You Can Fly
Entry by: Al's Mam
16th August 2024
You Can Fly
"Fly me to the moon," she said as she perched drunkenly on the edge of the parapet.The Indian ocean sparkled in the night air behind her as she threw back her long black air into the shape shifting breeze which ruffled the twilight hour before dawn.
"You can fly" he said looking at her amusedly as he fingered the long stem of his fluted champagne glass. There were no tourists around the old Kasbah at this hour but by sun up the bustle of the quays below as traders loaded and unloaded the consignments of spices for market would be gloriously alive.
He brought up Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata on his phone and took her arm as he led her into the centre of the rooftop. Giddily she let his fingers move between hers and disentangle them from her champagne glass dropping it to the ground. It rolled away on an impish wind which carried cigarette butts and unswept up tourist tickets over the edge of the wall leaving no trace of the previous day behind.
They had met here yesterday in the blinding white heat of the afternoon.She was shy around him at first and he was forthright telling her how much he had admired her first novel.They had only met through mutual friends three weeks ago and already it seemed as if an eternal present had manifested between them.She loved the lemon and sandalwood scent of his aftershave, the thrill of his touch, the haughty fire in his whirlpool brown eyes. Because he was Muslim and already betrothed he couldn't be seen with her in his home town which was seventy miles up the coast.Yes he would soon marry a virtuous young women wearing a burka whose thoughts and feelings were subservient to her creed. But she didn't mind being his harlot. They were both twenty-one and feeling very unvirtuous.
Her flight was in the morning to Madrid and a return to her life on campus at the University of Seville fought to return to her consciousness unsuccessfully. You should get a first her tutor Manuel assured her with the light of love in his eyes.She had shied away from him. Married men were trouble, her elegant divorced mother warned her strenuously, and somewhere in herself she found the truth of this.
Betrothed young Muslims were far off then, on her never-ending radar of dreams. But the life force in her always drew her dreams to her. They moved closer together and as he held her in his arms and stroked each tendril of her luscious hair, she merged her wild heartbeat with the reassuring cadences of his. The dawn wind played with them raising goosebumps on their bare arms. "I feel I love you," he said a little sadly and then unexpectedly pushed her out from him. He turned his back and she felt the blade of his silence before they heard the Muzzein call. Though he had no prayer mat he fell to his knees to face a sensuous sun sliding up over the ocean below. She was pierced by the call and suddenly longed for home.
"Fly me to the moon," she said as she perched drunkenly on the edge of the parapet.The Indian ocean sparkled in the night air behind her as she threw back her long black air into the shape shifting breeze which ruffled the twilight hour before dawn.
"You can fly" he said looking at her amusedly as he fingered the long stem of his fluted champagne glass. There were no tourists around the old Kasbah at this hour but by sun up the bustle of the quays below as traders loaded and unloaded the consignments of spices for market would be gloriously alive.
He brought up Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata on his phone and took her arm as he led her into the centre of the rooftop. Giddily she let his fingers move between hers and disentangle them from her champagne glass dropping it to the ground. It rolled away on an impish wind which carried cigarette butts and unswept up tourist tickets over the edge of the wall leaving no trace of the previous day behind.
They had met here yesterday in the blinding white heat of the afternoon.She was shy around him at first and he was forthright telling her how much he had admired her first novel.They had only met through mutual friends three weeks ago and already it seemed as if an eternal present had manifested between them.She loved the lemon and sandalwood scent of his aftershave, the thrill of his touch, the haughty fire in his whirlpool brown eyes. Because he was Muslim and already betrothed he couldn't be seen with her in his home town which was seventy miles up the coast.Yes he would soon marry a virtuous young women wearing a burka whose thoughts and feelings were subservient to her creed. But she didn't mind being his harlot. They were both twenty-one and feeling very unvirtuous.
Her flight was in the morning to Madrid and a return to her life on campus at the University of Seville fought to return to her consciousness unsuccessfully. You should get a first her tutor Manuel assured her with the light of love in his eyes.She had shied away from him. Married men were trouble, her elegant divorced mother warned her strenuously, and somewhere in herself she found the truth of this.
Betrothed young Muslims were far off then, on her never-ending radar of dreams. But the life force in her always drew her dreams to her. They moved closer together and as he held her in his arms and stroked each tendril of her luscious hair, she merged her wild heartbeat with the reassuring cadences of his. The dawn wind played with them raising goosebumps on their bare arms. "I feel I love you," he said a little sadly and then unexpectedly pushed her out from him. He turned his back and she felt the blade of his silence before they heard the Muzzein call. Though he had no prayer mat he fell to his knees to face a sensuous sun sliding up over the ocean below. She was pierced by the call and suddenly longed for home.
Follow us on Twitter
Follow us on Instagram