Blinding Peak of Passion

Image of a fire burning stacked wood on the sand in the dark.
Photo by Nelson Roque on Unsplash

Warning: Mentions violence, rape

Nolan stared into the dancing flames of the fire, barely listening to those around him. His mind traveled back to the last time he had been on this beach. The last time he had seen Bronwyn.

Their bodies move to the music only they can hear, their eyes locked together in an intimate embrace. She looks up at him, pure devotion written all over her face.

“Let’s share scary stories!”

This pulled Nolan from his memory, and he turned his head to the speaker, the same as the rest did.

“That’s so lame, Sophie,” one man said. “We’re not college students anymore.”

Another exclaimed: “Spooky stories around the campfire. Immature stuff, if you ask me.”

After graduation from med school, they had partied, right here on the beach, before they parted ways to work in different cities. They had vowed five years later they would meet each other around the campfire again.

Not all of them were here.

Nolan pulls Bronwyn closer, happy the others have finally left. Tonight’s the night, he has decided. The night they will seal their love before departing to opposite parts of the country.

“Sometimes, when I’m on nights, I see patients.”

The man speaking looked dead serious.

“Obviously,” the others laughed, but their laughter instantly quieted when the same speaker said: “Dead patients.”

“Oh, come on,” a woman exclaimed, “seriously, can’t you come up with anything better?”

He continued as if he hadn’t heard her: “One night a patient woke me, her hand on my shoulder, blood streaming down her face. I had been on call when they brought her into the emergency room, and she died under my care. Did everything I could to save her. Her eyes… angry, filled with fire… they bored into mine. I swear, it wasn’t a dream. She was right there in front of me…”

Bronwyn’s face beckoned Nolan’s attention back to the flames of the campfire.

He pulls her to the sand with him, close to the fire, and slips his hand under her blouse. She pushes her body upward and locks her lips with his. A moan escapes her when he pushes his hand under her short skirt and into her panties. She wriggles under him when his finger finds her moist center. Wriggles even more when her desire meets his with a deep guttural moan.

Bronwyn’s face danced in the fire, rage in her eyes. Nolan shook his head. The image made no sense. The image dissipated with the words from his fellow doctors.

“Imagine a dead patient chasing you with an axe,” he heard one of his friends say.

“Or using a scalpel on you while you’re wide awake,” another added.

“Lame…” someone else said, but Nolan’s thoughts drifted off again. Bronwyn’s distorted face swayed in unison with the flames.

She claws at him; her legs kicking and spreading in pure desire when she invites him in. Her hunger fuels his. The more she moans and screams and squirms, the harder he tries to hold her body still; the quicker he moves, the more he makes her his.

When their mutual climaxes die down — he’s sure he has heard her cry out at the peak of her passion — he tries to kiss her. Her eyes are closed, her body limp.

Looking into the fire, her lips move.

“You left me there, Nolan. Left me for dead, you coward.”

Her voice was so real, he wanted to answer her. It had been his secret for five years now, and would always remain his secret.

Her fire-image spoke to him again, her voice loud and clear, filling the surrounding air.

“You raped me, Nolan. Mistook my screams for passion, my movement for surrender. You were so blinded by your drunken passion, you didn’t realize you choked me.”

Nolan looked around in panic, afraid the others might hear the voice in the fire. He had lived with this nightmare for years; afraid every day they would find her body.

All eyes were on him; the scary stories had stilled on their lips.

“You thought the high tide took me.”

Nolan registered the horror on the faces of his friends at the same time as he felt the sting in his neck and saw Bronwyn’s face close to his.

“I survived, and now it’s my turn to have my way with you…” were the last words he heard before the blackness took him.

© Rebel’s Notes

This post first appeared on my Medium profile, where you can read more of my work that is exclusive to Medium. You can read three stories for free on Medium each month, but for just $5 a month (less if you sign up for a year) you can read everything on Medium, and support me, and other writers you like.

Wicked Wednesday stops at the end of the year. Currently, there’s a challenge to complete 25 prompts by 31 December. Following the clever example of others, here you see the prompts I have already completed. My goal is to write for every one of the Wicked Wednesday Bingo Prompts. Join in!
This story answers to the prompt: elements

My stories for the prompts are:

  1. Harmony In Flowers (language of flowers)
  2. Listening To Her Inner Voice (intimacy and self-esteem)
  3. Annual Meeting On Summer Solstice (summer solstice)
  4. The Healing Power Of A Penis Masturbator (phases of life)
  5. To Love Is A Choice (to love is a choice)
  6. Live The Life You Want (scary stuff)
  7. Dinner With Caren (career success)
  8. Snippets of Kindness (magical power)
  9. The Future Express (morals)
  10. The African Sunrise & Heartbeat (music memoir)
  11. The Last Moments Of A Decaying Life (redemption)
  12. Therapy Needed; Camping It Is (addiction)
  13. Voice Of Victory (loving yourself)
  14. Climbing To The Summit Of Mount Everest (nature’s beauty)
  15. The Magic of Marriage (being you)
  16. Good Fences Make Good Neighbors (family life)
  17. The story above (element: fire)

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