I'm Alien or a Time-Traveller... or something. (Six)
#6 of An Alien
So here's a slightly revised and vastly added to version of this. The original posting was a bit weak and thanks goes to Orkinman for pointing out the problem. Anyway, here's something better. This bit can be a bit obscure if you've not read the previous instalments, but if you have, here's more in-depth relevatory narration that you might appreciate. Don't forget to drop a comment.
I'm Alien or a Time-Traveller... or something. (Six)
"I've never eaten it this way before." Miki eyed the bowl, surreptitiously poking at a peach slice swimming in cream, with the tiny dessert fork clenched in her white paw.
Sander and Miki perched on the bed's edge like doves, the sort of which brooded in sleepy queues on the power-lines outside, his school blazer slung across the back of a chair and his rucksack resting between its legs. The seasons were changing as the cracked window breathed the spicy essence of virginal fauna over them. Her straight posture, sure and confident; Sander's less so as his crooked spine bent instinctively towards the Japanese Akita.
Sander plucked a dripping slice from the bowl, depositing it on his tongue, sliding it back and chewing slowly as the syrupy peach tingled on his taste buds with the cream serving a mild counterpoint; he shivered in delight then smirked at Miki. She observed his display of pleasure with only the mere hint of amusement in the deepening on her dimples.
"You've never eaten peaches?" he asked across his fork which hovered meaningfully over the bowl.
"I've eaten peaches." She returned sardonically.
"You've never eaten cream?"
"I've eaten cream." Her eyes were on him and his on the bowl.
His velvety paw descended and stabbed another slice, then he scooped as much cream onto it as possible, bringing it up he deposited the dripping treat onto his tongue. He kept it there wiggling the laden extremity at her.
"Ven I don'f sfee tha ploblem. They ah tasty."
Miki's mask pulled up almost as if surprised but it was a clever ploy, a white Akita's paw ascended unseen under his tongue. It drew closer, claws extended like crabs' pincers as if she were about to pick a grape but instead she grabbed hold of Sander's lolling tongue and trapping it. Instinctively he pulled back, threatening to dislodge the fruit on it. "Shh, shh," she whispered softly "don't struggle, you'll make a mess."
"Ow."
"What I said wolfy," she affectionately stroked his cheek, tenderly scratching where a goat's horn protruded "is that I have never eaten peaches and cream like this."
He turned into the pleasure, spilling a furtive drop to her white forearm; she yanked his head upright to prevent further spillage. The previously pleasured horn was taken prisoner as its hapless owner was compelled to absolute stillness. Her muzzle floated over Sander's long tongue and he winced as he sensed her intentions prompting her to tighten the vice.
The Akita's black lined lips opened slightly and she locked her sharp, dainty teeth over the wide eyed wolf's exposed tongue.
A silky sensation infiltrated the entirety of his being as she leisurely slid the sloppy treat down the length of his tongue with her own before slurping it onto her palate as if he were an oyster succumbed to offering its bounty. She nipped him lightly before releasing him from her claws. His abused extremity retreated into his muzzle, leaving a milky halo on his black fur. Still in possession of his horn she chewed slowly, savouring the taste before swallowing.
"It's good." She sounded pleased.
"Sthee?" he said struggling pronunciation with the abused organ while a pleasant warmth brimmed in his soul at her approval. Vanessa bubbled in mirth from somewhere. Miki's attention was now on the bowl and its bounty; she impaled a wedge, dragged it through the cream and popped it into her muzzle chewing speculatively.
"I've been wondering..." Miki started but trailed off as if reconsidering.
Vanessa touched Sander on the shoulder whispering in his ear "Tell her yes."
"Yes to what?" he asked aloud of Vanessa. Miki frowned.
"Don't be rude. Perhaps you should let her ask first and find out for yourself brother." She giggled.
Sander turned to Miki "I'm sorry, what were you meaning to say?"
"I was wondering if your sister derived the same satisfaction from peaches and cream as you do. I assume that's what Vanessa meant?"
The door to the room swung open revealing Sander's mother whom had apparently heard her daughter's name in the passing. She was a white goat and an older version of Vanessa; whose only inheritance from her father had been her sharp canines while Sander more closely resembled the black wolf who had fathered him except that his genetics had taken a less subtle turn by gracing him with his mother's horns; a black wolf with goat's horns and a white goat with wolf's teeth. The genetically improbable coupling had taken its toll on Vanessa and was the reason that their guilt-ridden mother carried the ever-present medical book.
"Have you seen Vanessa?" his mother called into the room. But her shoulders slumped in disappointment upon surveying the room.
"Don't allow her the delusion Sander. She needs to come to terms." his sister instructed.
"No mom. We won't see her again."
Miki squeezed his thigh empathetically. "Good afternoon ma'am."
"Oh... Hello Miki, I'm sorry." Dejection flitted across her features as she spotted the contents of the bowl "Vanessa loved peaches and cream. I am so sorry you two." She backed out and the door closed again.
Sander sighed; tired and defeated he had lost his appetite. Miki gingerly removed the bowl from his trembling paw, placing it on the desk before returning to his side. Addressing both girls in the room "I'm technically crazy but mother isn't allowed her delusions."
In unison they replied "She doesn't know how to deal with the loss."
"I know. But..." and his words sauntered into the black depths of understandable cruelty.
"Sander?" Miki said.
"Yes?"
"Let's take a nap, just escape for a little while." Gently she pushed him onto his back. She nestled her head on his chest draping an arm across his waist and hugged him warmly. His paw went mournfully to her hair.
After a little while they were drifting off. "I love all three of you so much." he said before finally answering the sandman's call.
Miki lie awake for some minutes sniffling and quietly leaking tears into his shirt.
A rounded photo of canned peaches stood in sullen accusation leaving Sander in a ponderous state as why and how it were possible for pictures of preserved food to express an emotion at all, much less an accusatory disguise. He plucked one such from the midst of its brethren, which only increased their projected ire. He rolled it around in his paw thoughtfully; they seemed delicious; chewable yet softly pliant and syrupy sweet. Shame washed into his breast like the lusty saliva soaking into his chin. The picture struck him as a scene of massacre and the orange vibrancy of their juicy flesh reminiscent of bright red blood flowing from crimson wounds, oozing life into barren earth which had long since ceased to feed the soil. He swam a river of shame for wanting to taste their dead and preserved flesh.
On impulse he worked the label off the can, feeling it important that he carry this depiction of peach genocide as a meaningful remembrance. It peeled off effortlessly once he'd clawed through glue connecting the two ends of the label. He deposited the naked can with its fellow victims, evidence-in-hand his paw went for his pocket only to discover no pocket where he'd expected one, naked fur. Curiously he glanced down to find that he was bare-, naked-, without clothing. Velvet tufts of fur poorly disguised his dangling genitals prompting fresh waves of shame to wash against the shore of his being.
Naked and possessing the evidence of peach slaughter he glanced to his right; an isle of canned foods towering above both sides of a sterile walkway. Artificial light reflected off the glossy floor, the white tiles having been washed and waxed of horrors like that in his paw too many times in soulless attempts at hiding the genocide of which his presence alone implicitly involved his participation. The sterility burned his nostrils.
A rickety racket made him jump, behind him two indistinct shapes came into view, one adult sized and one child, the adult pushing a wiry shopping cart filled to the brim with preserved corpses and hacked up limbs. They halted, appraising him ponderously; curious yet showing no alarm at finding a naked black wolf among all the clean white. Instinctively he covered his groin expecting the imminent screams of disgusted surprise to go forth from these shadows which would draw more shadows to gawk. No screams came, the adult's attention went to both sides of the isle and the rickety cart was rolled down the isle past the peaches before eventually disappearing round a corner. It was as if he had been just another wandering shadow seeking sustenance in this catalogue of murder.
Curiously he sauntered down the isle with the label fluttering in the stale air that it disturbed. Sander peered round a pile of powdered milk to find a sea of shadows pushing rickety carts through isles, up to pay points manned by more shadows. The only sound was the overburdened racket the wiry carts made and it became of a cacophony of ugly sound flooding everywhere. There were no words, no screaming children for toys or sweets, only vague shadows that never regarded each other yet managed to wash into an ocean of indistinctness.
Down the way, inside the lame tempest of shadowy figures there was one small island of clarity; an adult and two children, a horned female adult with a littler version clinging to its dress and finally young Sander. This was familiar as if a long lost memory had resurfaced into a single image; little Vanessa had coughed once and but the outburst had produced a fine and minute spray of blood. Little Sander had seen this and had known this to be abnormal. He watched himself and his sister now from a long way away, desperately urging little Sander to tug at his mother's hem and point to the vaporous life-blood so that she would know there was something wrong with her young daughter. But he hadn't done that, he hadn't understood.
I didn't do this, he thought. I didn't do this. I didn't do this. I'm not guilty! I didn't do this.
"Of course you didn't. You could not have known." Startled I swing around to find my Vanessa, the one I've come to love, approaching me, her paws outstretched towards me, beseeching me to come to her. Beautiful as always, her white fur somehow as much a contrast to the white and lifeless surroundings as the stark black dress she's in; a masterfully beautiful thing, the cut being painfully elegant in its simplicity. My nakedness forgotten I trundle forlornly into her outstretched arms and limply falling into her loving bosom.
"I didn't do this." I moan pitifully. Even as the words escape me I notice the waiflike blood on her fur, mirroring the results of little Vanessa's single cough.
"Sander," She whispers insistently "wake up. You'll hurt yourself here, you need to be awake."
I look into her large eyes veiled in empathetic concern. And everything goes dark.
I open my eyes and sunlight floods sharply into my unprepared eyes. I blink and turn away. "Sander," an insistent whisper "wake up." There's comfortable warmth enveloping my body which I gravitate towards. "Sander." I squint finding Miki leaning against me, watching me with concern while stroking the side of my muzzle.
"I didn't do it." I complain from far away.
"I know. They're just dreams wolfy; bad dreams."
My heart heavy and thumping I lay still, glad to be away from places with shadows and remembrances.
"I'm here." they chorus.