One More Time

Author: Suzanne Borchers

I pinch my arm. “Ouch!” It’s real! I might have met him only a few hours ago, but I know.

I’m traveling to Xeron with my soul mate.

“It’s not going to happen,” my friends chant, mired in the gooey slime here on Syren. They are so wrong. That party, filled with its brilliant lights, mind-jolting drinks, and his kisses on my neck and breasts, convinced me that I have to catch the ship to Xeron with my love.

Well, I am on my way. Suited up and ready. I’m laughing. Even with the heavy supplies’ pack on my back, I feel light and drawn to his ship. It’s only a few hundred paces away. He’s waiting for me. Or he would be if he knew I was coming. But he must know I’m coming. He must feel it.

I am invincible! I lust for him! So what if Xeron is a mining planet of muscle-bound Puritans? My lover and I have more than enough passion to withstand all odds.

My boots suck farts as I pull them out of the mud, pushing toward the ship and my life-mate. Step by step, I stride toward my ship of dreams.

The fuel plumes tickle up the ship toward the sky. The engines rumble, anxiously awaiting my tread up the ladder to the open doorway.

How many heavy steps will I have to make?

Cripes, it’s getting hard to breathe. My feet are coated with tons of muck. Each time I haul my foot up I sway before I slap it down again in the slurry. Then I heave the next one in the air. Over and over, slower and slower; my breath punctuated with shallow coughs at each step.

Is the ship farther away than when I started this feckless march? Does it smirk at me? The plumes mock me with their dances up the shiny ship’s body. So much erotic energy compared to my plodding, painful steps.

I’m crushed! The weight on my back is too heavy. I can’t take one more step.

I tumble my backpack of supplies into the muck at my feet.

Lighter, I push on with a giant step toward the ship. His welcoming arms will embrace me.

I overbalance!

My face sinks into the soupy earth. Oh, what a soft pillow. My body feels caressed by its enveloping richness.

Engines pound and he ascends, leaving me alone.

Alone!

How could he leave me here? In his choice between my life-giving love and his selfish career, how could he choose so wrong? I’m awesome!

He’s a fool.

I hope you enjoy your back-breaking work on that sterile planet. I hope you enjoy your slab of rock. You’re a fool, sucker. You could have enjoyed me.

I lie in the mud.

I breathe.

I think.

I know where there’s another party happening in the settlement tonight. Perhaps I’ll meet my true love in the crush of lonely travelers seeking pleasure.

Cripes, I need a shower.

I labor to my feet and turn toward my friends.

Maybe I’ll wear the golden slip tonight with green highlights in my hair.

5 Comments

  1. SimonJM

    Loved the sudden ‘lurch’ in language from the almost purple prose of infatuation to the lumpen proletariat of the swamp-like trudge and back

  2. Jae

    Infatuated party beings and exploitative frontier practices. Good contrast, excellent perspective.

    • Suzanne Borchers

      Thank you!

  3. xdhz8

    Good story with nice use of imagery.

    • Suzanne Borchers

      Thank you!

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