Day 51 Writing Short Stories

Touch

Love was never what it was meant to be. It was an obstacle, a hindrance. Sex was mandatory. Something the government forced upon people: to procreate. It was her time of the month to fulfill her duty: she was to be intimate with someone. She hated the hour and hated finding a mate to connect with. It took time away from her pursuits: her hobbies, her work. In past eras, when time was not so preciously divided into all and everything and nothing, copulation and being touched were the whole pursuit of life. Now, when she let her chosen mate touch her, she occupied her thoughts with lists: what the characters in her favorite shows did, the race she was going to finish tomorrow, what she was going to buy.

But something jolted her awake when he let his hand slide down her lower back; it lingered there, not hungrily, as the previous encounters would indicate. No, this was different. She snapped out of the lists and recreating the path of her race, and let her eyes fall upon him. He was eagerly watching her and her emerald eyes. She wasn’t sure if they had exchanged words upon arriving at the agreed encounter. Now she wanted to hear him speak. But the man was mute. His soft lips were pressed tight, and his dark brown eyes seemed so lost and sad. So much so that she wanted to touch them; to press her fingers inside his eyes to find out what was behind the sadness.

She parted her lips to indicate it was okay to kiss her. He didn’t. He held his hand on her lower back and expected something.

“I, you,” she tried, not resonating with the man.

Suddenly, being naked and underneath him overwhelmed her. It had never before. It had felt like a task. Here, having him between her thighs made her skin prickle, and she still wanted him to open his soft lips and kiss her. Hand on the lower back remained. It was a tight, reassuring pressure that made her almost remember the past; all the other centuries, all the other bodies.

Then he pulled away, leaving her lying there. He didn’t look at her as he dressed his clothes on as if she were something vile.

“There won’t be a baby,” she said. He hadn’t finished. He hadn’t done his duty.

He stopped pulling his pants on, still not looking at her. “There was never meant to be a baby.” His voice was calm, controlling, soft, all she wanted to hear. She wanted him to say more, to speak to her about anything and everything.

“No, baby?”

He sighed. “I thought there could be more.”

She sat up, drawing the sheet lying next to her on the bed, covering her breasts and naked torso.

“More?”

“Beyond duty and control.”

Her eyes widened. She had heard those words before. In a line, on a TV show. “I want that,” she whispered, fearing the words.

This time, he looked at her. There was more to his eyes than sadness, but it wasn’t connection. It was something she couldn’t interpret. It was something she hadn’t seen before: an emotion.

—

My mind feels sharper today, like it wants to write stories. It has to be because Alan Moore, a wonderful genius. I’m reading his book, The Great When, and I just listened to some of his BBC Masterclass videos, and I think just by hearing him speak is making me more attuned to my writing, pushing me to give my best performance. His voice and words are so carefully crafted and wise that I wish one day I would be like him. His calmness and clarity are something to aspire to. The way he can describe a situation using all senses and compose sentences that are unique, magical, and descriptive is mind-boggling. Now, I want to devour all his work so I can learn.

Today’s story has nothing to do with him, though. So, no getting any funny ideas. It just came out of nowhere, fitting the premise: comic (didn’t quite get that, more sadly absurd situation), science fiction, quest, and third-person point of view. I had fun writing this, not because of the sex scene, but because I could tell the story through it, painting a picture of a grim future where humans have stopped connecting. One might argue that there’s no need for the future and science fiction part, as there is already a decline in sexual encounters and spending time with each other in Western and Asian societies, but let’s, for now, pretend it is something of the future to ease our pain.

Thank you for reading! Have a day of encounters ❤