The End Is Near


Her hair was a bright auburn in the light of the sun, cascading over her shoulders to hug close the curves of her figure. She smiled and laughed, her eyes bright with good cheer, her cheeks red rose against the porcelain of her delicate skin. He noticed everything about her, not merely the features that were open for all to see, but those little nuances of her physical character that he believed were his alone.
The way she tossed her hair out of her face with a look of mock-exasperation touching her features. The little way that she had of falling into moments of deep thought, dead to the world, yet a half smile remaining upon her lips as if at some untold joke that was known only to her. Sometimes he felt he could understand that joke. The bell rang, and he was jolted unceremoniously from his reverie. He looked about him at the hundreds of anonymous students making their way into the cafeteria, the sounds of their steps uneven, and yet oddly rhythmic. Joining in, he shook the final tatters of his fantasy from his mind, though still snuck glimpses of her as he moved with the crowd – his nameless beauty. Served on a tray that had seen better days was a substance that just barely qualified as food, a grey-green mush of sorts, touted as “Mash” by the culinary masters behind the plastic sneeze-protectors. Rather than digging in voraciously as many of his fellows, he toyed with the food, idly twirling a fork.
At 5”9, he was average in almost every way. Though he never did excel at anything, neither was he particularly lacking in any area. “Just average”; the catch-cry of his existence. Yet there was one thing that he believed did single him out – his dreams. He fantasized about other places, of freedom, contentment.

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   He slipped into a world of fantasy with ease, and he considered it a blessing. He spent many hours wondering if any of these people, his compatriots in this ant farm, ever did the same, for though he liked the concept of its uniqueness, it was nonetheless a uniqueness he would be delighted to share. Sighing disconsolately, he began to fork the “Mash” into his mouth, barely raising his eyes from the tray in front of him. He had long since given up on having any form of meaningful conversation in these enforced lunch hours, and merely gave himself the sustenance necessary to survive the rest of the day. And the day after that. And the day after that. Routine can be broken.
Later he could not remember which came first, the reverberating shot or the screams. His head darted up from his plate, yet he could see nothing for all the people standing and attempting to push through one another towards any exit. His instincts took over, and he found himself running full-pelt to the door, skidding into the corridor as the screams rising again in a cacophony of wailing. Shots began to fire more rapidly, and the screams rose to a crescendo. Running down the hall, he heard the door he had burst through before being opened violently, and he quickly spun to the nearest stairwell, belting up the stairs, his breathing ragged. Spinning on his heel, he ran directly into someone standing stock-still on the stairs, bowling them both over. He sat down hard on the floor, afraid to breathe, his heart beating out of his chest. But it was her.

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   Staring at him in a state of shock and with an utter lack of recognition, she seemed further traumatized by the recognition that must have shone in his eyes.
Thinking quickly, he whispered hoarsely, “Please, you have to get up; we have to find somewhere safe!” The word “safe” appeared to jolt her, as she flew to her feet, and began to follow him once more up the winding stairs. Standing at the second level, all that was noticeable was the faraway screams of fear and pain, yet no immediate danger. Most must have run to safety in the adjoining buildings to the first floor, he thought idly, all the while looking for some safe haven of their own. And yet even in these moments of panic, as fear raced through his body entwined with grief for those he was helpless to aid, it was infused with a sense of wonder that she would be here with him. It was as if the colours of life had broken through the gray haze of routine like sun rays through the morning pall. “Please hide…please hide…” He could now hear her faintly whispering to him, though he could assume it was as much a request for her own body to find the will to go on.
His eyes darting, he suddenly saw their safe haven. It verily glowed in the sheen of the corridors – He ran haggardly for it with her in tow, his hand lightly grasping hers as one would a rare bird. Time seemed to cease to exist in the janitor’s closet. Just enough light slipped through the cracks around the door to illuminate their faces, but it was a dead world. He found himself wondering in the silence whether he had in fact been shot in the first barrage, and this was death – yet the sound of sobbing quickly dispelled that notion. He glanced to her, glimpsing her tear-streaked face through the shadows of the mops and buckets. She seemed to stare at him, and it was at this moment that he realized that he himself was crying – what irony, he thought, I don’t remember this from any fantasy I’ve ever weaved.
Yet she seemed to sob ever harder, their combined grief accentuating rather than alleviating her distress.

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   Breathing deeply, he reached out a single, shaking hand and wiped the back of his palm over one glistening cheek. She jolted at the sensation, but did not pull away. Emboldened slightly, he moved forward, both from desire to comfort her, and to do the same for himself – he was no hero, he held no pretences in that regard. He was just a scared boy, with a scared girl, praying to a God in a school in which prayer is criminal.
Strong arms encircled her, pulling her towards his warmth. Some comfort of human contact registered in her grief-baffled mind, and she turned her glistening eyes up to his – the shimmering blue skies of his eyes glancing off the emerald oceans of hers. She felt something inside her change in that moment, the fear, not leaving, but changing into passionate desire.
A need to feel something else, something intense to drown out all of the voices that screamed in her head as much as they did in his. Her pouting lips raised to his, and he tentatively lowered his head to hers, cushioning them upon his own; warmth rolled between them as all other thoughts moved into the background. The fear, however, stayed in the foreground, mirrored in the intensity of their kiss, their tongues darting and massaging with fevered passion born of the knowledge of impending disaster.
His hands clasped clumsily at the back of her dress, but she lightly pushed him away, standing in the cramped space and slowly removing her clothing, a virgin bride upon her wedding night. He stared in awe at the sight that was achingly slowly revealed, his manhood, already straining against the fabric of his pants, almost painful with unquenched desire. He stood with her in the dark, and took her into his arms; he lay her back upon the cool stone floor almost reverently, his eyes never leaving hers. And like a child who has just learned how fragile an object can be, he began to gently move his hands down her body, while she closed her eyes, her forehead hot with restrained desire. With the back of his palm he traced down from her neck, taking a moment to lean down and kiss the nape o so tenderly.

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His hand continued to journey down her body, circling the mounds of her breasts – with one lone finger, he traced the bumps of her rose-petal nipples, and unable to restrain himself, leaned in to gently suckle upon them. The passionate fear had transformed, and in this room in which time had stopped, they were free – they were in a limbo between life and death. She raised to his wanting mouth, and his tongue danced in circles around the hardening bud. His hands continued to wander down, brushing against her sweet belly, feeling her buck towards his hand as it lowered so slowly to the source of her passion, his desire.
He broke away from her breast and gazed into her eyes as he gently moved his hand just around the outside of her glistening wetness, and felt her shiver beneath him. His eyes conveying an unspoken acknowledgement, he lowered himself with a trail of kisses down her body, at last gazing upon the sweetness between her legs. Untutored, he began to tentatively lap at it, his tongue coated in her nectar. Yet even in his inexperience, she responded to the feel of his attention, her fever at such a height that it demanded release.
His lapping became more persistent, while her hips began to buck towards his face. The world stopped as a shot rang out on their level, and brusque shouts echoed down the corridor. He kneeled in shock, staring at the door as a deer in the headlights, waiting for his death. Yet her moaning cry drew him back, and her arms encircled him, drawing him to her. He lay on top of her, her hot breath brushing his ear. Breathily, she said, “I want you inside of me…please…if this is all we have…” She left the words dangling in the air, yet no more needed to be said.
She gently unzipped his fly with a calm that she did not feel, and pushed his pants down, freeing his member which pushed against her leg.

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   Patiently and lovingly, she guided him into her; no longer the blushing bride. He gasped as he felt her wetness and warmth enfold him, and the ecstasy of the feeling ran throughout his body in electric jolts. He began to move in and out of her in quick, stilted movements, but with guiding arms she slowed him, brought him to her pace, and together they moved in passion, his glistening manhood slipping deep into her.
At one moment her felt resistance, and unknowing, pushed hard against it. Biting her lip, she did not utter a sound, the pain almost intensifying the experience. He could feel his climax building up inside of him as he showered breathy kisses upon her face and neck, and knew that she herself was close as she contracted around his throbbing member. He began to move faster, and this time she did not stop him, lost in her own rapture. Light, breathy moans filled the room as she climaxed, and tears ran down her porcelain complexion, glistening in the dark.
Arching back, his released his seed deep inside of her, moaning gutturally at the intensity of the sensation. Life, death, love, pain, all was alive in both of them at that moment, and both were as one in this act, in this moment. He lowered himself upon her, exhausted, gently kissing and nuzzling her face as she wept, tears of his own welling up inside. The sounds had gotten closer in their passion, yet it no longer matter – They were the colour in the gray. The door burst open.