Week Four Writing

Automatic writing – sitting on a chair in a dark cave on the beach

It was dark. Too dark. The small shaft of light which trickled through the gap above my head wasn’t enough to allow me to see, which unnerved me greatly.

I don’t remember exactly how I got down here. Nor why it was imperative that I stay exactly where I am. But something told me that I must.

A cold wind rushed through the cave, sending a shiver down my spine. I hugged my arms close to my chest, sliding my hands up under my sleeves to keep warm. The scarf around my neck billowed and curled in the breeze, sending waves of cold air down the front of my shirt.

I wet my lips, suddenly aware of how thirsty I was.

I closed my eyes and imagined myself indoors, sat next to a warm fire, with a nice hot mug of chocolate. If I really put the effort in, I could almost feel the flames flickering at my feet, warming through my whole body. Was that really the smell of chocolate in the air, or just a part of my wishful thinking?

A loud noise brought me back to the cold dark cave. It sounded as if a part of the rockface had broken and shattered down to the floor. I was afraid, all of my senses alert for the sound of another rockfall. I knew well how easy it was to get buried alive in one of these underground caves. Far too deep for anyone to hear your cries for help.

I wanted to get up and run for my life, but my legs remained glued to the chair.

“Have a go at your own story about two people in a less conventional or stable relationship. It must contain a middle section that involves another location and other characters, and that middle section must in some way feed into the conclusion of the story.”

We met on a warm late summer evening; my parents had told me I needed to get out more, and so in an effort to please them, I had left the house. Given the fact I had no particular friends to speak of ready at such short notice, and nothing particularly to do, I found myself sat outside a café by the quayside, sipping coffee and absentmindedly reading my book.

I glanced up from my book as he brushed past my table at speed, knocking my coffee cup to the ground with the edge of his navy coat. As it fell, we both reached out in an attempt to catch it, and our heads butted against each other. The teacup smashed, spreading lukewarm coffee all over the floor, as we both rubbed our foreheads with a groan.

“I’m sorry.” I mumbled. My eyes drifted to the stranger; he had the silkiest dark black hair falling softly around his face, and a blue and green checked shirt poking out of the top of his coat collar.

His chin was stippled with dark stubble, his lips plump and pink, and his cheekbones were sharp enough to cut diamonds.

“It was my fault.” He looked up, meeting my eyes. My breath caught in my throat as I saw his grey-green eyes for the first time. For a moment, I felt as if time had stopped passing by, unable to move on from that instant. Perhaps I knew, even then, that something would happen between us.

His face turned softly into a handsome smile. “Are you alright?” he asked, his deep voice making my toes curl in my shoes.

I found myself beaming in response. “Quite alright.”

He stood up, holding his hand out to me. The second my fingers made contact with his palm I felt an electric spark shoot up my arm. He was easily a head taller than me, and I found myself imagining how heavenly it would be to rest my head in the crook of his shoulder.

“I’m Bradley.”

“Morwenna.” Noticing our hands were still intertwined, I slowly pulled mine from his warm grasp, much as though I was loath to do so.

For a moment, a silence fell between us, which I decided to fill: “Would you, perhaps, like to join me?” I asked, indicating the empty chair at my table.

He smiled. “I would like nothing better.”

I don’t know how long we sat talking, but it was past dark when the waiters essentially threw us out, and Bradley insisted on walking me home.

The walk home was unlike any other night; for one, I had this incredibly handsome man beside me, talking of something and nothing, and for another, the whole world seemed to have turned on its head in the space of a few hours.

When we reached my doorstep, he stood there, perfect in the night air, and I steeled my courage to the sticking point. “I wouldn’t usually be this forward, but would you like to come in for a nightcap?”

His smile dropped and his eyes fell to his boots. “As it’s so late, I think I should probably get back to my wife.”

I felt my heart plummet through the soles of my shoes. “Oh of course. I’m sorry.” I turned to the door, feeling the lock with my fingers, shaking with silent mortification and sadness.

He appeared at my back, so close that I gasped in a breath of air to steady myself. His hands hovered above my hips, the nearness of the almost-touch setting me on fire. When he lowered his head to the nape of my neck, I closed my eyes with a shudder. What on earth was this feeling?

“I want to see you again.”

“What?” I breathed, opening my eyes and turning around. His proximity was still unnerving, but I did my best to ignore it. “You have a wife.”

“Whom I don’t love.” He licked his lips, averting his eyes for a moment. “I’ve never felt the way I’ve felt tonight, and I know it’s not just me. Why would we throw away what this could be on a mere… technicality?”

I met his eyes, seeing the frankness in them. “It isn’t… it’s not…” But for the life of me, I couldn’t say what it wasn’t.

My perplexity clearly pleased him; he smiled. “Meet me on the pier tomorrow morning.” Grasping my hand and swiftly bringing it up to his lips for a delicate kiss, I had no time to collect my thoughts before he was gone.

Although I may have gone to bed with the full intention of never seeing him again, I somehow found myself standing on the pier the next morning. I saw him walk through the busy crowds, and when his eyes locked on me, he smiled the brightest smile I had ever seen. It was impossible not to mirror it.

That was how it began, and how it continued for almost a year.

The first night we spent together, he took me dancing. As we walked home, the heavens poured down upon us as we danced drowsily and drunkenly through the streets.

He shrugged off his jacket, noticing that my dress was becoming see-through as I got drenched in rain. It was far too big for me, but it smelt of him, and so I didn’t mind. That night, it could have rained hail stones down upon us like cats and dogs and I’d still have been happy. Nothing could dampen my mood, despite the dampness of my clothing.

When we reached my house, we stopped outside on the pavement, watching each other for a few moments in silence. Perhaps it was his wet hair, the droplets cascading slowly down his face. Or maybe it was his green eyes, the colour of fresh seaweed in the moonlight. Or even just as simple as having his strong arms around me.

I reached out, smoothing back the lapels of his coat and placed my hands on his chest through his shirt. Fascinated by the hardness of his muscle, my fingers itched to investigate this foreign body. I waited to hear his protest, but as none came, I ran my hands up his chest and placed my palms on his strong shoulders.

I heard him take a sharp breath in as I folded my arms around his neck and pulled my body up against his. Our eyes locked, and I saw a heat in those green eyes that I had only ever felt from the sun.

Tentatively, I closed my eyes, leaned up and pressed my lips to his, allowing my fingers to bury themselves into the silky soft hair at the back of his neck. After a few moments, I felt his hands on my back, holding me closer as he kissed me, the sensation both strange and seductive to me.

In that moment, we belonged fully to each other. I’d never experienced that before, and I was drunk on happiness.

That was how it always was with us. We were completely crazy about each other. He touched me, and I never wanted him to let go. I walked into a room and suddenly he couldn’t concentrate on anything but me. We were hypnotised by each other. Drunk on love.

I think the truth of the matter was that we were both lonely. He in a loveless marriage and I in my existence devoid of excitement and, more importantly, love. We had provided comfort to each other, and somehow become a little less lonely together.

Bradley represented all the things in life which I wanted but knew I couldn’t have. He was the forbidden fruit, and as we all know it tastes the sweetest.

I’ve heard it said that a soulmate only comes around once in a lifetime and they challenge you to your extremes. He came into my life and shook things up in a way I couldn’t anticipate. Despite the circumstances, he showed me true love.

Without him, my life seems empty. There is a whole in my heart. An empty place at my table. A cold space in my bed.

I tell myself it’s for the best. That it’s the moral thing for him to go back to his wife and try to make things work. But no matter how many times I say it, I’ll never believe this is the best way.