writing from
Scars Publications

Audio/Video chapbooks cc&d magazine Down in the Dirt magazine books

 

This writing was accepted for publication
in the 84 page perfect-bound issue...
Down in the Dirt magazine (v106)
(the May 2012 Issue)




You can also order this 5.5" x 8.5" issue
as an ISSN# paperback book:
order issue


Down in the Dirt magazine cover

Order this writing
in the book
Purpose
(a Down in the Dirt
collection book)
Purpose (Down in the Dirt issue collection book) get the 230 page
May - July/Aug. 2012
Down in the Dirt magazine
issue collection
6" x 9" ISBN#
paperback book:

order ISBN# book

Order this writing in the book
After the Apocalypse
(prose edition)

(the 2012 prose
collection book)
After the Apocalypse (prose edition) (2012 prose collection book) issue collection book get this poem
collection
6" x 9" ISBN#
paperback book:

order ISBN# book

Mirage

Kerry Lown Whalen

    Ben trudged across campus to the drama theatre, a tin shed pitched on the foothills of Mount Stuart where fried fruit bats dangled like black rags from power lines and the odor of fermenting mangoes cloyed the air. Squinting in the glare, he yanked the peak of his cap lower, his head and body aching from a hangover. He thought about the beer he’d guzzled the night before at the student union. At closing time he’d been talking to the girl of his dreams – Kylie McBryde. He wished he could remember what he’d said; hoped he hadn’t ruined his chances with her. If it meant winning Kylie, he’d limit the beers he drank in future.
    On his desk at home stood a stack of unfinished assignments. He’d already been warned by his tutor. “You’re talented, Ben, but undisciplined. Unless you submit your assignments, you’ll fail.”
    He straightened his shoulders. Today he’d extend himself, show everyone what he could do.
    He ambled into the dim theatre where a cluster of whirring ceiling fans barely stirred the languid air. His fellow students drooped like thirsty flowers in the tropical heat. He gazed at the stage, his pulse quickening at the thought of being chosen to perform coveted roles. In the spotlight he was bold, powerful, a natural actor who delivered his lines effortlessly. When Kylie McBryde was there he was at his brilliant best. At these times he was a raging King Lear, a malevolent Macbeth. But off-stage he changed. When he looked into Kylie’s cornflower eyes his spit evaporated and his knees quaked; his tongue turned to jelly and his words to blah. In her presence he felt like a loser and it was doing his head in.
    Ben’s heart pounded when the tutor appeared centre stage and cleared his throat. In the practical exercise today, Ben needed maximum marks. With a clap of his hands, Trevor quietened the group.
    “As you know, this exercise is assessable. Follow my directions precisely.” Ben listened attentively. “For this task, everyone should stay where they are.”
    Ben wanted to leap into the air and click his heels because Kylie stood nearby, away from the idiots who mucked about with their mates or slumped moodily against the walls. She ignored everyone as she limbered up, doing arm and leg stretches and bending from the waist. His eyes slid sideways and remained on her body.
    “This exercise is to develop your sense of touch.” With the assurance of Olivier, Trevor strutted the stage and paused for effect. “You will be blindfolded.” Gasps and murmurs hung in the air as Trevor outlined his expectations. “You are to explore the face of another student. Touch their hair, ears and features.” Trevor leapt from the stage, gathered up an armful of black scarves and strode around the theatre, handing them out to students.
    He met Ben’s eyes. “You need top marks to stay in the course. Give it your best shot.”
    Ben nodded, dried his clammy hands on his shirt-front and held the blindfold. For the hundredth time he wished the university’s tin-shed-excuse for a theatre flowed with cold air. His fingertips grazed needle-point bristles as he tied the scarf in place. He cursed, wishing he’d shaved that morning. But he wouldn’t allow anything to distract him – right now he needed to concentrate. His breathing quickened at the chance to partner Kylie, to stand toe to toe, chest to chest and touch her face. He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Perhaps today Kylie would see another side of him – the cool dude – the smooth stud – the guy who was rapt in her. He ran a hand through his hair, sweat dripping from his face.
    Trevor returned to centre-stage. “Before starting the exercise, you’ll be disoriented. I want you to pirouette three times. Ready for the first spin?” He paused. “Turn now.”
    The group obeyed, their bare feet swiveling on the warm smooth boards. Ben wanted to sneak a look at Kylie but the blindfold prevented it. He calculated he had turned full circle. Trevor waited until the group steadied before sending them spinning a second time and, with every muscle clenched, Ben channeled a wish to the universe that Kylie remain within reach. On his third spin, he gabbled a prayer.

    Please God – make Kylie my partner and I promise I’ll finish my assignments – I’ll stop partying – I’ll do anything – absolutely anything – please, please, please, God.


    Trevor sounded a warning. “Take care while you’re blindfolded. I don’t want any accidents.”
    Ben’s prayer reverberated on his lips as he headed for Kylie, a sleepwalker with arms outstretched. He reached her, touched her shoulders, slid his hands down her arms and clasped her fingers in his. Relief loosened the tightness in his head and body. He was holding Kylie’s hands. Kylie’s hands!
    “You might be able to identify your partner, but don’t speak.” Ben heeded Trevor’s words and focused on slowing his breathing. “This is a non-verbal exercise, relying solely on your sense of touch. Take it in turns to touch your partner’s face. Start now.”
    With love in his hands, he reached for Kylie’s face. He caressed it softly, allowing his fingertips to linger on its contours, sweeping both hands upwards to lift her hair and let it drop, inhaling its fragrance as it fell to her shoulders. With every organ, muscle and sinew singing, he approached her lips and traced their shape. He teased them gently, his face moving close to hers. Attuned to her responses, he felt her breath on his cheek as he stroked the fine skin of her throat. His fingers resumed roaming, gliding up to the plane of her forehead, touching her eyebrows, skimming over the blindfold to her rounded cheeks and returning to trace her slightly-parted lips. As they wandered over her smooth features, his hands were creamy, honeyed, scented, the texture of her skin inscribing itself on his fingertips. Ben was aware of nothing but Kylie. Nothing existed for him but her and the moment.
    “Stop!” Trevor’s command split the air, halting Ben’s lovemaking, jolting him back to reality. “Blindfolds off. Open your eyes.”
    Tossing aside the blindfold, Ben stared in disbelief at the flushed face of Lindy Parker. Her mouth opened and syrup flowed.
    “You really know how to use your hands, Ben.” Her eyes shone as she swayed close to him. He felt her hand on his cheek. “I was so carried away that I forgot to touch your face. Sorry babe.”
    Gutted, aching, empty, he gazed into Lindy’s admiring eyes. A lead weight sat on his chest as he looked around to see who had partnered Kylie. His eyes scanned every corner but could not find her. She had vanished into the shimmering heat of a tropical afternoon. Trevor’s voice rang out, again interrupting Ben’s reverie.
    “Your final assignment is due next week. See you then.”
    The group muttered, collected their things, shouted their goodbyes and drifted out the door.
    Ben waited while Trevor bundled the scarves into a box. “How’d I go, Trev? Did I pass?”
    He nodded. “Top marks. You’re a natural Ben. Have great potential.”
    “Thanks.”
    Trevor paused. “This is personal, Ben. None of my business. But everyone knows you’re keen on Kylie.” Ben reddened, his chest tightened. “There’s something you need to know. Kylie’s not into guys.”



Scars Publications


Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.




Problems with this page? Then deal with it...