Saturday, 20 September 2014

Halloween Dream by Olley White

As I mentioned a couple of posts ago, last month in the clubhouse there were two Unicorn birthdays. I shared one story with you, now it's time for the other. While Plum Celestial Moon is all about daddies and fun, Fern Sweet Legs likes the more ethereal, whimsical love. So for her I wrote Halloween Dream. My inspiration can be found here and here. Enjoy. 

Halloween Dream by Olley White
It was dark as they made their way into Old Priory woods. Silver moonlight reflected off trees and cast shadows all around. Tendrils of fog edged the forest floor, wispy hands claiming the feet of the small group. Olivier’s heart was beating particularly fast, but he wasn’t going to admit that to anyone. He adjusted his hat and shivered in the freezing October air, steampunk perhaps hadn’t been the most sensible style to wear this All Hallows Eve, he reflected.

“Where’s this ruin then?” asked Kari, in an almost bored voice. Olivier wasn’t sure how she managed to sound jaded, when his heart was thumping so loudly he was certain the others could hear it. Haunted houses were not his thing, so not his thing. But sometimes you just had to go with the flow. A twig cracked behind him and he spun round straight into the laughing clown mask Rob was wearing.
“Fuck off!” he said, with just slightly less malice than he felt. He hated Halloween with a passion, always had and always would. Yet every year he got dragged into something. This was the worst idea to date though, a visit to a haunted house. Haunted his foot – just because it was an abandoned building didn’t mean it was haunted.

“So?” Kari asked again.

“Not far.” Rob leapt ahead and executed a pratfall in front of the Goth-clothed girl. Olivier snorted. Girls may not be his area of expertise, but he was pretty sure Rob was not going to get the attention he craved from Kari by acting the fool. While the rest of the group tried to outwit and out-scare each other, Olivier just carried on quietly behind.

After a few more minutes, the sound of creepy music drifted through the air towards them. Olivier wasn’t sure, but his guess would have been music from an old horror film score. They were nearly at the house then. Great, just a few hours of drunken antics to get through and then he could go home. If he agreed to this next year he hoped somebody would shoot him.

He followed the group to the edge of the tree line and got his first glimpse of the building. He took in the spectacle in front of him, the ornate iron gates that hung from tall posts resting atop a crumbling wall. The riot of plants that twined round and up and over everything. Brambles, he realised as he stepped closer.

The house beyond was majestic against the silver, moonlit sky. Dark and domineering, it spoke of majesty and power, the decaying rot at its core only visible when Olivier was nearly in its grasp. Unlike any other Halloween party he had ever attended Olivier was surprised to find a lack of thumping music and rowdy drunks. Sure, the eerie film music was still playing, but it was a world away from the heavy beat he had been expecting. Even Kari showed some signs of being impressed.

“Welcome to the house of fate.” A faery materialised as if out of nowhere. Glittering wings twinkled in the moonlight and the slender body shimmered like spun silver. The face though, the face was a monstrous parody of beauty – a cartoon faery face on a body of ethereal beauty. Ironic, Olivier supposed as he pulled his eyes away from the painted on horror. Over-large eyes and super-full lips maybe the designers’ idea of beautiful but in real life they just looked monstrous.

“Tonight belongs to the spirits and the fae, both good and bad, your experience is theirs to with as they please. Pleasure or pain, it is not our choice. May your evening be...fulfilling.” Olivier shivered at the words that fell from the faery’s lips and a shudder worked down his spine. It was barely ten o’clock; he had at least two hours before he could leave.

“Whatever,” said Kari. “Come on Rob, I need to find some beer.”

Olivier was starting to follow them when he felt a tug at his arm. The faery was looking at him, a strange expression on her face. Olivier started. The face was different. Before it had been only beauty in an artificial imitation. Grotesque and ugly in its quest for beauty but the features were the most beautiful he had ever seen. Delicate and chiselled and almost painful to look upon.
“If you want your night to be everything you’ve dreamt of don’t follow them, find your own way. The house is old and full of treasure for those who seek honestly.”

“Wha...” Olivier started before a loud clang made him jump and turn around. The rusty gate was being pushed by a Freddy Kruger impersonator. The girl with him in a tight cat suit laughed and clapped at his antics. Olivier turned back to the faery...but there was no sign of her. The garden behind him was empty, save for the over-grown plants, silvery moonlight and low-creeping fog.

The fog was illuminated by the soft shine of the moon and looked for all the world like a path through the night. Something pulled inside of him, begging him to follow and hopelessly, helplessly he did. Soft music enticed him, curling through the air, a delicate tinkling sound yet more powerful than anything Olivier had ever heard. He strained to hear the sound of the film score that had been playing or for the noise of the other guests, but hard as he tried he couldn’t hear anything other than the gentle, calling notes.

Letting himself be wrapped in their soothing sound he let himself be lead by the sound and the light and moved away from the front of the house to a garden that was full and beautiful and showing no signs of decay.

While the fog swirled around the edges, inside the garden, lit bright by the night sky, there was none. Roses bobbed in a non-existent breeze and Olivier couldn’t ignore the urge to push his nose into one and draw in the heady perfume. The air, he realised, was full of the scent of lavender and honeysuckle. Part of him realised that this was not possible at this time of the year. That summer had passed and autumn was here, the time for death among plants before regeneration. This garden though was full of life, and Olivier wandered from one plant to the next joyful in the beauty they exuded.
He drifted along, no longer cold in the October evening, no longer tired or worried or fed up of Halloween. There was no urge to find his friends, to seek company, he was happy alone...yet when his eyes caught sight of the lithe limbed boy stretching under a rose covered arbour he wanted nothing more than to be with him.

“Hi,” the boy said shyly as Olivier drew close. “My name is Joaquin.”

Joaquin was the most stunning person Olivier had ever seen. Naked but for some silky black lingerie, a soft black shrug and fishnet stockings, his body lean and delicate and beautiful. His feet were clad in high platform shoes, both gentle and masculine at the same time. His eyes were outlined in black, defining the perfect slant of them, and fingerless-leather gloves covered his hands.

“I’m Olivier,” he said moving forward towards the boy. He wasn’t aware of making this decision consciously, but he knew it was what he wanted.

“I know,” said Joaquin and then no more words passed between them. Joaquin’s mouth was soft and tasted of strawberries. Sweet and tasty and so moreish. A tongue licked at Olivier’s lips til they parted and then wisped inside, searching and seeking, though Olivier knew not for what.

Olivier’s hands found their way round Joaquin’s body and despite the night, it was warm to touch. Warm and smooth and he traced his fingers up over the delicately defined muscles and the sensitive nipples that hardened beneath his fingers. The gasp Olivier gave as he traced back down to toy with them further had him hardening in his leather trousers. Knowingly Joaquin reached for the zip, tugging it down and exposing Olivier to the night air. Groaning Olivier returned the favour, pushing his hands inside the silky scrap around Joaquin’s groin and pushing it down.

The cock that sprung free was as perfect as the rest of him, Olivier realised, shyly taking hold of it. Joaquin pulled back and offered a shy smile before enveloping both their cocks together and gliding his hand up and down. In the enchantment of this unknown garden Olivier’s soul began to sing. The pulling in his core was more than he’d ever felt before, yet it was kind and gentle and so, so magic. Need built and rose and grew inside him. A yearning that was more than just physical. Long, cool fingers fondled his balls, the motion so unexpected, so wonderful, that orgasm rose and Olivier came. Colour and light and a million sparks flooded his body. A need he’d never felt before, a satisfaction so complete he found it hard to believe.

He drew back a little, not enough to break contact, but enough to watch as Joaquin found his own pleasure. As the beautiful almond shaped eyes widened and a delicate huff of breath left his body. Come, as warm and sweet-scented as the perfumed night air spilled from Joaquin  and Olivier realised, he never wanted to leave this place, not ever.

“But you must,” whispered Joaquin, though Olivier had not voiced the thought out loud. “You must. If you stay you will always belong here. If you leave, don’t look back, just go, then maybe we can both be free.”

Olivier didn’t want to...he wanted to stay here, to never leave to be with Joaquin always.
“But you must.” Joaquin’s voice was but a whisper as he re-dressed them both. “I can never leave if you don’t go now. Now with the taste and smell and feel of me on you. Only then can I be free.” Tears laced his eyes, threatening to spill down his perfect cheeks. One last strawberry kiss was placed on Olivier’s lips then Joaquin pushed him and Olivier took a step backwards.

He could feel the truth of what Joaquin said, yet he did not know how it was possible. He took another step back and pain zapped through him, an ache, bearable but strong. He looked at Joaquin and took another step back, then another.

“Go.” The words were whispered but he knew they were important. “Look around, don’t watch me” And so he did and the fog that had stayed out of the garden was working its way in. The roses, so full not minutes earlier, were dying and brittle. As he breathed in he noticed the air no longer smelt like lavender and honeysuckle but the dank, rotted smell of dead leaves and dying autumn foliage. He looked to the arbour, needing to see Joaquin before he left the garden completely...but there was nothing there. Only a tumble-down structure framed with decaying stems.

Unbelievable sadness caught in his throat and he turned and fled. Back through the tangle of brambles and the rusting gates. Past the house that bore all the signs of a college Halloween party, back through the woods and town til he was home in his own room.

That night he dreamt of almond eyes, black silk and roses.


The gift-shop where Olivier worked was thriving as shoppers looking for early Christmas bargains searched the shelves and rails. Olivier was wrapping a delicate ivory coloured photo frame in pale pink tissue paper and thinking about the paper he had to finish before the end of term, when the sound of wind chimes filled the shop. He paused in his task and looked up, but nobody else showed any signs of having heard. He carried on wrapping until the subtle scent of roses made him pause again. This time as he looked up his eyes found those that had been haunting his dreams.

Joaquin was looking straight at him, a grin playing across his perfect mouth. He was different, though Olivier couldn’t put a finger on why. He passed over the gift wrapped frame and took the customers money, repeating this action until it was Joaquin standing in front of him. He took the faery statue from Joaquin’s hands and chose silver tissue to wrap it in, barely able to suppress the shaking that had started in his hands.

“Hush,” said a rose-scented scented voice in his ear. “I’m different because I am real now. I am here and real and we will have forever.”