Sapphic Voices Fantasy

She Is A Beautiful Creature When She Sleeps

Her dreams are often inexplicable horrors. Stealthy, alien creatures representing threats both imagined and real torment her from subconscious thought. A dear friend teases and calls her Persephone. She smiles, relates herself more to Demeter, and refuses to acknowledge the truth. She likes pomegranates and visits the underworld nightly, regardless of season.

But tonight her sleep is peaceful. She kicked the blanket to the foot of the bed due to the evening humidity. It now covers only her delicate feet, which must touch for her to dream. Her lily skin on dark purple sheets provides a mesmerizing contrast. Her freckles and scars do not exist in the scant light. She is covered in perfect alabaster clay. She is a statue, a monument... a spell.

Her countenance remains free from the clouds of self-doubt. Her lips and affectionate mouth are relaxed into a thin line. Betraying, gray eyes are hidden beneath tender eyelids and curled lashes. Her exquisite cheekbones suggest a culture loved, but not fully embraced.

Locks of her long, dark hair drape the pillowcase at odd angles. Shadow snakes, they have lives of their own. They breathe when she does and wait in protective anticipation, veiling the blanched skin beneath in their ambiguity.

Even in sleep her faint arms do her bidding. One hides beneath the pillow, clutching it as anchor and savior. The other waits to pull her from nightmare jaws at a moment's notice. Slight hands each end in nails painted dark, rich colors and cleaned with the meticulous hygiene of a cat. Her claws remain the most fearsome weapons she has encountered within any dreamscape.

When she begins to twitch with the first sign of unconscious desperation, I descend slowly and carefully. She stirs as I touch her shoulder. A faint whine escapes her throat. I pause for a moment. Her breath absorbs the damp summer heat. Her skin is exotic silk. She smells of vanilla.

I find my way over her shoulder blade to trace down her spine. The hollow of her back conceals a tattoo that looks vaguely like me, only larger. I make my way to the red hourglass and bite slowly, pushing a carefully calculated amount of venom into her. The tattoo's ink offers a bitter taste.

I ascend an invisible line to the ceiling and watch her from my web in the corner. She has not moved since my first touch. Her respiration will continue to slow until the life flees her bones just enough to assure a night's sleep free of personified demons.

If you have enjoyed Tara Chen's "She Is A Beautiful Creature When She Sleeps", then please be certain to e-mail her at  tara[at]dementedkitty.com  and thank her for posting this Story.

Click here for a list of all of Tara Chen's  Stories and Poetry at  Sapphic Voices Authoresses.