A tempest in time took her to him, then him and her to here, a cabin by a lake, in a valley, in a mountain, in a place that no map remembers.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to actual events, characters, persons, alive or dead or beings of Earth or the multiverse, past, present or future, is purely coincidental. Unless, of course, I’m psychic, in which case this a work of non-fiction. But I highly doubt that, I’m not that attuned. I mean if I was, I’d have won Powerball by now and been able to afford creative writing classes and a proofreader.Be forewarned, these writings may trigger some issue or issues that you have, either by the language used or it’s content in general. If you are one to get bothered by every little thing, just close it now and step away from wherever the hell it is that you are reading this.




Chapter 2 – A Fate That Binds

Morning comes, very different to her this time. The scent of strawberries, fruits and freshly cooked fish tease at her nose and stir her taste buds. The sounds of footsteps and toil ring unfamiliar against the usual quiet as the fragrant wisps of jasmine and rose petal tea sensuously entice her awake. She starts to rise but her body relents. It’s endeavour is done and she is spent. The weeks worth of toil now make their plea but she refuses to surrender to it. She fights the fatigue and attempts to rise once more but the patchwork bedding gives her no purchase and she slips back to the bunk with an ungraceful thunk.

 He hears the rustle of cloth and crosses the room with unsteady but determined steps. A wooden platter, with a variety of food and drink carefully arranged upon it, teeters on his palm. It shakes tenuously with every uneasy foot fall, but it never leaves his hand.

 She sees him up and energetic and smiles. Her arms push on the sleep-shod bedding and she struggles to her elbows’ prop as he approaches, refusing to give in to the heaviness that grips her. The blanket falls from her breast, with no hint of embarrassment. She has, after all, been bare in his presence since the day they arrived. As he’s been to hers from that same fateful moment out of time where they met.

 He places the tray on the chair and takes a seat on the bed next to her. He sidles to the headboard, positioning himself behind her and affectionately helps her sit up. She braces her back to his chest and relishes in his warmth. They flow together just like the way he gathers it should. He doesn’t know why he feels this. It’s just a comfortable, fluid endeavour, like water flowing over polished rock in a smooth rolling stream.

They stay together this way, for a spell, enjoying a meal made from both of their harvests. With every bite he gives her, she smiles. With every sip of tea, that he puts to her lips, she catches his eye and a quiet affinity travels between them.