Member-only story
My Honeysuckle Sweet Girl
She was a vision, and she was mine.
I won’t tell you her name: I want her to remain in my thoughts alone, the sanctuary of my body, where I can keep her from the taint of the world around us. If anyone should never be harmed, it is she — my muse, my love, my bride from another life.
She would tell you I’m crazy. She’d bite her bottom lip and shake her head as if I were just an illusion concocted just for her. But I’m flesh and blood. Sometimes I think she forgets that. She forgets that somewhere out there is the reality of me: a man to hold, a man to speak to in low whispers, a man who wants to make love to her until we’re both spent under a full moon.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
She is the reason we’re all here.
I know. It sounds mad. It sounds like a lie. But every story has its seed of truth.
Once upon a time, she was supposed to kill me with her kiss. It was her curse, born from wicked means and an even more wicked mother, to see that her first love would meet the grave if he ever happened to lay his lips upon hers.
It was archaic shit, to be sure.
But it was a type of magic that made the world go ‘round and ‘round. Who was I to question it? As long as it did more good than bad, I didn’t…
