They approached the sea as the waves just about grazed their feet. They sat side by side on the uneven sand. Savio wondered whether it was the right time to make a move but Annie surprised him again. She leaned towards him and put her head on his shoulders. She smelled of some exotic perfume. Or wait, was it rose water? He could not decide. Her smell intoxicated him more than the wine he had consumed. He felt a wild stab of desire again and allowed his hand to run across her waist and caress her hips. She did not shoo it away and he took that as an encouragement to proceed further. He leaned in and kissed her lightly before consuming her red lips between his. One hand went on her back and one hand slid comfortably into the front and soon Annie was out of her white dress. She moaned, egging him on with eyes shut, experiencing the slow ecstasy of a rushing wave. Savio soon undid her bra and slid off her panties, ogling at her pink nipples with a thirst that seemed unquenchable. He mouthed one, biting it a little too hard than he intended, making Annie cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. He squeezed the other breast with one hand, a little harder than intended.
“Ouch, do it again!” Annie cried in an almost ethereal voice. And he did.
Annie soon unzipped him, holding his organ between her fingers and soon built up a steady up and down rhythm. This time it was Savio's turn to moan and moan he did with all his might. Savio traced her red lips with his fingers, working up towards her face and gaining a firm grip on her head with both hands. Slowly he lowered her head between his legs, pushing her down gently and squirming when her lips swallowed him whole.
The wind whistled in the coconut palm trees and waves glowed with phosphorescence as they crested and broke on the shore. The lights of Panaji twinkled and shone across the river. Far away, the light from Fort Aguada lighthouse blinked in monotonous regularity. A few ships in the distant seas appeared as moving dots of light amidst the inky blackness of the sea. The full moon went behind the clouds cloaking the beach in a layer of darkness. Savio felt uneasy and let his hand slide down into the sand, instead opting to drop his head on hers.
“I never could make out where river ends and the sea begins,” Savio said feeling Annie's soft fingers entwine in his.
“You too? I have been wondering about that ever since I was a
kid. And till date, I have never been able to reach any conclusion,”
Annie replied.
Suddenly, the full moon broke through the clouds lighting up
their surroundings with a silvery hue.
“It is so beautiful,” sighed Annie. “It almost feels like I am dead
and floating in heaven.”
“Then let me grant your wish!” Savio's voice came so harsh that
it hurt her ears. She looked up in alarm. She watched, paralyzed
with terror, as Savio began to transform. Dense hair sprouted all
over his body as his skin slowly disappeared beneath. The nails grew
into long claws that could rip the throat with a single swipe. The
twisted face elongated, the nose turning into a dog-like snout,
the teeth protruding out of it like a row of pointed blades. The
deformed creature looked at Annie with a strange amber glowing in
his eyes. Annie tumbled as her nervous feet tried to rise above the
sand but sank into it as she watched the handsome man complete
his transformation into a hideous monster. She gathered all her
strength and screamed. The sound was cut short by the sharp fangs
that pierced her throat, squeezing the life out of her naked body as
the beast shook the body like a ragdoll between its jaws, slashing at her juggling breasts. Blood mingled with the waves and bones sank deep into the sand as the beast fed on its victim. A huge wave crashed ashore, taking with it their discarded attire. It was followed by the mournful howl of a wolf that nobody heard on the deserted beach.
“No I'm not a dream, I'm your worst nightmare.” ¯ C.T. Todd
The Muse Comes Calling
Abhijit Mukherjee double-checked the bolts and locks on the main door, twisting and pushing them more than once. He then checked the windows, pulled them inwards to ensure that they were securely fastened. He drew the curtains, walked to the bar, poured out exactly three fingers of single malt, added the regulation amount of ice, and carried the glass to his writing table. He placed the unopened pack of cigarettes and the lighter on the table. Taking the first sip from the glass, he switched on the music system and nodded in appreciation as the opening bars of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony played through his prized Bose Speakers. He was all set. Now all he needed was that flash of inspiration that would mark the beginning of his fifth book. He was now waiting for the muse to visit.
Abhijit was now a household name in English speaking urban India. His first three books were reasonably successful, but it was his fourth book that had propelled him into the reader's mind and carved out a territory for his literary intellect.Thirteen - tales of the unexpected, a collection of short stories about the bizarre; had caught the attention of the reading public in an unexplained manner, making him field dozens of questions from the eager media personnel and address many seminars on the subject. The massive royalty cheque which he had received along with an unheard of advance from the publisher for his next had made him immediately quit his job and leave the urban chaos of Delhi far behind. He had bought this Bungalow in the quaint hill station of Shimla, planning to lead a solitary existence that the writers of yore were renowned for.