FEATURED STORY
SCRAWL OF DREAMS: Phantasmagoria Project
By Ra’Chaun Rogers
The full moon illuminated the room, casting a silvery sheet across the bed where I lay. Smoke drifted through space as I blew strange
unearthly shapes into the darkness.
“What are those?” Abby looked up at me and took the cigarette out of my mouth. She took two drags then blew out rings of fine smoke.
“Are they from Scrawl?”
I didn’t look at her. Instead I just raised my right hand which began to shimmer in the silvery bands of lunar luminescence. “No, but
this is.” We both looked at my hand as I turned it this way and that and then she grabbed it and laced her fingers through mine, her honeycolored skin mixing with my chocolate.
“It doesn’t look fake.” She ran her hand down my arm to my chest and to my manhood. “And this is definitely not fake.” I felt her converse with it. For a girl who didn’t like guys, she was very good at it.
I repositioned her so we could taste each other. I’d been working with her for four years and I’d be lying if I said screwing her wasn’t
something I’d thought about on many occasions. These circumstances are as good as any. No strings just a pleasure situation.
She turned back around and mounted me, her eyes fluttered as we got into rhythm. It wasn’t hard. We’d been at this for a while. I
gripped her hips and pulled myself up toward her, pressing my head against her breasts.
She wrapped her hands around my head cradling me, almost as if to say, I’d make you happy if I could. But I know I can’t.
I turned her over onto her back and she wrapped her legs around my waist, our fingers laced and we looked into each others eyes. . . as
if to divine whether or not we were both really there or just using it to mask our lost hopes and sad lives. Or maybe just mine. Had we been
paying any attention, we would would have noticed the faint buzzing of a phone. We finished at about the same time. I was, to my credit,
able to hang on while she convulsed around me.
“Thanks, that was fun.” She rolled over and looked at her phone. “I’ve gotta go, okay? Try not to kill yourself while I’m gone, Jace.”
“I promise nothing,” I chuckled as she began to dress. “Come back whenever you want.”
“I don’t know if I’ll want to.” She looked down at me from her standing position, with melancholic eyes. The same eyes she always had
when she had bad news. “That was Kris. She wants to meet and try to patch things up.”
This happened once every six months. She and her girlfriend of three years would get into it bad