A Short Story of Lust
It slumbers inside like a hibernating bear in its cave. The soul is full of darkness and the sin is committed. The guilty one is not he who commits the sin, but that which causes the darkness. This darkness has a name – though it shouldn’t really be considered the darkness in its fullest. Essentially its just one component from the many parts the darkness exists from and defined as a “sin”. Though, if I may ponder, is it not so that these “sins” are in fact just normal days feelings and emotions just more extreme? Lust is the love for the flesh – uncomplicated and more rewarding, yet at the same time condemned wrong. Doesn’t every love eventually turn out into lust? – the need to feel the soul in means of being one with the body?
I hadn’t noticed her when she first entered the class. I was still reading ‘Zielcontact’, a Dutch book from which I had to make a report for Dutch class. So I didn’t really notice how the class went silent and how a chair from a desk behind me was pulled back. It was only until I felt a pair of eyes glaring at my back when I turned over and looked face to face at a face with one green eye and one blue eye. The emerald and sapphire stones gazed at me from a slink smooth face, color tinted light brown – not too light for a ‘bakra’ (white people) and not too dark, perfect to arouse a feeling of sensuality – and neck-high black hair with red died streams between. I almost dropped my literature book on the ground.The girl who sat behind me was indeed a sexy femme fatal; to start with the way how she sat elegant like a Victorian-aged young lady but moved smooth and dangerously with the sensuality of a cat. From then off I knew only one fact - I wanted her. Not in the way of a girlfriend or anything though. No, I just wanted to have her, only once if it was possible – maybe because I knew that her type of girls was of the type to destroy people from the inside out of lust.
‘Hi, I’m Aisle.’
I hadn’t noticed her when she first entered the class. I was still reading ‘Zielcontact’, a Dutch book from which I had to make a report for Dutch class. So I didn’t really notice how the class went silent and how a chair from a desk behind me was pulled back. It was only until I felt a pair of eyes glaring at my back when I turned over and looked face to face at a face with one green eye and one blue eye. The emerald and sapphire stones gazed at me from a slink smooth face, color tinted light brown – not too light for a ‘bakra’ (white people) and not too dark, perfect to arouse a feeling of sensuality – and neck-high black hair with red died streams between. I almost dropped my literature book on the ground.The girl who sat behind me was indeed a sexy femme fatal; to start with the way how she sat elegant like a Victorian-aged young lady but moved smooth and dangerously with the sensuality of a cat. From then off I knew only one fact - I wanted her. Not in the way of a girlfriend or anything though. No, I just wanted to have her, only once if it was possible – maybe because I knew that her type of girls was of the type to destroy people from the inside out of lust.
‘Hi, I’m Aisle.’
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