The eclipse settled upon the radiant sun, it was the Centurian’s Drop, a darkness that would envelope Earth for ten whole seconds, where no light, no sound would ever escape, except for the jangle of the ephemeral.

I was standing beside him in the concrete jungle of New Jersey, sighting the magnificent view of the eclipse, gradually slouching into his biceps, “Look! It’s beautiful!” the sound of my springtime came into life, setting our space close to none as we relished upon the wondrous, glorious gift of Mother Nature.

“Joy. I’m thinkin…” my hands reached for his well-built waist, pampering him with the contour of my tenderness, adjoining our tongues as the second ticks into eternity, singularity. His warmth against mine, in an open space that belonged all to us, people were staring, people were watching, we were living within each other, caring not about people, but only us.

As our limbs intertwined into the uncharted terrains of our respective physique, the world went dark, black, total darkness. We were still entwined in our world, not knowing what was going on. I realised the darkness, it was pitch black, he realised it too. He pulled me closer into his embrace, continue. telepathically, I obeyed, scavenging every inch of his body, being entranced by his delicate, lithe fingers, swaying back and forth in the gossamer thread of reality and fantasy.

Caressing his preeminence into mine. An aberration, a jangle, resplendent through our ears. A hiccup in our momentum, he knew something was wrong, I felt that no one was alive around us. His amorous, adorning gripped the facet of the uncertainty, careening it into an agog vagueness.

I felt our bodies were tighter against each other, the recondite external forces, clamping us into each other. Light seeped into the corner of our eyes, it was not the sun weaving smiles into the land, it was a glowing miraculously bright in the absolute darkness.

nine. He whispered under his breath. ten. The glow stopped in front of me, exposing its identity to me, a nonentity. After the count of ten, it dissipated into thin air, so did the people around us, except for those who were hugging each other, they were there, assuaged by the fact that they lived through a pre-apocalyptic attack, a queer one, and cherry picking us off by the unquatifiable atavistic nature in us.

Craving for more? Down below:
Unwarranted, Outmatched
Monologue with Him
Apparent Passenger
Face Twice
Close, But Not Close Enough

Jangle

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