Losing Light

This was my entry into this weeks “5 Minute Fiction” Challenge, run (for 16 weeks so far), by Leah Patersen. It was my third hack at the contest, the first one that I kind of liked, and the first one that made it past the week’s judge to become one of the 5 finalists that got voted on. I didn’t win (tied for second, though) – T.L. Tyson‘s piece was hands down the best – but I was pretty happy with it, in the end. The seed word for the competition was “length”. All entries needed the seed word in them somehow. It was a fun challenge, and I’m in awe of the folks who can write so much so well in such a short time. My entry is not exactly erotica, either, but it’s close, says I. –M

The days keep getting shorter.

Sometimes I wonder whether I’ve managed to slip above the arctic circle without noticing, and pretty soon the length of my day will be one hour, then five minutes, then nothing at all.

I shouldn’t have forsaken the sun.

I don’t think I meant to. It was the heat. It was too much brightness. It was the pain of looking at her face, her hand in the grip of another. I cursed my eyes for seeing it. Cursed the sun for showing it to me. For showing her to me that first time in the early spring, and for letting her see me.

Then, the days were never long enough. We spent them wandering, touching, looking, drinking each other in. And each day moved into a night bright with stars – enough for dilated eyes to see whatever they wanted to.

We didn’t notice the solstice. We didn’t care. No, that’s not true. I didn’t notice. I didn’t care. But when the season began to turn, so did she. To her, I was Summer – light and heat, blossom and fragrance. Fall… I didn’t want it to come, but she did. She twirled with the earth, and I stayed rooted. And I lost her. I cursed my sun.

And now I’m losing her as well.

I will close my eyes, and sleep.

Spring, if you come, bring her back to me.