He #flash fiction #short prose #manuscript excerpt #love

He acted like what he was: one of the most handsome and wealthiest bankers of the city.

Nightly candlelight parties in his villa whose balconies opened toward the ocean. Château Mouton Rothschild Pauillac: deep reds and an unmistakable taste of eucalyptus. Coquilles Saint-Jacques, escargots, Provencal fish stew whose aroma imbibed the corridors from lazy late afternoons until early mornings when it was replaced by that of coffee and freshly baked croissants.

It was an act. He looked like a man who while sleeping with one woman thought of another. Teeth planted in warm lips in an eerie absentness of mind; nothing less than automatism. His entire being was consumed by something else, something as imperative as the birth of a child: the naked vision of a woman whom he could not have.

excerpt from my manuscript Remembrance of Love (working title)

My poetry collection Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings is available on Amazon here .
Passions featured in San Francisco Book Review
Passions featured in Manhattan Book Review.

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)

Gnosticism [Hellenistic Alexandria] #flash fiction #short prose #excerpt

He was a gnostic par excellence. He loved Hellenistic Alexandria, a place where syncretism, with its unbelievable superposition of religions, grew like oyster mushrooms. Think fleshy greyish-brown, yellow, and pink colors one on top of each other.

During winters, the ghosts of the Alexandrian carnival, inscribed in colored tiles, mesmerized him. They lived in his mind like relics in churches, wrapped in scents of myrrh, overwhelmed by veneration, buried under the kisses and the requests of those who believed in miracles.

Carnival: late Latin expression meaning carne levare, “remove meat.” Some will say “farewell to meat.”

Ah, the famous libertinism of Carpocrates. He did not believe in it. The sweetness of the flesh meant little to him. And I am coming to what you want to know, am I not? You want to know why he loved me so much and how he conceived of our relationship.

Turn around. Breathe the smell of grass growing on old tombs: tombs of saints, madmen, oracles. Remember, the wish to die is as natural as erotic impulses.

I will blindfold you. You will take your shirt off. I will drop on your chest the unadulterated coolness of the morning dew.

In silence I will shade my skin between the gates of heaven and those of hell.  The sun will set on my plump and humid lips.  You can touch my waist with the fingers of your right hand. You can go down to the middle of my left thigh. You cannot deviate.  I am forever yours if the tip of your fingers can read the patterns inscribed on my thigh. Do it and I will kill his memory.

What is going to happen if you cannot read with the tip of your fingers? Oh, I’ve always believed that after death souls go to the moon.

Your call.

For crying out loud, I am joking. Stop looking at my legs.
I know you love me. He loved me too. I am who I am and who I am is hidden from view.
Now, can I get a drink from the bar? And really those devil eggs look so good.

excerpt from my book in progress: Remembrance of Love [working title]

My book, Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, can be ordered here.
Thank you.
Love
Gabriela

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)

Heaven and earth #short prose #flash fiction #prose poem

Heaven and earth change places.
The core of the earth shines. Rays pierce waters, beamed from below, springing from the phosphorescent floor.
Dark corridors open in the walls.
I put my hand in the water.
My hand metamorphosizes into bright silver.
Noise. A nymph?! Oh, that pristine beauty which always dethrones Aphrodite’s pagan looks.
I don’t want to leave. This is the only place I’ve known where any remembrance of human neurosis dissipates like morning fog.
“Clara we can’t stay here. We need to leave.”
“Miguel, I am not leaving. You said everything for me.”
“Clara, they don’t sell the damn grotto. If they did, I’d buy it for you. We need to leave.”
“I am not leaving.”
The light from the water floats inside his eyes.
How beautiful.
How seductive.
Is he angry with me?

(excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers)

Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, my poetry book, will be available for pre-order on April 14th; publication date April 20th.

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)

image: Timur Kulgarin; Shuterstock; [link]

© short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)

Lack of Boundaries # Excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers (66 words)

Jacques, Miriam, Miguel, and I: What can I say?

As time passed we became like tropical lianas hanging on a giant tree. We used to think that it was the tree of friendship and love.

*

Once Jacques said:

“It is nonchalance that destroys love and friendship.”

To which Miguel replied:

“No, it is the lack of boundaries.”

Time was going to prove him right.

 

*draft

@short-prose-fiction

image: KireevArt/Shutterstock