Down the Mountain (A short story)

I remember leaving your house at dusk that fall night with the eerie mist and the brisk winds howling through Appalachia etched into my mind. Our sins were weighing on my soul. These forbidden desires we harbor in this illicit union. I could still taste you on my lips, your soft pale flesh, so sweet, so luscious. My mind entranced by the thoughts of your beauty, but my heart torn on the reality of the situation. Our end was near.

I started up the summit with the Beautiful South streaming out of my Ipod; their music, creating the perfect soundtrack for my life, filling my mind with remorse and regret. Our unholy bond in the forefront, the thoughts of truth silenced. Our last ritual together changed everything. As soon as the blood flowed into the chalice, I knew we could rule the world. From the first slit of the wrist, to the depths of your inner thighs, we could indeed be one. Apart we are but pawns, but now, after what seems like all perpetuity, we exist together. I must break my silence and face my destiny. I must forever lay inside the taboo realm that I have created.

At that point, I knew something would have to change if I were to survive another extended period without you, without the dark sour veins lining your heart. Although your presence is a challenge to me, I am only alive in your arms. A secret I hold deep within the bounds of my heart, one so painful that it could destroy me if I ever realized the depths that your unholy presence would go to control me.

At the peak, I could see the majestic inn shining through the darkness. The mist that followed me had finally turned to rain, falling down my windshield like the tears of pain running down your beautiful face when I left. I can still see the scarlet stream glistening through the moonlight, mirroring Virginia’s suffering with Edgar so long ago. The rain also made it impossible to see clearly. In my mind, I wanted to turn back. The pleasure of being in your arms again was tugging at my every thought; your flavor is more satisfying than my future at this moment. That is when I saw the man in the light. He was wandering down the mountain, cloaked and alone. His flowing robe drenched by the now torrential downpour that was on top of us.

What was so important for this man of the cloth, where was he going? There was no type church or seminary anywhere close in this direction. I could understand it if he were headed back to town, while not a religious Mecca, the town did have its share of churches, cathedrals and even a monastery. For the first time in a long while, everything was clear to me, he was a messenger from above. He was there to save my soul from eternal damnation. I would, I must, stop, repent my deeds. Lending a helping hand to this mysterious figure could do nothing but help me sort out the demons I harbor.

As I pulled over, something was very wrong, this man. His face appeared empty inside the dark cloak; I could make out no details at all, as I rolled my passenger window down. His face, where was his face? All at once, the horror of my reality cried out as he disappeared before my eyes. What have I done, why am I seeing things like this? Shaken by the happenings of the last five minutes, I tried to focus and start my trip again. Where was his face? Damn it, I cannot erase the emptiness in his face, in his hands. His hands were so pale. That is when reality hit me with one swift crash. "No Stop Please, don't!" I cried out as the pale almost skeletal hand reached through my window grasping at my hair. In a flash, my life changed forever. All I remember hearing when my torso hit the steering wheel was the words, "Your sins are forgiven my son," as his sharp blade severing my neck, piercing my soul and destroying my life.