It’s been ages since I have felt such a muse. Not kidding.
So, the mood of the short story focuses on horses running and the very old film Equus, for some reason. There is a gorgeous piece of art I’ve seen over in twitter — diaphanous, actually. A man really taking a woman. Just an exquis image. This story is not about that per se. more Cocteau like. What he wants from her is abandon, and so he has set that up.
A driver takes her to a lighthouse.
She has the key.
I could do a pinterest board on the images dunno. But anyway — Equus.
The theme of horses running, and how a mare presents herself….
Writing the whole thing to Eno “The Pearl” a very old favorite album… it is washing itself over me in waves….
So the opener of the tale:
Abandon
by Valentine Bonnaire
c. 2015 August ERWA all rights reserved
“I am drowning, my dear, in seas of fire.” — Virginia Woolf
The tower he had chosen was a lighthouse. It was the most immense phallus she had ever seen as she stood at the base of it. Its tip touched clouds. It was going to be dark soon, and the driver had pulled away leaving her with a very old brass key. It was heavy in the softness of her hand, as if a thousand years of locked entrances could open, once she entered the obscenely weathered door. Almost as if she were inside Jacques. They hadn’t met yet. *He wants to show me,* she thought.
Ribbons of black and white swirled up the structure. *He wants me inside of him.*
She was wet, suddenly, her eyes traveling across the landscape of grasses to the two horses running free along the dunes. The stallion had suddenly mounted the mare, and she watched him as the dusk began to fall. There was nothing along the dunes for miles, as far as she could see. Only the stretch of land and beach and the various marsh grasses that led their way out to the sea like music on the wind, their heads nodding and bobbing in little frissons like the twinges she felt at her buttocks involuntarily clenching as she grew wetter and wetter watching the stallion. Suddenly he bucked free of the bay. Her flanks trembled in the darkening light.
(hmmm) xxoo! ❤
going to be a good one… blistering hot.
VALENTINE BONNAIRE - WRITER 