Bait
by Richard Levangie
It began with sweetness and light. A soft, subtle symphony like crystal brooks that I leaned closer to hear.
Then she had me. I was drunk on her beauty, yes, by the scent and taste of her. With each electric tryst, small waves of lust deluged and darkened my mind. With each intense, unhurried pleasuring, I found more of her, and less of me.
Now submerged both sinew and soul, I was helpless. Such perfection of feeling, like I was newly-born. I had never known anyone else before, would never know anyone again. I was oblivious to the cascade, knowing only the delight, rushing like water.
I have always thought myself honorable and unchanging, as constant as the Nile. What a wicked game, seeking that sunken jewel. Before I saw the truth, I had been swept away. I had lost my handhold, my self.
Now, was it my idea? I really can’t say. I can parrot our pillow talk like lines from a play, and my heart still floods with release. But when was the kernel planted? It matters not. Mine is the voyage of damned. If she led me to it, she found no barricades of my making.
So I made plans both rational and unholy; my genius was unleashed. I laid strangling snares, baited silver hooks. In other circumstances, I would have pitied him. But now, he was in my way.
Yes, he would die. And I would kill him.
The devil is in the details.
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Listening for the words in a quiet corner of the night. The fiction, poetry, and photography of Jason Evans.
About Me
- Aine
- Collaborator and night owl.
Past Contests
- "Elemental" Short Fiction Contest
- "Uncovered" Short Fiction Contest
- "Silhouette" Short Fiction Contest
- "In Vino Veritas" Short Fiction Contest
- "Ascension" Short Fiction Contest
- "Running Wind" Short Fiction Contest
- "Whispers" Short Fiction Contest
- "Restless Dawn" Short Fiction Contest
- "Halo" Short Fiction Contest
- "Endless Hour" Short Fiction Contest
- "Silent Grey" Short Fiction Contest
- "Lonely Moon" Short Fiction Contest (with Anne Frasier)
- "Midnight Road" Short Fiction Contest
- "Two Lights" Short Fiction Contest
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30 comments:
I'm seduced by the lyricism of this, the inexorable descent of the narrator into self- deprecating bitterness. Very compelling.
Really excellent writing Richard, the helpless, blind and lustful plunge into hell was delicious to read.
Very lyrical, very evocative, very sensual. Now I need to brush up on my John Donne.
The devil is in the details. It always is. :)
There you go, seducing women again, Richard.
Very sensual, seductive, liked "he would die. And I would kill him." right in the middle of feeling seduced....
Dottie :)
i like the constant reference to water, a feminine element - while the narrator represents a masculine voice (and presence) throughout the story.
Oh, wow. Beautiful and wretched. For me, this evokes shades of Nabokov, especially the fifth paragraph.
Amazing.
Exquisite writing, Richard.
Regards,
Col
My my, such brazen sensuousness. "What a wicked game, seeking that sunken jewel."
This surprised me, Richard. And in a good way.
I found more of her, and less of me. This is especially nice. But I really enjoyed how deftly you carried the metaphor of being swept away and how the language seemed to indulge (and even luxuriate in) those feelings of helplessness. Very well done.
Precie: Thanks for commenting, and the kind words. You’ve earned a special place in my heart.
Cat: I was glad to find you here; I didn’t know you were a CoN aficionado. I appreciate the compliment.
Steve: Thanks for reading. I’m not sure anyone should brush up on Donne during the gorgeous German summer.
Aimee: I appreciate the comment.
Aerin: Thanks for reading. I notice when you don’t like something, you change the subject, so... I wasn’t planning to enter until Monday when I woke up and this vignette seemed to be waiting for me. I love when that happens.
Dottie: Thank you! My intention was to combine lyricism with bold-faced practicality. Glad you liked it.
SzélsőFa: Thanks for noticing... To the extent that I rewrote, it was to keep the water metaphor flowing
J.A.: Gosh, Nabakov? You made my day! Okay, my month!
Col: Thank you, and thanks for reading!
Tori: Thanks. I write MG and YA, so dipping my toes in "The Postman Always Rings Twice" was a fun exercise.
Sarah: LOL... Not sure what to think of the first bit, but I’m always glad to surprise. Thanks for the kind words.
The imagery is evocative and tantalizing! My husband often tells me that I don't know the power I have over him, and I always thought he was just teasing... ;) ~Jana A
And you thought mine was disturbing! LOL I enjoyed this. Nice description and good twist at the end!
Bluesugar — He most certainly was not teasing! Men never lie about such things.
I know, Lisa... LOL. When I first thought about entering, I wanted to create something light and airy, but that inspiration never arrived. Except for the opening paragraph, I guess.
Thanks to you both for reading!
What a swift and dark descent. I was drawn into it as much as the protagonist.
However, this could have taken an interesting turn if it had been a fishing story!
Wonderful, Richard.
Nice description of descent into the control of a woman. Wow.
I think I saw a lot of myself in this, kind of scary, but well worth it. I continue to be humbled by the talent on display in every one of these entries.
'voyage of the damned' perhaps, but you make it so enticing. I want a silver hook. I hope the devil is in that detail. Loved this.
The narrator is well and truly hooked!!!! Very sensual and such a sexy read, thank you. Take care
x
There was a rhythmic rush of lyricism to this tale that grabbed hold and wouldn't let go. Your narrator's voice radiated from the page, guiding me every step of the way. The language was beautiful. Excellent work.
Thank you for sharing!
"With each intense, unhurried pleasuring, I found more of her, and less of me." Great line!
This is a story of the depths to which desire can drive a soul held in its throes. To possess the object of desire completely, a man is willing to commit the unspeakable act of murder. Yet, he asks us to believe that the seed of murder was planted by his lover while they engaged in tender moments of pillow talk. Maybe or maybe not— because even he admits that he cannot emphatically say, but in desperation attempts to cast a shadow of doubt as to his complete and utter culpability. What we do know for certain is that he confessed of his own volition: 'I made plans both rational and unholy.' No, this is not a crime of passion, but a willful act of murder, planned and executed by one person—and one person only—a manipulative seducer and not the seduced. The prosecution rests, your Honor.
A beautiful pleasure. I like how it opens with hope and lightness and turns darker with each paragraph delivering on the tension it creates.
"... soft, subtle symphony [...] that I leaned closer to hear."
"... I found more of her, and less of me."
"I had never known anyone else before, would never know anyone again."
Richard, this is an inescapably seductive piece that found an answering note on my heartstrings. Beautifully wrought, lyricism in prose, and a perfect twist at the end. I want to step in and save your protagonist before he wields the weapon, that final leg in his "voyage of the damned", but would it do any good? I still refuse to accept he might be beyond redemption, but is he really?
You've gained a fan :)
Very, very, Very lyrical, reads almost like a poem. Would love to read more of your writing.
I assume it is her husband he murders, Richard. I love that he is aware of the corruption of his moral fibre and that he cares not a fig. You have achieved a stunning portrait of the corruption of lust here. Well done.
Very poetic indeed. Some of your sentences are like candies for the soul. Thank you for your warm comments and wishes. It is great to discover this community of writers building into one network of wrench souls! ;-)
I liked the exploration of the character's descent into powerlessness. The story is rally poised to launch at the end. Very well written.
Congrats on Forties Club!
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