, admittedly,eaten just that one when Father took us with him toBombay).I began to lift my lids in surprise, but shewhispered to me in that voice like a spring breezeand prayed me keep them shut. Over and over she fed me that same fruit, thosecrescent moons of delight, with each sliver carryingwith it more delicate and odd flavours.Apple andmango and sweet chutney and honeyed almondsand raspberry tarts and things for which I have nonames.Yet all with the same texture.Their shapeunchanged.With my eyes closed, the impossibility of thatmoment was far away, somehow removed, and Ichewed on that fruit with great abandon.I parted mylips at the last to ask how such a thing was possible,to question her on the illusion she conveyed, and mymouth, apple-drenched and heavy with that nectar,blossomed like a flower to the honeybee of her kiss.My questions died in the span of that heartbeat, herhands cradling the sides of my face and her lipspressed so firmly against mine that lights burstbehind my eyes.For a moment I was stiff.This was not a friendlykiss.Not the kiss of sisters.Her mouth movedagainst mine, teaching me a language I had neverheard, and yet some unconscious desire in me(wanton and wicked girl that I am!) spoke back.Iparted my lips like the petals and found her tonguemeeting mine in an act as natural as sunlight, andrain.There was shame, tiny fragments of it in thespan of those moments, but they were flecks, barelymore than a few drops of rain in the vastness of anocean.That was when I opened my eyes, dearest Diary, with our mouths lost in that wordless conversation.Itwas then that I saw the deep viridian hue of her skin.It was then that I saw the flowers in her hair; that hairthat was green, too, but so dark as to be black.Nighthad fallen by then, and while my eyes were wide inthe astonishment of what I saw, my hungry lips weretoo greedy to allow me to end their feast.Until I noticed the wings.They sprouted from her back, like the gracefulpanes of a butterfly, but dipped in moonlight and thedew of summer mornings.I gasped, opening mymouth to inhale, and her kiss deepened.My eyelidsfell, the whole of my being overwhelmed by thepower of her adoration.There was no thought for me.Not then.Not forlong minutes as her mouth sealed against mine andour tongues writhed against each other like thebodies of two serpents locked in battle.At least she released me, breathless, and Iblinked to find those colors gone.No wings.No tinywreaths of daisies in her locks.Vanished.Illusion.No skittering thing in the darkness.And then she stood up, grinning madly, anddropped the apple core to the ground."Tomorrow," she said, still smiling.And ran offinto the woods.Is it any wonder, dearest Diary, that I cannotsleep?I shall write again later, dearest Diary, after I haveseen her once more.Until then, pray that I may perform my chores well enough for Mother to allowme the quiet hour I crave at Derrybond.I can still smell her in my hair.Your friend,.who smells of apples herself.---June 11, 1895Dear Diary,Again we meet by candlelight, the sun havingcome and gone since my earlier entry.It seemsfitting that this should appear (in my journal, at anyrate) as a day without sun.Without light.She did not appear today, as I so fervently hopedshe would
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
