The Lady and her Lizard Lover – A SHORT STORY

For a short and surprising period in my life I was dating this lizard. He was called Trevor. Talk about having ones belly ripped open. Bloody carnivorous reptiles. I should have known better – it was scary dating him. His scaly skin and forked tongue took a bit of getting used to. And everyone knows you shouldn’t mess with lizards, they’re poisonous for starters… at least the beautiful ones are. And anyway, at the end of the day, a lizard is a lizard.

He was beautiful though. Bright blue. It’s like he had been painted – you couldn’t believe such colour was natural but it was. What he was doing out of the jungle is anyone’s guess, I didn’t really want to ask, you got the feeling he was a bit ashamed of his jungle roots, you know? And anyway, who cared? It only added to his alarming glamour, his otherworldliness, and by questioning his presence would only make him disappear. And no one wanted that.

I was crazy for him, and my infatuation with him became a dirty dangerous time. But I have never felt so charged with life. He gave me new eyes, I could feel them welling and dripping with colours and light and a new world opened up.

Down in the dirt, in the earth where he liked to dwell, I saw things I didn’t know existed. I saw tunnels teeming with golden shelled workers, armies pattering past tiny networks of growing, intricate, flowering beginnings. I couldn’t believe I had never noticed what was right beneath our feet. Because beneath our feet begins everything. I could feel the ground pulsating with promise, which I never had before. I could feel the shadows of new sensations awaiting us, emotions poised to build and detail our hearts. And they were beginning here.

Fucking Trevor! My pupils would pull to his and I would gasp. Yellow green swirls of light would strip the grey sheen I tangled in before, to unveil the world, a stunning beautiful world that had been waiting to be discovered. I was blind but now I saw.

He never ever blinked.

What to tell you about that time. Claws that on touch tore at my skin. Fiery breath.  Pain that although made me uneasy I accepted as a leap of faith, a baptism of fire. The lizard and his lover. He’d coil around me and I would grow in confidence. I was his, and in my powerlessness and pain I felt overwhelmingly, ecstatically excited. I had chosen, I was chosen, and my grey existence suffused with colour.

Then one day I awoke and I was alone. I was grey and bruised and lying in putrid earth infested with worms and maggots. My eyes felt stiff. My head ached. And I was cold. I felt so stupid. I curled up my scorched body and sobbed.  I had wanted this. I danced with the devil believing I could keep up. I had yearned for it.  I had yearned for him. But I had not been enough. He had feasted and moved on.  He gave me life and I gave him a tasty snack.

I couldn’t breathe. Something was lodged in my throat. I choked. My eyes streamed. Maybe I’d die I thought. Maybe I’d rot into the earth and sink. Maybe this was how it ended.  I gagged. I wanted to vomit out my being. My cursed, treacherous, distorted being who drew me to this place, to this thing. I moaned. And suddenly with appalling clarity I understood what was happening. I’d wretch and gag until my panic died down and then I’d realise that whatever was lodged in my throat was now there for good. His leaving present. It was becoming part of me; a choker, a collar from the inside. Most of the time I would forget it was there. I would look at the colourless limp decaying world with my straining sleeping eyes and not notice. But in the night I would feel it tighten and I would cry for my loss of freedom.

Published by Rosie Holt

Actor, Writer / Performer

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