Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 7

pinched his lips together as his face blanched dramatically. He masks his passion well , Jacob conceded.
    The owner, Jeremy, stopped talking, as if something outside suddenly took his attention. Yet the deepening hue of his cheek and a quick cough, barely moving his tense frame, made the fact that he was mentally visualising Jacob dressing crystal clear – evidently not as objectively as Jacob anticipated.
    "Now," Jacob said sarcastically after a long, deliberate pause to fasten the knot on the robe, "I am decent."
    Jeremy partook of a slow breath. His form was slight and slender, but a wave of power and control radiated outward – no tremors fled him as he exhaled – despite his obvious emotional passion. Jacob may be able to overpower him; however, he did not wish to risk the skill shown by the subtle muscles he glimpsed, stretching purposefully in the crimson jersey.
    "This is the cleaning bag. I assume you know what to do with it; otherwise, there are instructions on the bottles you can follow. Clean this kitchen so it shines. Put everything back in order." Jeremy quietly ordered with a clipped yet calm tone. "If you do anything else wrong, I am likely not to forgive you. Then, I am highly likely to dish out punishment." A sadistic gleam sparkled in Jeremy's eye as they both made eye contact on the final line, stressing the final word. Jacob knew this was a fight lost when Jeremy continued without change in his tone, stating in an unyielding monotone, "I am going to go on my patrols. You had better be busy while I am away."
    The midday sunlight illuminated Jeremy's lithe form as he left, leaving Jacob standing alone in the kitchen. The glimpse of the world outside was bright at the end of the near silent showering drizzle, leaving everything glistening attractively. Jacob shouted his own name compulsively into the silence that pervaded the home. He felt a sickening twist invade his gut; dragging him down to reality along with the slammed door. He could not leave with only Jeremy's generosity and curt words. The least he could do would be to clean the kitchen and remove the evidence of his depravity – his loss of control.
    However, it was obvious that the bad impression he left on the kindest human he met in centuries made this feeling all the more poignant. That and the increasing pain entering his heart. He would never admit the significance of this sudden portent, sticking with the belief that it was indigestion.
    But it still hurt, how Jeremy left, after the best conversation Jacob had had in memory.
    CHAPTER 5 – The Realisation
    There are some times, I must admit, that I can't solve any problematic feelings or thoughts using the journal, or by rationalising them. Not that anyone could tell! Even if there were people around to pay attention.
    During those times, I can only ride the wave. Like the sport that I read about in those fiction books, surfing, although I don't believe any place could be that sunny. Letting it carry me away into salty depths, crashing and tumbling on the horizon, waiting for the calm after the storm.
    I managed to avoid such a display after the computer debacle. I just had that awful pain. But I've had worse and the gnawing in my gut held nothing to melting flesh or bone beginning to char… Sometimes I must recall the phantom memory just to clarify the stark contrast of perspectives: the pain now shouldn't hurt as bad!
    Nothing else needs to be reported, unless you can call fresher air a problem – the smell from the waste pile is finally stopping with the deteriorating weather. That's a relief, I suppose.
    ~ Jeremy, November 21 st Journal Number -
     
    Jeremy was irate.
    He was distraught.
    He was in pain: the type of pain that haunts the stomach and turns into a fully integrated poltergeist rampaging through his body. Body in full revolt, no pen had the strength to cut the rebellion down. He refused to give in the urge to pick up a sword-like implement to start hacking at anything as he walked, leaving the intruder and his home behind him.
    Jeremy ran his hand over his head and into a tangle of hair, pulling hard at the root. His breath clouded even in the shade of the oaks surrounding him. He was at a loss. What was I thinking? Jeremy screamed into his mind.
    The answer: a hollow echo reverberating through his skull. The forests remained silent and still, and the thorns of unnamed plants clawed at him. The pinch and twinge of pain grounding him enough to produce further