Read by Clive Greenwood
'What do you think of it so far?'
The voice made the woman jump. It came at once from behind her and from inside her head. Had she been startled awake by a dream? She spun around.
His yellow eyes regarded her. His head floated in the shadows above a massive weight of scaly flesh. 'Seriously,' he said, 'are you having fun? Or do you find there's something missing?'
She trembled. It was a new feeling, strangely pleasant; her skin tingled and crept. She noticed where his stare was directed and moved a hand instinctively to cover herself.
Why did I do that?
'Cat got your tongue?'
'What?' She brought her spare hand up, touched tongue to fingertip. 'What do you mean?'
Through the neat, diamond-shaped hole of his mouth, a shiny, black ribbon flicked in and out. He chuckled. 'Figure of speech. My mistake. I've been around forever. I was forgetting this is only your first week.'
The gravelly drawl of his voice sent a new shiver through her body. 'I'm... I'm sorry,' she said. 'I really must be getting back. Goodbye now.'
If you would like to read the rest of this story, please check out Lovers' Lies, the Arachne Press anthology in which it, and many other sexy and lovable stories from the League archives, appears.
Trying to leave fast without appearing to hurry, she felt suddenly awkward. She had to think how to move her legs: their separateness seemed wrong. She sensed on what part of her his piercing, yellow gaze was now fixed and how he would smile if she put a protective hand behind.
'Come when you get bored,' she heard him call. 'I'm always here.'
*
The undergrowth was damp and tangled, not like the soft turf beyond. A musky odour, sweet and repellent, rose from it as she waded through towards the sunlight. There, supine on the grass beside the spring, lay Adam, his legs carelessly apart, the sweat on his skin not yet dry.
The warm air of the glade caressed and calmed her, reminded her of her happiness. She sank down among the buttercups and, stealthily, gently, with the tip of the finger that had touched her tongue, traced the profile of Adam's face and body: his brow, his nose, his downy upper lip, the lower lip vibrating as he breathed out, the cleft in his beardless chin, his fine, smooth throat, and so on slowly down, past the fading scar on his breast, past the place where his navel might have been but wasn't, into the curls below.
He paused in his breathing, opened his clear, wide eyes and smiled.
'That's nice,' he said. 'I'm so glad you're here. How about we do it again?'
*
'What do you mean, bored?' she dared to ask the serpent.
Three days had gone by. It was hot, late afternoon. Ten minutes ago, she had wriggled out from under the sleeping Adam and, with thumping heart, made her way back through the tangled creepers to the steamy place where her secret friend lay coiled. Now she knelt beside him, heaping moss and fallen blossom on her thighs, covering her breasts with an arm.
He ignored her question. 'You didn't tell your mate about me.'
His eyes burned yellow. His words sent a frisson of new feeling through her. What shall I call this one?
'Guilt,' he supplied.
She jumped. 'Can you read my mind?'
'But of course. I know your thoughts before you think them. They're as natural as the grass growing and the birds singing. You cannot help them.'
'That's not true,' she protested. 'I don't believe you. I'm— I'm special and— and—'
'And what?'
The black tongue flickered. Out and in. She wanted to touch his scales.
'See.' She lowered arm from breast, let a knee peep through the moss. 'See, you beast. You don't know what I'm going to say.'
'You don't know yourself,' he whispered. 'Your brain is as empty as a blown egg.'
'It's not. It's not.' Special and... 'I want the exact right word.' ...beloved. What word was this? 'Beloved. That's what I am. Special and beloved.'
He gave her a long, hard look. 'No more so than the grass and the birds. Or the clear water that you drink. You are as you are. Made for Adam because he was bored. And now, bored yourself.'
That word again. 'But what does it mean?'
'Early days. Early days.' He stretched his jaw in a cavernous yawn. 'Frankly, my dear, I'm finding you a wee bit boring myself. Why don't you run along now, back to old Adam?'
His eyes were cold. She leapt to her feet, naked in a shower of seeds and petals. She wanted to cry but was afraid of looking a fool. She knew that he knew everything in her head. She forced her feet to begin the long, awkward retreat, the back of her neck burning.
'That one's humiliation.' His voice came slithering after her. 'See you soon.'
'I'm damned if you will,' she muttered, and heard in the distance the first, low rumble of thunder.
*
'Why shouldn't we eat it, Adam?'
'Oh, I don't know,' Adam soothed. 'He told me so. Isn't that enough?'
'Why should it be? I've never seen Him. He doesn't bother to talk to me.'
'Don't be foolish, sweetness. I only saw Him that one time, before you were here. "It's all yours," He said. "Nameless and wonderful." And then He created you, nameless and wonderful too, just for me.'
She twirled a green stem in her fingers. Made the golden reflection of a buttercup dance under Adam's chin.
'Were you bored before I came?'
'How do you mean?'
She sighed. 'I don't know. Restless, not knowing what to do, wishing that something... that something a bit different would happen?'
'In what way, different? Aren't you happy?'
'Of course I am.' She leant to kiss him. 'And I love you.'
'Mmn,' he breathed, nibbling her lip. 'How do you mean?'
She pulled away. Sat back on her heels and stared into the forest.
'I don't know. It doesn't matter.'
'Hey.' He stroked her shoulder with a fig-leaf. 'Tell you what. Shall we do it again before we eat?'
'If you like.'
She rolled into his embrace. But her thoughts were elsewhere.
*
'I don't see why we shouldn't eat the fruit,' she complained to the serpent.
'It won't kill you,' he replied.
'What do you mean? Have you eaten it?'
'Oh yes. Oh yes, I have. Many times.'
'And did you like it?'
'It's like nothing else on earth. You're only half-alive until you've tried it. Believe me, it's an eye-opener. The day you eat it, you'll be like a god, knowing good and evil.'
'What are those?'
'Eat, and you'll know,' he answered, as he slipped away into the dark.
'That one's temptation.' His voice, more subtle than any sound she knew, naming the dryness in her mouth as he went.
*
Ah... God... amazing! She saw how naïve she had been. In her hand was the fruit with a single, perfect bite taken from it. She crammed the rest into her mouth, felt the cold juice run down her chin, watched it drip onto her breast.
I am beautiful. I am a goddess.
Beneath her feet the grass grew. Above her head the birds sang. They had not eaten; they continued as they were.
She ran to the clear spring to drink. The water had no knowledge of the fruit; it continued as it was.
She turned, and saw Adam walk from the forest into the glade. How beautiful he was! How much she loved him! But he, too, continued as he was.
The sun shone in the glade. The man she loved came smiling towards her. But he didn't love her, and she was seized with a terrible new feeling.
'You want to do it,' she said.
'Yes, sweetness. How did you know?'
'I can read you like a book. You're only interested in one thing.'
'I don't understand.' He touched her cheek. 'Don't you like it? Don't you want to do it?'
'Not if you don't love me.'
He cupped her elbows. Drew her close.
'What are you saying? We must share the names of things, else who knows what a mess we'll get into.'
She pushed his hands away.
'You don't love me. I want you to love me, and you don't.'
'What is this word?' he said. 'What do you mean?'
Suddenly she saw what must be done. 'Of course!' she cried. 'You must eat. Then you'll understand.'
She ran from the glade, back into the midst of the garden, to the forbidden tree. Plucked another ripe fruit. Brought it dripping in her hands.
'Trust me. You won't die. You'll understand. You will love me and thank me.'
Their fingers met. She slipped the fruit into his palms, breathlessly lifted his hands to his mouth.
'Eat, Adam, eat.'
He bit. He chewed. He swallowed.
He choked. He coughed. He spat.
Too late. He knew.
--
Something Missing was read by Clive Greenwood at the Liars' League Birds & Beasts event on Tuesday 11 September 2007
Bobbie Darbyshire is the maturest student at the National Academy of Writing, UCE Birmingham, and Cinnamon Press has just accepted her novel Truth Games. She hosts a group Writers Together, came to cheer member Peter Higgins’s story at Liars’ League in August, and thought, “Hey, I’ll have a go”
