R is for Romance. [2014WC]

He lay on the ground, on his belly, asleep, while the careless breeze caressed his broad defined shoulders. The open ground he slept upon lent it's graciousness to his slumber. He had collapsed in the middle of the field, swooned by the harsh claw of a previous night's revelry.

He lay there dreaming, of times long ago, when there were jobs and an economy, and stirred, memories behind a memory of what reality used to be, a solace from the starkness of what lay before him before he opened his eyes once more. Sleep was the only escape from the nightmare of life.

He snapped awake, cursing.

Fumbling about his head in a clearing fog, he raced to piece together the events of the previous eve:

Alcohol, homebrewed, and encampment in a borough south of Whitney. They were excited by the fact that there was other survivors. There was a party.

His head now pounded from the effects of cheap homebrewed alcohol. He remembered a girl, her name now a blank, but her face present while he lay there in the middle of the field.

He groaned audibly as he rolled over on his side, head attached but far from complying with his wishes, when he noticed the girl laying naked on the ground beside him. He jolted awake, noticing his own nakedness. Sitting up, he finally grasped the entirety of his position.

In a field, with a girl, naked, and the farmhouse over a mile away. He smiled.

What had happened? The economy collapsed, and the world went berserk. There was no food to feed everyone, there was no way to fix it. People turned into zombies. Hell ensued.

He could only imagine why he was here, contemplating his own thoughts.

He looked at the naked girl beside him, half embarrassed, half aroused, thinking and feeling that they had shared their bodies in a drunken lust the previous night. He stared at her nakedness, her curves, and realized she was breathing softly, her breasts heaving up and down. His groin pulled tight.

He cautiously reached over and rustled her shoulder, hiding his shame, and she turned her head, clear of slumber, and smiled at him.

"Hi, hun. What a party, huh?"

He looked at her quizzically.

She leaned forward, and wrapped her arms around his head, and laid back, pulling him down to her, close. His lips were inches only from hers. It did nothing for the tightness in his groin. He wavered, then kissed her, his lips melting in a smooth buttery flavor that couldn't be realized from anyone else. He sighed, his lust re-kindled.

They made love, in the field, once more in the morning, the only repose from the insanity of death all around them, the privacy of the field yielding the fact of 4 week old carcass that loves him. His own imagination provides the rest of horrible scenario, with death never reaching forward, but always just outside the door.

Sorry, it was a good story. But I can't flag it. I just don't want it to win the contest.

Not gonna lie though, easily gave me the strongest reaction of any story I've read so far.

reply to post by PatrickGarrow17


I appreciate your honesty, and no ill harbored. I was addressing one aspect of human depravity that could occur if an economic collapse occurs.

Thanks for the comment.

reply to post by Druid42


I figured it'd have multiple flags by now. If it's still at 0 this afternoon I'll give it one, I think people should read it.

reply to post by Druid42




and here i was thinking i was twisted .. lol
a unique perspective. well done.



Muzz

WHY didn't this story get Flagged??


Outstanding story, actually.

Its Primal. Its Human. Its what I would expect.


S&F

reply to post by Ormuz


Thanks for reading, and no, you're not the only twisted person on ATS, there are at least two.

reply to post by sonnny1


Sometimes a story can be a tough sell, and sometimes not.

Thanks for the flag. Much appreciated.

Wow.

That was a tough read. Well done. S&F,

reply to post by smyleegrl


Thanks for the flag. I appreciate the visit.