She’s From Australia

*All stories best read on nickpetrouauthor.com as “WordPress Reader” omits formatting

_dsf7616

She’s From Australia

+++Of course, I allowed myself to believe that I had absolutely zero chance of finding someone on this trip. Small town lad from England, aiming to lose himself in the great land of the south to force the development of his pathetic social skills. No phone, no laptop. Just me out here in the vastness, with its quirky slang and lingo.
+++Now I wish my head hadn’t been so strong. On days with rain, or days too hot to leave the embrace of a human construct — I just wanted to watch some stupid movie, play a video game, even watch some tele. Bollocks, why didn’t I bring my phone?
+++And now, near the end of it all, I find her. It takes me all of an hour to extend my trip by a full week. Had bugger all work lately, so the flight change was courtesy of Gran. Legend.
+++She’s real fit –  the girl from the bar – and up for it from what I can tell. Bloody hell, she pierces me with those eyes. She’s looking at me right now, like I am something to be consumed.
+++I swap my gaze from my screen to meet her seduce. “Sorted! I leave on the 6th.”
+++She reaches over the top of her laptop from across the wobbling table, closing it on me gently. Her hands are dainty. I want to hold them. I just want to touch her, anywhere. She’s right there.
+++Now she speaks to me softly: “Mmm, you’re a sweetie, Julian —  changing your plans for me. We are going to have fun, I promise.” Then she winks and my body tingles.
+++“So we are sorted? — for camping gear, yeah?”, I ask, nervous and eager to break the intimate bubble that envelopes us. I already know I am well equipped for the expedition.
+++The woman notices my reddening face, adjusts herself to allow me some rest from her intensity. She sits into the back of her chair, taking her gin and tonic with her.
+++Why did I get this pint of lager? I don’t even like lager. Would have been chuffed with some gin, like her, bit of cucumber. Just might get a bit pissed is all. I haven’t said a thing in seconds; It’s getting awkward. I cook intrinsically with nervousness, missing her response to my nothing question.
+++I then blurt out something nonsensical: “So how long ‘av you been here, love?” Oh god, I called her love. She freezes in my eyes.
+++Three months abroad and I still choke in front of a girl. She was different though: far beyond my reach.
+++Phew, she starts speaking with those pulpy lips: “Here in Australia? My whole life, Julian. I love it here, so wide and free.” Wild and free like her dark hair, curled at the tips with hints bronzed by the sun. Hair that carries a flavour so sweet.
+++We have for sure discussed our heritage already. Think, Julian, think. My best move is now to finish my pint. I draw it to my comparatively thin lips —— It’s bloody warm! Shit, I can’t quit now. The foam clings to my taste buds as I fight back a chunder. Mate, don’t ruin your chances, you have this one in the bag.
+++Massive, I’ve done it; and now she’s smiling ever so slightly — the most I’ve got out of her in the hour. Back to that longing pout; turn of the head with the slow, conscious blinking; slight protrusion of the tongue. She brushes her magnificent hair over her right ear, exposing a redolent throat to the air.
+++“I’m getting another drink, Julian. Have some gin with me?” She turns her curves towards the bar, looking back at me over the lacey white fabric on her shoulder. The woman’s complexion is copper against the soft white of the top: the skin of a goddess. She stands, further exposing the true curve of a woman. Even through her floral patterned skirt her voluptuousness is expressed in its fullness. For this ephemeral juncture, I have never seen a woman before. That is how alluring this creature is.
+++I manage to liberate myself from asphyxiation, utter a word or two: “Um, thanks, that would be lovely.” Again, with the love. Julian, proper sort it out mate. Sort out your shit.

+++Somehow, she tolerated the boneless lifeform that I am for the past half an hour, and we are now in her two-door hatchback, the make of which I am uncertain. Camping gear, crammed into the backseat renders the rear vision mirror obsolete, which bothers me a tad, as I am not so confident with cars. In England, I had never really driven. I cycle, take the underground. (I genuinely have my Oyster card in my trousers right now — that’s jokes!)
+++Tyres crunch as asphalt turns to gravel — and she gracefully pulls over. We have parked in the shade of the great Eucalypts, which mimic the twist of the road; and I am now noticing that the day is escaping us… so we best be making steps. I am going to say something.
+++“Sorry, is this it here? It’s just getting a bit late, you see. And I wouldn’t ——”
+++She cuts me off without voicing a sound. Just looks at me with those wild eyes of hers. Jesus, she is gorgeous. Fucking hell. Right, time to stop shitting it and man up, Julien. Get it.
+++I am going to lean in. I’m going for it —— She presents the back of her head, opens the door and I fall short, ripen with redness. Hot flushes course through my body and I feel claustrophobic in my skin. Jesus, what was that?
+++She is unloading our gear from the car silently, but with a contagious enthusiasm. She is as keen to set up as I am, so I join her.
+++We now head to her favourite spot: a short stroll made longer by the weight of our gear. I take note that she doesn’t lock the vehicle, but say nothing.
+++All this time in the country and I had yet to get among the bush. Everything is dry and unforgiving, sharp and tricky; but this woman treads through it unscathed, halting only to turn toward me and hypnotize with her mystery. Chills run in sequence down my spine and the hairs upon my neck stand in unison, as if in the presence of a formidable predator.
+++Shit, we’re setting up camp and its proper dark now. Clanking of poles, scraping of nylon, hammering of earth — then somehow it all clicks into place. And then silence…
+++We sit in darkness on fold-out chairs, with our tiny fire igniting the space between us. She’s looking at me again, ready to feast, ready to pounce. I am definitely in. God she’s incredible.
+++And then she speaks… like the girl from my dreams.
+++“I want to go out there… for a walk. Will you take me, Julian?” She is pivoting her hips suggestively, caressing the outsides of her thighs.
+++We leave the feint light of our tiny fire for the darkness. We walk for… minutes?… hours? Where is the campsite? I want to say something, but I can’t: she is enjoying herself, keeps turning to me smiling. I can see, now that my eyes have adjusted to receiving light from only the stars.
+++“What could that be?”, she almost mocks me with her question.
+++And I can see now the confusion to which she refers: a dim blue rectangle of light among trees. It is a sterile kind of light, hardly inviting, hardly warm. We walk towards this light, and she now takes me hand, guiding me. She turns to me every few steps and locks onto my dilated pupils.

+++What? The sterile blue light now surrounds us. We are inside the rectangle… door? My body trembles, every hair erect and blood rushing from peripheries. Utter dread, sheer terror. What… what is this? There is no dimming of the light. The door from which I came has been absorbed. I am haunted by such menace. Pure threat.
+++Where am I? Where did she go? Christ, what was her name? Fuck. Shit. Shit.
+++Tears release themselves from my ducts. I feel the certainty of death for the first time. I am in a state of absolute hopelessness. Potential ceases to exist. I lose the fragments of my mind responsible for comfort and happiness.
+++Dark figures surround me. They are hard and lean, and without the bulk necessary to contain organs. Beings of pure flesh, with gaping minds. Minds that latch onto the husk of a human being suspended in the centre of this sick laboratory. They probe my dissolving thoughts endlessly.
+++The human — that should respond to the infliction of such agonizing pain — is lost. An Earthly body fuses with the alloys of different worlds. Its last thoughts were refining: She is definitely not from Australia

END

_dsf7528-2

Photo Credit: Andy McInerheney @handy8andy

Model: Sarah Gerber @sarah_gerber

Special thanks to Sarah for staying up late with me and bouncing ideas. You are one of a kind, woman 🙂

6 Comments

  1. Love sci fi but have only written one sort of sci fi story and posted it. Thanks for the follow – I’m honored. Hope you’ll stop by from time to time. I might have to try writing another sci fi short…

    Like

    1. I find it to be such a versatile genre, capable of encompassing many others within it.

      Of course I’ll stop by from time to time 🙂

      Best of luck!

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s