Short Story – Love and Sweat


Love and Sweat

A Short Story

I have only myself to blame for this predicament and now, there was no way out. I feel trapped. The beaded sweat begins to pool and trickle down my forehead. Wiping it away from my brow I smile nervously, pretending that I am not really terrified or scared witless, but I am. I am absolutely petrified.

The atmospheric pressure has increased dramatically, and the weight is distressing. It is as if I am trapped at the bottom of the deep end of a swimming-pool of doubt and I am floundering. I dare not breathe, and I am losing my head, my very sanity. I may just go crazy, for even insanity will surely be a welcomed respite from such duress.

My left leg commences vibrating of its own accord, and in turn my foot starts tapping as if possessed by a thousand demons, all hell bent on breaking into a volatile tap-dance. Shortly, it is joined by my right knee as it jerks of its own discord and rhythm. Trying not to fall over as my legs involuntarily alternate between doing a jelly-like salsa, and a psychotic stationary tango, I shift my weight, but find no solace. I have lost control of my body.


All that I am, and all that I wanted has brought me here and yet … and yet … I have never been so transfixed. The butterflies in my stomach have taken flight and turned into monstrous, flapping dragons; fiery and turning my insides into a scorching bilious soup of misgiving. The pernicious heat surges, and envelopes me, scalding my sensitivities.

My mind wants to take flight, and flee, but my heart will have none of it. I am a mere puppet, and my heartstrings make me dance. The fear has me routed to the spot and yet my limbs tremble. I stretch my arms out in front of me to beg for relief: a muted plea for mercy.

Fate gently smiles at me and cradles me in the present. There is no escape and there is no reprieve. There is only the now, and the now stretches on for an eternity. The seconds are minutes, and minutia become millennia. Frozen and sweating, I smile once again, a crazed fool seeking repentance and perhaps even acceptance.

What feeds my psyche unnerves me the most of all. My mortal craving will set my carnal desires alight, all transcending beyond explanation. What I truly feel cannot be expounded for there are no linked syllables capable of apt depiction of the tortuous rhapsody to which I have found myself elevated.

My mind’s truth and my heart’s unspoken yearning is wrestling to be set free. An overwhelming sense of urgency grips me fiercely, reminding me to be courageous. Now is the time for bravery and unabashed honesty. There are no more masks to shed, and I am laid bare, vulnerable and yet strangely empowered. There is strength is openness. My being is transparent and yet tangible.

Finally, and with dry lips I prepare to speak. The time has come and only a fool will turn away. With an inelegant croak, I voice my most fervent thoughts, “I love you too ….”

I have not written fiction in 72 days, 1 hour, 53 minutes. It feels good to write again. What is this chaos we call life?

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2 Responses

  1. Jo Roderick says:

    I'm pleased you liked it. I got the idea for the twist and I thought it would be fun to overdramatise the moment of when people are first expected to return the, "I love you too" sentiment.

  2. Vickyloo says:

    What an engrossing story! I love it! Your descriptions are so dark and enthralling.

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