She glanced over her shoulder, and then back at him. “It's almost sunset,” she said as the sky behind her slowly started to melt into sweet citrus honey. “Will you follow me?” she asked. “Please.”

Her eyes fluttered, elliptical and elegant.

            “I…I don’t…who are you?…” he stuttered, and then thought:  “Those eyes—they're beautiful.” He admired them like a painters masterpiece. “Those eyes…” he thought.

They reminded him of a butterflies wings;  a whirlpool of brilliant gleaming color and pattern, intricate and beautiful.

“Flawless,” he said quitley under his breath.

            “Thank you,” she said.

Her mosaic eyes flashed in the sinking light like a stained glass cathedral.

             “Don’t be scared now, follow me into the sky. We can watch the clouds fight over the stars while the holy moon watches and laughs. Please?..."

Her dark hair danced in the light breeze, swift and fine. He imagined a billion threads of silk, each one shinier and softer than the next. “Is she not bound by age or mortality,” he wondered.

            “But… I don’t think I can… what about everybody else behind? What about my wife and kids? What will happen to them,” he asked, torn.

            "Don’t worry about that, they’ll be fine, you’ll see them soon enough. Now,…. Please, follow me."

             She turned around. Her white gown twirled in the air, as gentle and sweet as a mother’s kiss.

             She looked back at him.

Faint sounds of white dust and dreams beat like drums off in the distance.

            He took a slow step forward, and then another, then another.

 They embraced, and intertwined like the trees in a bold forest, like DNA being transferred through mating snakes. Then her magneffscient fluorescent eyes sunk into her head, leaving behind two dark, hallow craters.

It started to get hot.

He blinked.

He looked around. Fire and brimstone everywhere, death--everywhere. His foot was shackled. The foul stench of sulfur made love to his nostrils. And then he noticed there was a small red dwarf with the head of a sheep and horns of a bull behind him, poking him in the ass with a pitchfork.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he grumbled, shaking his head, “great… just ****** great. I knew I should of stayed home today.” 

Keyword: Xena wants your shoes

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Comments (7)

Posted by fewix 2008-07-04 03:35:56 ... The strong language makes me feel this should have been 18'ed It's beautifully written, I needed to make my eyes understand the speak structure before I could really get what was happening. + Report this comment
Posted by Pilgrim 2008-07-04 08:37:16 .... What could start out, maybe as something pretty good, turned into garbage. I still can't get the smell out of my nostrils. Time to burn some incense. + Report this comment
Posted by Xena 2008-07-04 13:33:52 fair enough... and damn you storyland.. you have jipped me of my credits!! + Report this comment
Posted by David Relic 2008-07-13 02:49:30 .... Damn it! umpa loompas freak me the F*ck out. you couldnt just use a goat pic, or a pitchfork pic, or a picture of Dante's Inferno? I might be pretty f*cking strange, but umpa F*cking Loompas are goddamn twisted nightmares. P.S. the ending was good. + Report this comment
Posted by jagblane 2008-07-31 16:08:27 .... As soon as I got to "follow me please" I thought that something sus was going on. Oh and nice umpa. + Report this comment
Posted by chelsey89 2008-08-03 22:45:00 ... I have to admit the umpa was freaking me out, and I still don't quite understand what it had to do with the story... The story was good despite the bizarre ending. I love your writing style it's what made your story good. Nice job. + Report this comment
Posted by J Writes Again 2008-09-27 02:59:46 Interesting This line really supported the oddness of his experience..."The foul stench of sulfur made love to his nostrils." If anything matches the feeling one gets when looking at an oompha loompa that line says it. Needed a bit longer transition. Still your imagery is good. J + Report this comment

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