The city where you live.....

They were back as he knew they would be. He felt their restlessness in the shadows, waiting to come out. With a smile, he poured himself another glass. A glass of what, he didn’t know, and frankly he didn’t care. Anything to deepen those shadows. Then she would come. He downed the drink thirstily, some dribbled from the corner of his mouth. He wiped his chin impatiently and filled his glass once again.

She came to him every night, sometimes in the day too. He would take his first sip and sense the familiar flicker in the shadows, a swirl of colour, and a low hum of hundreds of butterflies buzzing. Some times blue, sometimes red, they always seem to accompany her. A few times just the butterflies had appeared. They had fluttered around him and the soft brush of their wings had made him wonder if they would leave a streak of blue on his cheek.

He would lie on the bed with his eyes closed and wait for the wings to brush his lips. Her kisses. He knew that she will not come unless he drank enough. She was there the shadows, watching, urging him with her kohl dark eyes, to have one more drink. He could hear her whisper full of need and wondered whose need it was. His or hers. The butterflies swirled around him, red, blue, yellow...

Just one hour away from her city. One hour had stretched into one day and then one night. He didn’t have the courage to go further. It was so peaceful here, in this hotel by the highway. He stood in his window high above the ground, and looked at the road stretched out towards the city. He could almost smell her in the air. He wasn’t sure why he was here. What exactly did he hope to achieve. He had forfeited the game by quitting half way. Now this was her city, her kingdom. He was an outsider. But since he had left her, he had been an outsider where ever he went. Was he going home? Where was home? He didn’t know anymore.

Then it started to make sense to him. He didn’t have to enter the city. It was enough for him to know that she was just an hour away, or maybe just a bottle away. He poured himself yet another glass. Here He was in charge. She was his to summon, his to take. Her arrogance left behind she will come as a woman desperately in love. This room, this bottle, this glass, it all made so much sense. All he needed to do was to take one more drink.

***

He felt the shadows around him getting darker. He could feel the restless movement of the butterflies, then swish of silks, a subdued tinkle of anklets, her fragrance. He tried to open his eyes, but someone gently closed them, with a soft caress on his cheek. He gratefully surrendered to the knowledge that she was here. He felt the glass touch his lips and drank thirstily. Sinking back with a sigh he was content to feel her fingers on his face, her warm lap cushioning his head as the mists enveloped him……

***

A whisper brought him out of his stupor. She was making her excuses and vanishing as always. He opened his eyes in panic, not today, not now. She will have to take him with her. He implored her, trying to hold her in his arms but she kept eluding him like a dream. Amidst the cloud of butterflies she got up, reached the window and looked back at him mistily as he implored her. He scrambled out of the bed and rushed to her. With a smile she beckoned and holding his hand in a tight clasp stood with him on the ledge. The butterflies exploded in a riot of colours as he felt his toes leave the ledge.

***

[I need help with this one. Don't know if it works. Reader's comments will be most helpful.]

The Captive.

Then she was roughly pushed into a dark room. The door slammed shut as her head hit the floor. She lay there stunned, eyes smarting with tears.

The floor was cold, hard stone. Lying still for a few minutes she got her wind back. Her forehead throbbed as she sat up and a drop trickled down the side of her face. She wiped it recognizing the smell of blood.

Pushing herself forward, half crawling in the pitch dark room, she reached the wall and sat with her back against it, waiting for eyes to adjust to the darkness. She looked around, trying to see a pattern, a break in the shadows. There was nothing. No up, no down. Wondering if the knock on the head had blinded her she shut her eyes tightly and opened them again. The only difference was the swirl of colour when they were shut.

She took a deep breath and almost gagged. The putrid stench of the room was suffocating. It was the smell of rats, urinals and dark nights. It touched her like unknown fingers, making her flesh crawl. The bile rising in the throat almost choked her and she pushed it down with an effort. It left a foul taste in her mouth. Water… she wanted water. Gallons and gallons of Ice cold water, to drink, to wash and to splash in. She licked the dust on her lips and rubbed her face in an attempt to clean it. Legs buckled under her as she tried to stand. So for a long time, in the tomb like silence, she sat listening to her heart beats. Slowly they came back to normal, well..... almost normal. She tried to stand, seeking support from the wall, and this time she managed. Inching sideways along the wall like a crab she thought, she has to be a crab from now on, hiding in the crevices and under the moldy rocks.

The damp and rotting wall kept flaking at her touch. She kept rubbing her fingers on her jeans to keep them clean and moved on again, feeling her way along the wall. The ground felt uneven in a few places with stone slabs missing. She stumbled a few times but didn’t fall. She pretended she was a cat as she tried to see through the inky night. Her shoes touched something. She gingerly pushed it around, trying to figure out what it was. It rolled away with a metallic clang. She sat down and reached out, feeling with outstretched hand, fingers seeking in the direction of the sound. It had rolled a little farther than she had thought. Hating to leave the security of the wall, with her back still against the wall she reached out and groped around. Her fingers found coolness of metal. It was a light weight and dented metal cup. She searched for sharp edges. Sharp edges are useful, if used properly.

Her eyes kept scanning the darkness. That little patch to her right looked a little less opaque. Could be a boarded up window, she thought hopefully. Little by little she moved along the wall towards it.

She stared hard at it and noticed the lighter patch of darkness high above her. She decided to make a mark on the wall to find the place again later. The cup was still in her grip. With its edge she started to carve a long notch on the wall. The cup kept slipping from her fingers making loud clanging sounds. First time that happened, the sound paralyzed her, but soon she realized that there was no reaction from outside.

She had to keep finding the cup every time it fell. The darkness felt less threatening, now that she was learning to move around. It took her some time to make that notch deep enough to be found easily with the finger tips. The effort had completely drained her. Once again she rested against the wall.

A faint sound outside drove the sleep away from her eyes. A thin shimmer of light shone in the darkness. Crouched like a cat, gripping the cup like a weapon …she waited. The door opened a little more, and two people entered the room. One of them put something on the ground while the other one stood guard. His flash light searched around the room and pinned her down, blinding her. The light beam flashed on the objects on the ground. A cup and a few pieces of bread on a plate. The light beam arced around the room once again, briefly illuminating a grimy commode in a far corner and was switched off. The door slammed shut and once again the room was plunged in darkness.