Led by the Serpent

January 20, 2017

fist

Diary 18th January

What a busy little bee I’ve been. And yet I did manage to go out walking yesterday afternoon. It was a beautiful day full of sun, but cold for all that. Views to the coast from the top of the hill. Today, too, the weather is s’posed to be fine. So I’ll get out again later for a tramp across the moor.

Finished my story “A day-return to the Isle of the Dead”. Started a new, untitled story yesterday. Autobiographical in part, which is unusual for me.

The sky at dusk streaked pink.

19th January

Sleepless night and cold morning.

Walked up to the mast with Dee yesterday afternoon. Islands of gorse flowering everywhere. Confused by the mild weather, I s’pose. A cold breeze, however.

No one about on the moor. Dee opened my jeans. ‘Someone might come,’ I protested. ‘That’ll be you in a minute,’ her teasing reply.

Led off the path by my thing. Normally I walk here alone with only my ghosts for company. I hear a rhythmic clip clopping from behind. Glancing back. There is a woman on horseback trotting towards us. She can see quite clearly what Dee is doing. As she passes she calls, ‘Good afternoon,’ to us, a huge grin on her narrow face.

‘Afternoon,’ replies Dee, without slowing the rapid motion of her hand.

This horsey woman keeps looking back over her shoulder. Sees me cumming in Dee’s tight little fist. Waves her crop in the air, a salute to the God of handjobs. Disgusting to spy on us in that way. But Dee couldn’t stop laughing about it…

I feel strangely chained to this landscape. To its wild remoteness.

Went to the pub, drank Merlot in front of the roaring log fire. Cooked a vegetable casserole when we got home. Drank brandy and hot chocolate.

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