I Give You the Divine

You just can't sleep tonight.

The glowing red numerals of your clock radio levitate in the darkness. Rain hisses outside.

That's nothing.

A towering shadow haunts the wall next to your bed - a female form with wings, elongated limbs that trail the wallpaper, tapping fingers. Held rigidly awake by your fear, you stare at the shadow, unblinking.

The rain still slides down your windowpane. The tapping my be droplets hitting the glass. The shadow - an illusion.

You had too much to drink. You're overtired.
There's a rational explanation.


"Good morning"
"How are we feeling today?"

I will build a wall and wrap it round him to make plain to him his isolation. It will pull in all his pain and despair, may it surround him from now on and forever.

"I hear you've been a naughty girl, not taking your pills."

Once he is secure within the wall I will put a roof on to enclose him within his own darkness. Then I will suck out his oxygen leaving him gasping. And at night we used to breathe into each other's mouths - 16% oxygen, 12%oxygen, see how far we could go before our heads spun and stars filled our eyes.

"How can we help you if you don't co-operate?"

My silence is only one of my weapons, I have so many. I think I spoke a few words when they took me here. I asked for Luke. They would not let me see Luke. So I said nothing else.

The view is dismal on the ward. I hate being locked up with these crazy people. I look at the advantages nevertheless. It gives me time to think.

"The doctor is going to see you today"

Luke, my brother. You see the sun sets beneath spectacular clouds, sinks into darkening hills. The trees along the horizon resemble a coach and horses riding in the distance. "Look at the coach and horses!" said everyone's mama to their wide-eyed child. You see the rain falls like mist. You walk the pavement and the country lanes, lit gold by orange street lamps, that send an echo of their flame to turn the night sky brown.

"That's something to look forward to ..(snarl) being paid attention" The orderly puts his head in his hands at his own slip. He looks about. Everyone else is asleep.

"I'm sorry." But he is saying it to himself, for himself.

We go back a long way, Luke.

I held you in my arms when you were a baby. I nurtured you as you grew. I looked deeply into your eyes, deeply into your mouth and brushed it with willing lips.

I watched your skin get its first freckles in the sun.
Led you by the hand to get an ice cream.

If you were my child I'd hold you inside my womb as you grew, caressing and stroking my belly each day. I'd whisper words of sweetness to you at all times and then say a fond farewell to you as you were born, to meet you again in the open air.


Somewhere, miles away, Luke works at his computer in his room. The phone rings. Someone wanting to play tennis.

Picture a face of utmost beauty and seriousness talking quietly into the receiver.

He is in the prime of his youth (24) and untouched. He stands about 5'4". His mummy and daddy got killed in a car crash, his skin is pale and lightly freckled, his sister's in the nuthouse, nobody ever told him why, not even now.

Don't you just want to look after him?
He has been considering going to church. It would be the first time.


I wander into the chapel to think.

Yes, I have spoken to God, directly. Today He is waiting for me in the form of a beetle, which is crawling across the back of one of the chairs.

"Greetings, Powerful One" says He.
"Greetings my Lord," I say "How is the world with you?"
"All is well," says He. For the one they know as God and the one they know as Satan are one and the same. Let there be light and darkness also. How could it be otherwise?
"And with you?" asks He of me.
"I want to see my brother, Lord, can you bring him to me?"
He tells me he will send an angel with the message. But not just any angel. Would I like to see this one?
But of course.

We ensure that the chapel doors are barricaded and that we are alone. The angel begins to appear on the altar. First she is just a spire of smoke. Then she begins to take a human form, a human form with great wings.

She is naked, slender, oriental looking. Her almond eyes are cast down to the floor. Her lips are full and dark.

Her wings fill the whole altar, the feathers crunch as she spreads them - dewy and newly formed, and her nails are like talons. Her hair hangs forward over one shoulder. At a word from my Lord she steps down from the altar and glides along the aisle to me.

"She has gifts. Would you like a demonstration?"

I ask her name. "She is called Laia," says He.
Laia approaches me and straddles me.

She lets me feel her velvet thighs and the insides of her legs. I raise my hand to part her lips and feel her inside. As if she read my mind she urinates over my hand, my crotch, my legs. Then she wraps her wings around me and suffocates me with kisses.

Someone is battering down the door of the chapel.
Laia makes her exit. My Lord is silent.


The orderly fell into the chapel, having finally broken down the door. He collapsed on the floor and came face level with the puddle of urine.

"Holy Shit!"
Not quite.


Little brother, someone is tapping at your window.
It may be just a dream or it may just be not.

You wake to see a shadow on the wall near your bed. A winged female figure with arms outstretched. You are unable to assimilate, unable to ignore it. You jolt upright in your fear.

Turn your head. Look across to the window. Laia is letting herself in. She is tall, naked, wet from the rain. It runs in rivulets down her warm, amber skin. She has folded her wings so that your small room can accommodate her.

Sleek like a cat and with droopy, sleepy eyes she crouches and slides up to your bed and like a cat teases you with pressure of paw against your chest and just a pinprick from each of her fingernail claws. Enough to stop your heartbeat momentarily, bring it to your throat.

Do not breathe.
Do not breathe until not doing so makes you jump and gasp.

She pouts at your terrified inactivity. Her eyes close and then open again, slowly, deliciously.

How am I there with you both, my lovers?
How can I see and feel all this?
A fly on the wall? No I am your very breath, her movement, her disdain, your virgin fear.

I am her hand that snakes itself now around your throat and holds you down against your bed. Keep still now, little boy. I am in her eyes now as she looks down at your quivering lip, the curls of your hair soft against the pillow.

Her thighs. Soft, warm and pressing so real either side of your hips. She grinds herself down on your crotch and though you are scared, shit scared, she has coaxed you hard. Good mama, good teacher of blood red lips and frightened little boys.

Luke, I give you this that I can never know myself. Your cock is plunged inside her and she squeezes you wet, squeezes you hot. My brutal messenger.

My banshee screams her orgasm aloud; its sound fills the night. You give a tiny groan and slump, exhausted.

I don't know where she's gone but I am still here (though it can't be true), and you are holding me as you drift off to sleep. The hollow at the front of your throat makes me cry and your precious shoulder is my pillow. I trace your rosebud lips with my finger for the first time in years.

"Good morning"
"I've got some news for you. Your brother contacted us this morning. It seems he's coming to visit."

My time to speak has come. I clear my throat to prepare for what I shall say.

It is a good word. I put a lot of thought into it.

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