So.... About the mind game. I see it like this. The game has 3 layers of interaction. The 1st layer is such "small" people who can act, think and feel and there are certain environment and situation. On this layer, we do something, we communicate, we test each other, we get into some situations. In the "frame" of your character you can do absolutely everything.
The second layer is the level of directors. On this layer we describe the thoughts and feelings of our characters, we make assumptions, we discuss the plot, we share our impressions and so on. (Actually the game start exactly with this layer.) Oftentimes I prefer to play an open game. (I am that maniac who calls to a police office to warn about him goin commit a crime.) The game gives a possibility to make assumptions, to have several attempts to fix something if there's a need for this.
And the third level refers to the real us, what we get from our interaction, and how we change as we approach and get to know each other. Personally, I see a fourth level here, which is the narrative style. Of course you can see also other layers here. All this should be expressed in a completely free form, as if we are just writing a letter including a description of the actions, thoughts and feelings caused by the game. Other thoughts and discussions can be discussed both during the game and before or after. I'd rather have it all in one rambling pile and immerse in it completely and fatally. So as you can see, it is an unpredictable interaction, almost unpredictable plot, unpredictable effect and result. :))) It seems to me that it will be more natural if we will switch in the leading role. That is, the first game is mine. I'm putting you in the situation where I want to test you, after I will satisfied of my little co-writer, and you've completed all my tasks and solved all my puzzles, I'll let you put me in your world and play with me as you want. But in any case, both of us are present in any game, and I even think that an extraordinary seizure of power is possible here.
1 - my moves in the game.
2 - the moves of my partner.)
1. So you said "yes"!... Are you sure you said that out of your own free will, and not being hypnotized by the forest and the forest fairy? :))) Anyway, it's very pleasant to lead a person like you into a fantasy world,... roads of uncertainty and riddles.
You are now a toy in my world, but a toy that I have all the respect for, so now I'm giving you the opportunity to equip yourself properly and take with you everything that you think might be useful to you in this adventure. I am interested to know what you expect to find here and what you will take with you to protect yourself and complete a certain mission. (And maybe impress me a little.. :))
When you are ready, come to the magic forest, make a bow to the ground and enter the kingdom of the forest.
2. Experience has taught me that, when venturing into the forest, it's best to be both well-prepared and, at the same time, to travel light. So, for this adventure, I fill my rucksack with the usual modest and multi-purposeful things, such as:
- a little length of rope,
- several squares of patterned cloth, a needle, and thread,
- a lightweight fabric tarpaulin the color of earth, and sealed with beeswax,
- a little mirror,
- some matches, and a small folding knife,
- a warm sweater,
- a pocket-sized notebook, a pen,
- and a couple of crisp, simple apples.
Kaleidoscopic little flashes of anticipation, as I collect these:
I am building a structure, I am making a fire, I am capturing stars, I am drawing a map, I am walking in clouds, I am searching for something, I am running from something, I am burying something valuable in the earth,
I make a little shelter where we huddle, shivering in the half-dark, as rain falls around us; I wake alone, dry-mouthed and desperate, wandering in spirals, encountering marks and signs I will only think to make later; I see strange lights in the distance, I move towards them, I return to myself; the landscape swells and shifts in twilight like the ocean, but I'm no longer afraid.
...Experience has taught me, however, that my anticipations are almost always wrong. So, with an open heart, and a deep breath,
I bow to the forest ground, and take a step forward.
1. Your anticipations of the game are beautiful! The forest Fairy, knowing your dizzying sweet torments, strokes the leaves of ashberry tree with her hand, sending a resonance throughout the forest. "Such a naive young deer, he has nothing to protect himself with." - You can almost hear that whisper which could make you to want to look around anxiously.
Well... you didn't bring any weapons. I think part of it is because you don't want to use something violent in such a "holy "place for you like forest, and part of it is because you know that your strongest weapon is your warm heart.
You see a path in front of you. I think you'll follow it. But that's just my guess. I can't do anything instead of you. You might want to climb a tree right away or do something else, I don't know. But I invite you to enter using such a banal way. :)
2. Yes, you are right: I didn't bring any weapons for these reasons—and some others (for instance, that the tools we have also shape our perception of problems and solutions, as well as how we see ourselves within them). You read me well :)
I find forest paths pretty irresistible, in fact; after all, each leads someplace, and usually, someplace interesting. So, I follow this path into the woods. But I follow with a forager's instinct, ready to stray from the trail to investigate anything that looks intriguing...and alert to the signs of secret paths, barely-worn, or partially-erased. I listen, too, pausing every so often, to better hear the shape of this forest's...silence? something else?
1. You are walking along the path, and suddenly you notice a little girl walking to meet you on the path very close, as if she appeared out of nowhere, or you just did not notice how she got out from behind the raspberry bushes (because you were absorbed in studying the side untrodden paths). This is a little girl about 8 years old, dressed in a white dress. She has red hair, a sad face, and a small basket in her hands. She looks at you with a very attentive gaze and says demanding and dreamy at the same time "Take me out of the forest."
... Yes, it's definitely "something else" :))
2. The little voice catches me quite by surprise. For half a heartbeat, I am startled, but then, apprehending the situation, I quickly drop to one knee, in order to meet the child's gaze at the same level. "Where are you coming from, dear?" I ask gently, "and where is it you want to go?"
1. (The game has only just begun, but I can already feel you much closer, finding your physicality among other things. When you said you drop to one knee to be available for contact with the child, I thought you must be tall. How tall are you? And please don't think this is molestation, but I must warn you that if a man has a refined physique and is fine boned, I can't miss this beauty that I admire so much. So my narrative will include some description of this admiration from time to time when I feel it appropriate to express.)
The girl is looking at you. She's calm. From her appearance, it doesn't look like she's lost or in a panic state. She looks like the mistress of the forest, or even like the part of it, like the most bright beam breached through the treetops. But why does she ask you to take her out of her domain?... The girl doesn't answer your questions, but she asks her own. "Are you real?" She puts her hand in the basket and hands you a sprig with a few raspberries hanging on it. "If you're real, then get me out of the woods."
2. Ah, yes: I am tall :) In our funny measure, I am roughly 6'3" (~190cm, right?). And you are welcome to admire my form, or how you imagine it, anyway... without limits :)
Slowly I extend a hand, catching the sprig of raspberries on my open palm. With gentle reverence and curiosity, I inspect the delicate gift. Then, with a warm, subtle smile, I direct my gaze back towards the child. "If I am to get you out of the woods, dear," I softly answer, "then I imagine we will need to get to know one another much better first. And in the process," I add playfully, "we will surely discover whether I'm real or not." We are likely not so far, I think to myself, from where I first entered; it shouldn't be too much work for us to return the way I came. But my intuition tells me that in this case, the path we need will take us deeper into the forest first. I gesture, then, towards the path ahead. "How far must we go to reach the other side, do you think?" I ask. Carefully, I fold the raspberry sprig into my pocket. Extending a hand, and broadening my smile, I add: "Wouldn't you like to find out together?"
1. The girl is flattered by this treatment, as well as your desire to do something together. She accepts your invitation with a joyful, noisy breath of delight. But after a few moments, she becomes sad again. "I know this forest inside out. I've been wandering around here for 31 years. And I want to get out of here. There are few raspberries, but a lot of evil. The Forest Fairy inhabits here. She's evil because she's a witch. Do you know that ordinary people can also be evil?" The girl looked at you briefly, and without waiting for an answer, she turns away from you and walks forward along the path.
Your intuition didn't fool you. If you just take the girl by the hand and rush with her to the exit from the forest which is still visible if you look back, then at the exit, all you will have left is only a sprig of raspberries in your pocket. Don't look back! Follow her. And get her out of the woods!
2. Without hesitation, I follow.
A little more alert now to our surroundings, with a slight prickling sensation at the back of my neck. Such a brief encounter, I think, to produce so many questions! What enchantments lie ahead of us? I scan the tangled treetops above us, try to see through the illegible brush out ahead; worry, like a little stone, sinks and settles into my heart. My gaze returns to the child. If there's a way to free her from this forest, I think, then certainly, I must find it. But who is this Forest Fairy, with whom I must first match wits...?
1. The forest is a beautiful place. But you see how, in an instant, anxiety can move the trees overhead. How can you bring back that serene feeling when the beauty of the forest is a landscape whose contemplation deprives the ability to behold replacing it with the ability to stare? What does it take for the forest to regain its lost friendliness? How do you make its magic work for you? Think!
You soon realize that moving along the forest path is not a walk, but a run on the spot, while the trees rush past you, the path changes direction sharply, causing dizziness, you feel that it becomes very difficult to stay on the path, and you lose its direction. Now the bushes and trees flash in front of you, you don't crash into the trees, but you can't control the speed, and it gets so frenzied that you'll probably close your eyes. And at that moment, the race will stop.... Look around...
...You and your companion are probably somewhere in the middle of the forest.... There are no paths, but the forest itself is not dense and the crowns let in a lot of light. The girl is sitting down on a fallen tree. She's not tired, but she's unhappy and exhausted. You can see the tears in her eyes and a few thin scratches on her cheeks. Her dress is torn a little and her hair is disheveled and has some dry pine needles in it. She is trying to clean her dirty knees with her no less dirty hands. But after a moment, she looks at you and says to you decidedly , "We'll never get out of here. It's impossible. But if you're real, you have to try. You should always try! As long as you try, I have hope. If you stop trying, you will lose, and I will lose hope... and the game is over." After such a strange "prophecy", the girl looks at you and says in a rather demanding voice. "I want a banana."
2. "Come now," I reply plucking a pine needle from the child's hair, kneeling down, opening my rucksack—"nothing is impossible. And I'm not leaving you behind; we'll find our way out yet, and find it together." I pull a fold of cloth from my bag, and extend it with a helping gesture; together, we clean the mud from her hands, and then, her knees. "I'm sorry to admit to you, dear one," I continue, "that I didn't think to pack any bananas, but once we make it out of here, we'll head to a shop straight away, and I'll buy you the finest banana of the bunch. In the meantime," I ask, "wouldn't you like an apple?" I pull one from my rucksack—a deep red, streaked with bright green. "When I'm eating apples," I add, "I love to imagine that each apple is a dream, dreamed by a tree, and preserved on its branch."
Eager to lift the little girl's spirits, I continue. "Evil fairy aside, there is some loveliness in this forest, don't you think? It's just that when we're lost, the loveliness likes to hide. But if we take a little time to become acquainted with our surroundings, I am sure we can coax some prettiness back into the open, and establish friendly ties. With, for example,"—I point to a tree nearby, slender, and slightly curving—"this fellow. What do you think he's called?" I ask. "If we learn his name," I add, "then I am sure he will reveal his personality to us, too: how the sun falls upon his sides, the sighs in his branches, the sound of his laughter."
I lean back, resting my head on the mossy surface of the fallen tree. "We can play at naming things here for as long as you'd like," I say. "But when you're ready," I add, "I have an idea for how we can start to find our way again." I lean forward, reach back into the rucksack, and pull out my little mirror. I continue: "I'll absolutely need your help, though. You see...we have tried the forest path; and we see how that has turned out for us, we have ended up here, with no path at all. So then: if navigating by forest signs deceives us, maybe it's time we try something new! Have you noticed," I say, gesturing upwards, "how open the canopy is here? Between the branches, do you see those thick, bright clouds, sailing lazily overhead? We'll follow them for a while. You'll use this mirror, holding it in front of you, turned towards the sky—and when you capture a cloud on its surface, you'll follow the path of its flight. In the meantime, I will follow, making sure that you don't wander straight into a tree," I say, smiling playfully. Offering up the mirror in my outstretched hand, I ask: "What do you say?"
1. The girl's heart is pounding wildly, she has never met so much tender attention from adults. The desire to be stubbornly naughty about the banana disappeared instantly. "I want half an apple. And you will eat the other half and we will say together "mmmm" with pleasure. When I like what I eat, I always say "mmmm."..
When you lie down on the ground using a fallen tree as a pillow, the girl sits down next to you, leaning her back against the same tree. This is a very good location for conversation. She looks at the trees. "I don't want to give the trees names. There are a lot of them now. If this "fellow" becomes special to me... then,... what if I lose my new friend later? And he and I will be very sad.... I am not that strong as the Little Prince is".
Your idea of a mirror is definitely tempting! All girls love small mirrors. And wizards like you, too? :)) She literally snatches it out of your hand. But distracted from its direct purpose, she begins to catch the sun with it in order to "adjust" the sunbeam. "You know, Forest Fairy is not so terrible. I created her beautiful. Otherwise, it doesn't make sense." - she said, pointing the sunbeam directly at your face. "Well, let's go?!"
I want to express some of my thoughts about our game. I do not know whether you notice or not how I test you and cut off those ways of influence where I find no resistance. I have to find something that will be a real challenge for you. If I can't find anything to "hook" you with (I already suspect that you are invulnerable), then I have a trap that can only be escaped by breaking out of your boundaries. This is a desperate jump that should become a flight!
As for the very top layer of our game, I want to say that you are already changing me with your "cleansing" touches on the girl's hands and knees. I wonder what it feels like to be on top layer? What could you take from all this?
I will be waiting for your letter with your reaction to the new information in our fairy tale. I like the feeling of being immersed in this story. I'm happy to have you as a partner for the game. You write that it is valuable for you to find a friend in me, with whom there is a harmonious mutual growth. I, for my part, want to say that I have found in you the kind of partner for the game that I have been looking for a long time. I'm sorry for the Little Prince, he didn't have you as his friend!
2. About our game: hmm, yes, I certainly notice how you test me, but your phrase "cut off those ways of influence where I find no resistance" is a little unclear to me (surely my own sluggish mind to blame here!) could you clarify a little? Anyway, you are certainly quite masterfully setting the scene, and setting up intrigue :) You may still hook me yet, but I don't think I've yet exhausted my resources, either...
At the top layer...one thing I've noticed recently: I feel how skillfully you evoke my tenderness, playfulness, gentleness, and protectiveness. And although these are qualities already pronounced in my everyday existence, I feel how they take on more color in my life outside the game, as a result of our activities within it. That's really nice.
I'm so pleased to hear that you enjoy playing with me. It really is a special way to communicate :)
"Oh," I answer, "it pleases me so, that you would like to share an apple with me! I believe that splitting it in two will only make it more delicious—and then, too, we will remember how we both said 'mmmm' together, and in time, this memory will grow even sweeter than the fruit itself." With a warm and dreamy expression, I quickly carve the apple into halves, and hand the sweeter-looking half to the girl.
Resting my head then, and idly rolling a fallen twig between my fingers, I reply, "yes, I understand you—we needn't give the trees names, then; after all, we might never return to this spot, once we get you out of these woods. Just notice, then, how warm the forest feels just now, when we are warm ourselves; we smile, and it seems to smile back at us. Isn't that so?" While speaking, I have pressed my little twig into pliability, and tied it into the shape of a soaring bird; I offer it now to the girl, with a warm, open expression.
...Then: laughing, dodging sunbeams, I answer: "Yes, dear: you lead the way!", and hop to my feet. As we set out, I ponder the little girl's last curious comments. Yes, I think: you are full of riddles, my mysterious little friend. Wherever this path leads, it won't be simple...
1. I will gladly explain to you what it means "to cut off those ways of influence where I find no resistance". Actually I haven't cut anything yet. :))) I just try to find your weak side (sides) to out you off your comfort zone. For example I tried to be spoiled and capricious with you, but your tenderness made it absolutely impossible. And since our game is a frank interaction, I can't allow my hero to act the way I don't feel. You melted me and my girl happily eat apple with you (leaving bananas for naughty monkeys). Actually I still can move in this direction because it is so magical pleasant to bath in your tenderness... Yes I won't cut it off yet :))) And if someday you meet the Forest Fairy you will surprise how mastery she can play on this your string and how much pleasure she could get from searching for limit point of your patience, and after found it, to balance on it moving this limit further and further from former you.
I believe that some influence could be achieved by your compassion to girl's suffering. But it is not that kind of influence I want. It might kill you without any resistance from your side! Fear? I believe I can easily frighten my young deer. :) But again I am not sure at all that you can give up because of such an animal feeling. You can work through fear and pain for sure. You are not only a young deer, but also a noble one, aren't you?... Oh... While I was reflecting about it, I come up a new trick.... :)
It was very beautiful moment when you proffered a girl a sweeter-looking half an apple. This is a pure parental trait to do that! I don't know if kids notice when we give them the best things we have. Maybe it is more important for adults to do that for their beloved children. I am as an adult appreciate this simple deed and watching the girl, I am wondering, how she might be so engrossed in eating at that moment. :))
You come to me every day. I think I should mention here how important this is to me. It is very important for me to be sure that I will see you at a certain time or have an idea how much this meeting will be postponed sometimes. You take care of me not only as your friend, but also as "your patient". I really feel myself like that with you. By saying this I don't mean to impose any additional responsibility on you, but just to emphasize the importance to me the responsibility you already demonstrate towards me.
Hm... The girl of course can be attracted by your hands playing with twig, but only her curiosity. But what you do with the self-control of the Evil Fairy?! My gasp of excitement disheveled your hair with sudden breath of wind. Don't tease me like that in our game! You will awake a storm you won't cope with.
Here I also wanted to discuss topic we were going to comeback to. Our characters in the game. My girl is not me like I was in my childhood. I was not an embodiment of a childhood like this girl in a white dress. This girl is just a beauty I wanted to be while I was a kid. A beautiful dress, pretty appearance, a confident manner to speak, a desire to interact with an adult man in such a bold manner... I know, maybe it could be better to introduce you the real Ugly Duckling I was... But it is not me anymore. And I don't know if I should recollect my past. But it is for now at least. I don't know where our game will bring us further... What you could tell about your character? But if you don't know what to add to this beautiful tall man with warm eyes and hot heart, you of course may skip this my question, or keep it for another case.
So.... The girl directs the mirror as you told her and catches the clouds moving there. With such a compass, she begins to move in a certain direction, she is very enthusiastic and does not look at her feet at all. And soon she falls, because her foot caught in a "trap" of thin branches of a creeping shrub. Her basket rolled away, and I'm not sure if the berries are still there or if they were scattered on the grass. Ok, now she can cry bitterly. She stood up. Her knees are ok, there are no bruises or something, but her left ankle hurts having got a slight sprain. She makes a step and says through her tears "I can't walk!" Then she sees her basket. "My raspberry! Collect my raspberry!" she cries.
2. As the child falls, I cry out, reaching my arm after her—but it's no good, she's rushed too far ahead. "Oh dear," I say, "what a stumble that was! My poor kid. I know how scary that feels! And how the pain stings, too...do you see the mossy log there, just to your side?" I ask. "Dear, will you take a little rest there, while I gather your raspberries? I'd like to take a look at your wounds, before you bravely try to walk again." With this, I tilt the girl's basket upright, and begin to scan the ground for raspberries. "Luckily," I tell her, "my eyes are well-trained for this task; in the autumn, when I forage in forests like this one for mushrooms—all sorts!—I can notice even the slightest splash of color, and from far away, too." I pluck a couple of raspberries from the grass, and make a show of returning them to the girl's basket. "Wouldn't you like to go foraging with me sometime? Or, if you don't like mushrooms, then at least, we can search for berries together. With two of us picking them, we'll have twice as much in the end," I say—smiling warmly, and making sure to catch her eyes from time to time, as I speak. I drop a few more berries in the basket...and, not seeing any more of them, I stand up, and return the basket to the girl.
"Now," I say, "may I take a look at that ankle of yours? This is where it hurts, right?" I ask, very delicately taking her left ankle in my hand. "If it is sprained, then you'll need to rest it a little—and it would help if we make sure it doesn't move much, too." I pull another cloth from my bag, and briefly soak it with cool water. "Here," I say, "I will tie this cloth around the place where it hurts—gently, of course!—and with this support, the pain should grow a little quieter."
"Of course," I continue, "you shouldn't walk for a little while. But we don't have to stop moving, if you'd like to go on. When you're ready, you can climb up onto my shoulders—and, using the mirror, continue navigating us by clouds; if you need me to adjust my direction to the left or right, you can simply give a little tug on my corresponding ear," I say, laughing. "What do you think? We can travel when you're ready, but we can rest as long as you'd like. Ah, and...did I manage," I ask, "to collect all of your raspberries? Is anything else missing-?"
1. While you are picking up berries, the girl looks at you dreamily. She thinks that it's probably great to build a model from a constructor with you sitting side by side on the carpet.... handing "naughty" details to you..... She becomes more and more thoughtful, as if immersed in a memory or a dreams. It seems that she does not hear your words at all.... Watching you deal with her ankle, she suddenly says seriously "Thank you".
The pain in the girl's ankle really subsides from your touch and from your amazing medical skills! :)) When she got her basket back. She looks carefully inside counting berries with her finger. Finally she says, "I hope it will be enough. I should feed my sweet Dasher".
...There was one very touching moment in your description of the girl's fall scene, namely your reaction when you realize that you are too far away to prevent her from falling. Distance.... time... different worlds of habitat... misunderstanding... prejudices make us helpless in situations where our hands could support a person from falling. Your cry is a barely audible sigh, but it echoed throughout this forest that grew on bones...
Of course, the girl does not want to sit still! She wants to ride sitting on your shoulders holding your head, touching your ears and hair. :))) "Put me gently on your shoulders, be careful with my ankle and do not wave your hands too much, so as not to push my basket with berries!"
2. "I am so happy, little friend, that you aren't seriously hurt. The forest can be a dangerous place; we both know this, don't we? But some days, it smiles, too, while teaching us with just a little bit of roughness," I say—smiling myself, standing, and stretching my back a little. "So then," I continue, "let's see about setting you upon your funny new horse!"
I notice that the mossy log that the girl sits upon thickens, just a little ways away, near its partially-exposed roots. "Can you scoot down this way," I ask, "just a little bit? If not," I add, "I can lift you softly, and carry you there. It should be easier for me to scoop you onto my shoulders, if we can place you just a little higher up," I explain.
Once the child is sitting on the elevated end of the tree, I kneel down. "Ok: now," I say, "lift your feet—" I catch the toes of her shoes gently in my hands, and pull them over my shoulders. "Now, slide forward, and fall onto me; you can grab my messy horse hair for support," I add, with laughter in my eyes. "Oh," I add, "would you like me to carry your basket for you, for a little while? And, as we travel, will you tell me a little something about your sweet Dasher-?"
1. "No! You're not a horse! I'm afraid of horses, they snort, and their breath is too hot. You're a young deer. I will ride a young deer."
(And now let's see how you react to the return tenderness.)
Once on your shoulders, the girl notifies you that it is comfortable for her to sit there. "Oh, now I'm so high and can see far away", she can't help but sigh with delight. "Yes, you can carry my basket for now," she added quickly and casually. Holding your head, she snuggles up to you, hugging you, wrapping her arms around your face and burying her face in your hair for a moment. "It's so cool! You're hairy, prickly, tall, and you smell like a forest. I just wanted such a deer! Hahaha! Now let's go ahead!" While you are moving carefully trying to see the way between the hands of the girl, who do not seem to care at all that she can create some interference with your viewing, she whispers affectionate words. "I love my Dasher. He is the most beautiful, he is warm, he is able to hear me and come to me wherever I am. If I fall into a deep hole, he will follow after me there, even if he knows that it is impossible to get out of there. I think he loves me too." Then she remembers about her basket and demanding to return it to her, puts her hand there. She takes one berry and holding it to your mouth says, "Take this, Dasher. You have to eat it to have the strength. Take it gently from my hand, with your lips only, as deer do".
2. "Ah," I answer, "I knew there was a reason I liked you from the start! You see, little friend, I am afraid of horses myself! So, yes, make me a young dear, and I will be much more comfortable in my own fur, too."
I accept the little girl's basket, and begin to move forward, careful to avoid any low-hanging branches, and extra-cautious with my steps. Whenever the child's hands obscure my vision, I pause, laugh, and subtly adjust the position of my head, mimicking the dipping, bowing motion of a deer, in order to improve my view. "Have you ever seen a deer as tall as this one?" I ask.
A warm rush of feeling fills my chest when the child offers me a raspberry. It is rare, but occasionally, I really can directly sense the affection of another—and it is always an overwhelmingly touching sensation. "How thoughtful of you," I say, "to care for me in this way! You are such a helpful and good traveling companion. I can sense that this raspberry will give me all the energy I need right now." Delicately, I extend my lips, and pluck the berry from the child's hand.
1. We have been making our way through the forest for a long time. The girl became quiet and probably dozed off. You feel that your strength is running out. Magic raspberries? It looks like the girl ate it herself. Although 3 small berries still certainly invigorated you on the way. As soon as you thought about fatigue, you saw a path. Then the girl muttered in a sleepy voice. "This is the way out of the forest, we have come". And when you came out on the path, she asked you to let her down to the ground. Putting the girl on her feet and holding her slightly you look forward, where you can really see the exit from the forest.... Green meadow... blue sky... freedom... The girl looks there also, you don't see what her face expresses. You have only her thin shoulders, which you hold with your hands, silence and the exit visible ahead. When the pause becomes unbearable, the girl speaks. "Will you lead me out of the forest? Or did you remember that you left your backpack near a fallen tree?"
2. How uncharacteristic of me, I think—with an anxious fluttering in my chest—to leave something like a backpack behind...but then, yes, I was carrying the child, and worrying over her ankle, her basket of berries...and it has indeed been a tiring journey.
It's difficult to believe that we have come to the exit more or less without complication. Where is this Forest Fairy, or her works, to prevent our exit? And, if we have managed to make it to this point within the span of...how long now have we been in the forest? I pause. It seems I have really lost track of time...at any rate, if we have already managed to find this exit, what has prevented this child from finding it for thirty-some years thus far?
"Something doesn't seem quite right," I say. "Have we really reached the edge of the forest? And...can you and I leave, just like that, together? The backpack isn't so important, and anyway, I can always return for it later, right? Unless there is some reason you would like for us to return for it, some reason to keep us here...let's pause for a moment," I suggest, sitting down in the leaves—alongside the girl, but with my back turned to the exit, pulling my knees up to my chest.
"If we walk towards that exit now," I ask, "what will happen next?"
1. Sometimes (quite often) I can imagine how I would act in the game in your place. And that's exactly where I understand how much we are different. When we discuss something, our opinions often converge and it is easy for us to explain something to each other, because what one of us says is consonant with the other's way of thinking.... And our game complements this harmony so well. It's like a bolt from the blue :)))
"I do not know what would have happened if we had come out of the forest along this path now. We'll never know anymore. But whatever happens, know that you are real and know that I love you."
I'm glad you realized that the mention of the forgotten backpack was the girl's desire for you to stay. But at the same time, it was also an excuse that you could use to stay. But you think that you can talk to a girl seriously and "not wave off with a backpack". "If we walk towards that exit now, what will happen next?"- this question of you does not have your former playfulness... Your words are clearly not addressed to a girl who is lost... But to whom then? Believe me, I know to whom.
You look confused... Your pose when you sit with your arms around your knees is beautiful... (I can't ignore this beauty.) Your belief in the tricks of the Evil Fairy closes the exit of the forest and freedom. You hear this slamming of the door, like a thousand knives falling and sticking into the ground. It makes you look back. When you turn around to see if the girl is scared, she is no longer in front of you. She's nowhere to be found!
The forest turns cold, gray. The branches of the trees are covered with a mortifying rime. At the same time, you feel how cold covers you. Did you wondered about the Evil Fairy? Her cold hands penetrate under your shirt and stroke your back. (Yes, I can't ignore your beauty). A strong gust of wind makes your head turn to the side, which opens access to your neck and her cold lips press against your throbbing vein. But the coldest thing is your hands. Your wrists feel a pressing icy touch. These are the shackles that bind your hands and make you as beautiful as submission itself. "How are you feeling? Talk to me!", you can hear from everywhere in the wind.
2. In a vertiginous instant, I recognize my mistake. I am pinned to the earth by an extraordinary heaviness; my heart floods with a thick tangle of panic, shame, distress, and sorrow. Thoughts come complete in flashes: if only I hadn't been inattentive at just this moment! We could have wandered together indefinitely...and how I would have loved to do so...
My spine stiffens at the stroke of icy fingers, and I shiver as I feel my tender neck so exposed—although, in my desperate state, for a moment, I almost welcome the shackles binding my wrists. But...I realize that if the child had been an illusion of some sort, then these sensations must be another side of the same entity which, until a moment ago, appeared in the form of my little friend. And if that's so, then there is still something in this forest—even in the agent of these new sensations—to love. And so (although it takes some strength), I risk this interpretation, and answer:
"By the way, I don't think we were ever properly acquainted, dear. What would you like me to call you?"
1. You're right, you really don't know each other very well. The little girl who needs your care knows you (you have collected her berries), but the force that makes you accept the handcuffs with relief does not know you (you have not yet collected her knives). The handcuffs on your beautiful wrists exclude the possibility of meeting her with open arms, they give your image an aesthetic that drives her crazy, they give you a reason to admire your refined features (which again drives her crazy), they put you in the position of a slave who can enjoy submitting to your flighty mistress and at the same time give you the opportunity to lock yourself in your opposition. What a small detail and what a wide range of possibilities!
Having met the mistress of the forest, you already feel her power from the very first moments. Yes, she is the ruler here. But there is something that her methods cannot do. And here there is a paradox of self-exclusion. She knows the way to your heart, but prefers to be content with sliding over your shivering body. It's much more complicated than you think, dear. The slammed door turned out to be slammed not in front of you, but behind you, letting you go to a new level. You didn't make a mistake, but you make everything worse by moving towards your victory.
I may be wrong, but it seems to me that I already feel some (long-awaited for me) resistance in you. It is very difficult for me to move even as ephemeral gusts of wind. It is difficult for me to interpret your words and feelings. Stop! Do not refute or confirm anything! I like to feel this confusion of mine. Haha.
"If I give you a word that will define me, then you will quickly find an antidote. You're too smart. You brought the girl out of the forest without much difficulty. ...Hmmm.... Call me Forest Fairy. This name is the least suitable for me, it is already a kind of antidote. Find the antidote to the antidote!"- laughter sprinkled you with frost from the branches. "If it seems to you that I have answered your question, then be polite and still answer mine. So how do you feel, dear?"
2. "Ah," I answer, "well, I will call you Forest Fairy for the time being, then; you certainly resemble her, with these spectacular displays," I add, turning a wrist over, and admiring—a little teasingly—the particular delicacy it takes on beneath the cool cuff.
"You ask how I feel so insistently, dear Fairy," I say, "and this is quite charming to me! But how am I to answer? I feel, as always, many things at once. Right now, I am, of course, quite worried about my child friend; I made her a promise, and feel responsible for her care. If, however, it is possible to find her again, I know that I will.
At the same time, I feel quite curious, Fairy—about your knives, your frost, these chains. I wonder why you want to impress me so. And just what you want with me, as your captive-? I wonder, too, whether I'll consent to give you what you want, or whether instead, I'll choose to escape...ah, but now that I say it aloud, it sounds cruel to even speak of escape, before we've had the opportunity to get to know one another. So," I add, looking upwards, with a smile, "Where would you like to begin?"
1. You're worried about your little friend. It's natural to worry about who you saved. Your girl is safe, know and remember this. If you want to see her again - just do not lose the ability to see the child,... just put the toy made by your hands, hide and wait for her to come out of her adult hiding place to take it furtively into her little hands...
I see that you have well learned the "teasing function" of handcuffs.:))) But you have questions about the rest.... Nevertheless, you keep a cheerful and playful spirit. I would say that you speak defiantly with the Fairy. Hmmm... I've never noticed any impertinence in you before. Does it appear only when you are shackled and are alone in the forest with a maniac fairy who admires your wrists? :)))
Dear, it's good that you changed your mind about escape. It's really inappropriate in such a romantic setting. :)))
"Where do we start? We'll start with the knives. If you collect my knives and do not cut your hands at the same time, then you will receive my "hot" kiss as a reward." After these words, the breath of the forest has subsided, you realize that you are left alone. Meanwhile, no scattered "cutlery" is visible in the vicinity.... Only the cold forest and your "chained" tantalizing beauty..
2. Reassured about my little friend, something taut within me loosens, and I feel more ready to commit myself completely to this new scenario. Surely, I think, even if my Fairy should remove the chains, I wouldn't escape now; I am curious to see where this new experience will lead. Although...I also immediately feel this exhilarating charge of pleasure in being chained, in such an artistic vulnerability, knowing that even as I am alone, she is somewhere, watching...
But just how am I go about finding these knives? I stand, feeling more fully now the subtlety and possibility in my long legs...I take a few steps forward, and tease apart the leaves with a toe, looking for a cutting reflection of the sky. Unless, that is, these aren't ordinary knives she wants me to find...I continue onwards then, back into the forest: casting my gaze to and fro, across the forest floor, lifting it every so often to the trees as well, and waiting, patiently, for some intuitive flash of recognition to spark.
1. While you are walking through the forest and looking for signs, Forest Fairy calms down. It's really pleasant for her to know that you're getting closer and closer. Your handcuffs aren't icy anymore. This beautiful handiwork made of tree bark. It is a gift from a Forest fairy. :))) The engraving reads: "To my dear deer from a loving and all-seeing mistress." And you feel that the forest is slowly thawing. The source of heat is you, there can be no question of any natural "springtime" here!
After walking for a long time, you suddenly see a completely strange phenomenon - a rope ladder hangs directly from the sky. I think you're surprised. And of course you will come closer to it to see what it is holding on to. After examining the stairs and making sure that its beginning disappears somewhere in the clouds, you have time to remember about the notorious absurd, but you can't go deeper into these reflections because you hear a voice from somewhere above, but not from the top steps of the ladder. "Help me get to the ladder. I can't walk on the ground, knives cut my feet". Oh, knives! - perhaps you are excited. But again, no knives are visible. You go moving to the source of the voice and quickly find a tree on which a living being is sitting somewhere high in the branches. This creature speaks in a female voice, but because of the dense foliage you can't see her properly.
2. This warming transformation—of my handcuffs, and of the forest around me—is enchanting, and it is fitting that I am its source, because (with my alertness to signs functioning more or less automatically) I really am swimming in my own thoughts now, in a brimful little pool of curiosity about this Forest Fairy: about her extremes of temperature, and of sensuality...questions begin take blurred, physical form—and it is this reverie that the strange sight of the rope ladder breaks.
...Peering up at the branches, I count a silent pang of regret at losing my backpack; the rope I brought would have been quite useful for climbing this tree. Is there another way up? I wonder, circling the trunk, looking for a hand or foothold...I answer: "I'll help you, of course! But maybe you can help me, too: just how did you manage to climb to your perch there?"
1. "No, no, no! I'm asking you not to get in here! I'm not dressed! Besides, if you climb up here, you will be absolutely useless. If the stairs could be reached from here, I would have done it myself long ago."... You hear a rustling, the woman is clearly climbing down. Soon you can clearly see one of her legs, which she deliberately lowered down to show you her cut foot. (It's not a pleasant sight, but you don't turn away when you see this, do you? ) "Here, look. It almost doesn't hurt anymore, but you still need to wash the wound. I need to wash up, you know?! (there is a slight hysteria in her voice) I want to climb up the ladder, and then dive into the pool from there." ....After waiting for a pause absolutely not enough to you to digest such information, she added, "Who are you? What talents do you have?"
2. "Who...hm, talents?" I answer, really trying to keep up. "I...well, I am a simple forest explorer, I suppose," I say. "As for talents," I add, "I am...really far too modest to describe myself in such terms; but you'll find, I think, that I have a little bit of skill in a lot of different places." Having seen the woman's wound (and you're right: I don't turn away from it), I worry that perhaps, she needs some medical care beyond what a simple dive into a pool offers—but of course, I will work with her demands first, and then, see what else we may accomplish along the way.
"Ok," I continue, "I hear you: you don't want me to come up there, you just need to access the rope ladder. Listen...do you think the rope ladder is long enough for me to bring it over, and convey it up to you—say, by raising it on a long limb?" I begin scanning the forest floor for just such a fallen branch. "And, if I can bring you the ladder, can you climb it from there? Or," I add, recalling that nothing in this forest seems to happen simply, "is there something else we'll need to do-?"
1. Yes, please find a long branch and try to pull the rope ladder to the tree. Perhaps this snake is suitable for this."- says the woman with an ironic note in her voice. ...A snake? Looking around, you really see a rather large snake watching you. But the woman gets annoyed (without letting you think about venomous and non-venomous snakes and their habitat and safety measures when interacting with them) and starts scolding you: "I'm tired of all sorts of branches and sticks! Think of something else! Deceive me in the end!"
How do you like the Forest Fairy? Isn't she truly beautiful with her wounds and strange desires? What does she really want? What can you do if you are so "limited" by having handcuffs on your wrists as her gift? (There are no hints in my rhetorical questions, if they are not obvious to you. Reason, provoke me to additional hints. Think hard, break your head, but do as your heart tells you.)
2. "Ah, you're right," I answer, "let's forget about sticks and branches. You see, I wouldn't be of much use with such tools anyway; my wrists are bound," I say, raising my arms to show her, letting my hands fall elegantly to one side, like the top of a little hemlock tree. I add: "but aren't these cuffs beautiful? When you come down from there, I will show them to you up close..."
The Forest Fairy truly is beautiful in her strangeness! She must know that my heart is perfectly tuned to appreciate such unusual people. But as for understanding just what she wants, or why she would arrange to meet on such unusual terms...this will require some more exploration.
"Dear tree creature, won't you tell me a little more about those wounds first?" I ask. "How did you come by them? How did they hurt? And what has happened to the knives that have treated you so rudely?"
"If those wounds are as they appear to be," I continue, "you won't be able to climb the ladder anyway, will you? So, if you really wish to wash them, I think you'll need to let me do it."
"That is," I add, turning and crouching to address the snake, "unless you have any better ideas, old boy."
1. I know these cuffs are beautiful (Their "manufacturer" was inspired by the very beautiful hands while making them), and the way they slide when you lift your hands up makes my heart skip a beat. (I hope you don't mind if the forest fairy changes her defining pronouns from "she" to "I"? )
I will try to help you in your research without answering any of your "provocative questions" in such a way as to deprive you of the opportunity to think with your head. I ask riddles, I'm literally burning with excitement, watching how you cope with them..... The conditions for a meeting in my opinion are ideal. Look. You are helpless, and all you can ultimately do at this stage is just talk to me. (This worked for my fantasy of a communication with a negotiator.) I am undressed (I want to note that I am completely undressed, I am not even wearing underwear or a loincloth made of leaves). This should be a source of additional difficulty in communicating with me. You are a gentleman, a sensual man, and at the same time an aging deer, and you know that your features and your aesthetics are very attractive to me. It is interesting for me to observe this "conflict", which accompanies your possible actions when interacting with a naked woman. (Conflict in the dramatic concept.).... My wounds are a big and serious riddle. ....Ladder, pool, snake and so on are the sweetest pieces - this is absurd. Quite simple but the functional absurdity that binds all the elements together, giving me the opportunity to survive in this rather directly pointing game. If you want to know, this game is the most important psychotherapy session in my life. The way you handle this is just amazing! Are you sure that philosophy is your vocation? I see you only as a soul healer so far :))) (Another stone thrown to Nietzsche's garden, as a punishment for your philosophizing.)
In response to your questions and the offer to watch your wrist "jewelry", you hear silence. It looks as if you have embarrassed the tree creature,... as if you have used a similar "hopeless situation technique" (that I love so much) against herself!... The rustling of leaves. Silence again....
But the war of geniuses is the war of geniuses, it can't be helped! "Ok, I am coming down," - I finally say. - But I like you badly, and you have to satisfy me sexually." After these threatening words you hear an active rustling of the foliage, and it can be assumed that someone is coming down from the tree. And soon you can behold both my legs hanging down while I am sitting on the lower branch. "Now you should close your eyes and I will come down from the tree, but you will not let me step on the ground, so that new cuts will not arise on my feet. My knives are still on the ground and you don't know how to collect them yet, so I will use your body as a means of transportation. Come closer to the trunk".
I hope that you fulfill the condition and close your eyes. "It's good that you're interested in my wounds" - I say, gently touching your neck and your shoulders with my toes, as you came closer, - I want you to look at them carefully, but without opening your eyes. I can't tell you more about them than you can see for yourself yet. (My foot slides lower, down your chest). When you get enough pain from this sight, you should let out a moan....Then lift your hands up. I will get your cuffs off and you will take off your shirt and give it to me. I hope you don't mind me wearing your shirt? :) After that, you can open your eyes and take me from the tree. ....Too many tasks? :) Be careful, and don't lose your head, as you lost your backpack," - children's laughter. (In some sense it means that I want to hear not only about your feelings and sensations, but also your logical reasoning and ideas.)
2. You find (yes, I’ll shift with you) that I am pleased by this suggestion, that I become your means of transportation; in fact, I wanted to suggest something like this myself, but wasn’t quite sure yet just how to coax you out of the tree...as I assume your plan and directions, I take secret pleasure in knowing that in this moment, you catch a little (only a little?) flash of my naivety. There is something significant for me in this quiet background exchange. I know you’ve been observing me for a long time now. I know that you know my strengths; and I know too that of the two of us, you are better able to see those borderlines at which my intuition routinely hesitates, or can be misdirected. I realize my subordination and vulnerability to you, while also perceiving where, within your world, we meet one another as equals; and there is a specific trust which emerges from this combination of feelings, which for me is somehow deeply, uniquely erotic.
For the time being, however, I am not really seeing you as a “naked woman” in a straightforwardly sensual way; rather, as a wounded creature, in need of my care. In light of this, your "sexual" comments feel like...a deflection, a distraction, or protection; but at the same time, my intuition suggests that synthesizing these “conflicting” aspects is part of the task at hand.
I close my eyes, of course; you know that I understand you perfectly here, and will comply faithfully. As your leg lowers across my chest, I lift my bound hands, soundlessly catching the arch of your foot in my fingers, and then lacing them around it, as though cradling a little bird. Moving gently, I trace the tendons hidden just beneath the surface...and then, with an involuntary little sigh, I slip my touch softly down, over the edges of your foot, towards the place where I know I will find your wounds.
I’m careful now, afraid of hurting you. Slowly, sensitively, I draw the tips of my fingers along the sole of your foot. As I begin to see, minute details expand; the surface of your skin transforms into a landscape...and, at last, my touch meets the ridge-like, slightly-puckered margin of a wound. I hesitate a moment, and then, cautiously, begin to trace its length. I feel a flush of sensation in my chest, followed by a sharp contraction...suddenly, it strikes me quite clearly that my previous questions for you were the wrong ones to ask. Perceiving at the wound’s edge, I understand that what is most important has nothing to do with a historical account of your wounding, or where the wounding weapon lies. Rather, I need to start first with your pain: to feel it with you, in all of its elements...I slide one fingertip over the surface, perceiving the ambient moistness of the tender, exposed interior of your wound...until, finally, with the most exquisite delicacy, I make gentle, probing contact with your raw flesh. And now, at once, I see: first, the lacerating shock of that first cut—and the absurdity of being wounded. You feel panic, confusion, an involuntary shiver...(all of which, only much later on, will unfold into the vertiginous realization that the world is not safe for you). Initially, instinct takes over, and without thinking, you simply work to stop the bleeding. But after a while, with a little bit of reflective distance, the wound really starts to ache and throb. Your worried mind races back around the edges of the moment, re-evaluating each factor, trying to find some retroactive combination capable of averting catastrophe. You fall asleep. You wake up: you are wounded again. What has happened? It’s inexplicable. And...it keeps happening. It’s terrifying. You wonder, as the wounds add up, what the cumulative damage will be...and you are haunted by childlike fears: about how many times you can heal, and whether closed wounds will truly stay closed, or whether they wait for some unspeakable moment to reopen…why have you been wounded, we ask? Maybe you have found an explanation for this by now yourself; but beneath that, we apprehend how quickly, at any moment, the ground beneath this (or any) explanation can give way…
At this, I am filled nearly to the brim with perceiving your pain. But I am simultaneously filled with a curious, sudden, corresponding desire, captured in an image, which flashes suddenly before me: of catching you in my arms, and pouring long, full, passionate kisses from my mouth into yours. This, I realize, is in answer to your pain: to seal my acceptance of it, to draw out your poison, to heal you. We have merged once now, passively, so that I could see your wounds, and feel how you have suffered. In whatever follows, I will be guided by this drive to merge with you again, this time, actively—in order this time to fill you with my own strength, and to protect and shelter you.
At least at the moment, this deeper source of passion (which exchanges superficial touches for meaningful ones) feels like the solution to some of the questions that have hung in the air. When at last, you hear my moan (as I release your foot from my grasp, and, yes, raise my bound wrists up to you in supplication), can you hear how pain and desire mingle in it—and why? As I surrender my shirt, I wonder: have I really perceived you this time? And...what comes next, dear Fairy?
1. Your game turn was so beautiful!... I'm trying to match it. :) I really like your first paragraph, which you included in the game. And especially its last word. The last words hanging on the line have a special magic effect, you know. I know this as a writer and of course I catch such beauty in what I read.
I know that you don't see me as a naked female object. For me, nudity is vulnerability, insecurity,...which I need so much when I'm with you, to get your protection and hugs in this context, when I risk being an "object", but I will never be one for you. You read my outrageous words quite correctly. This is both a defense, a distraction, and an absurd deviation - a shifter, the most inadequate words. You can probably guess that these words are deeply revolting to me myself. They should have hit you, but they missed :)
Your hands touch my foot so gently.... I wasn't sure if you would touch my foot and now
Your hands move to my wound and I get scared, I am about to scream, ...but I want you so much. I bite my lip to keep from crying out. Finally, your gentle fingers touch the edge of my wound and the long-awaited calm comes,... this feeling when we sit with you by a fallen tree... and the taste of an apple,.. mmmmmm, and then, when your hands touching my sprained ankle, I remember - you can cure... And my fallen basket, scattered berries,... something completely unimportant, not worth getting upset about.... But now I want you even closer. Please enter my wound... Yes, exactly like this...
You wonder if you can meet me here? Yes, you really can. And here you are in this strange corridor with many doors. You're looking for me with your intuition by opening all the doors in a row, you're looking for me to get me out of this maze. (All your assumptions and insights are true. Because you're my real adult!) And finally you hear a voice coming from behind the door. "I'm here!" This is the voice of your beloved little girl. You haven't lost her! She's really here, but the door is closed. This is a place of safety. Do you want her to be safe like that? Or do you have another world for her?
But the way out of there is growing up. This is an explosive opening of wounds. You realize this and you let out a groan.... No one will suspect a doctor of an erotic frenzy when he examines the wounds of a patient. Only the patient can feel this together with pain flashes from the touch of the most tender hands of a loving person. Believe me, I can feel all your desires in your moan. I know what my pain, which has become yours, gives you.
So your raised hands beg me to continue the test. I take off the key that hangs around my neck on a chain and open your handcuffs. I'm putting on your shirt. It's so nice to wear a man's shirt, while seeing how its former owner is denuded. :) "Now open your eyes. Look at me. You met a Forest Fairy."
"What's next, my doctor? Take a knife from the ground lying at your feet (now, I believe that you see it) and looking at me, expose me so much that it is convenient for you to operate. And open the door!"
(Don't be afraid of my lust. No one will know about it. You know, this is a secret between a doctor and a patient. I do not know what you will do with the trickles of blood, what will you do with my moans? What will this beauty and intimacy do to you? One thing is clear to me that then we will definitely have to wash in the pool :))))
2. My wounded Fairy, my beloved child...how can I express the tenderness I feel for you now? It rushes through me like a wave, nearly dropping me to my knees...but it lifts me up, and pulls me to you; I reach out, as the ocean longingly, adoringly, repeatedly reaches for the moon...
I understand the safety of closed doors and locked compartments quite well. It's true: you can conceal yourself there and, if you are very quiet, you can hide for many years; no one will find you, and so no one will wound you. Ah, but then, no one will know you, either...maybe, if you are lucky, you have a window there; you can gaze out at the world and wonder, when you tire of pacing from one corner to the next. Dear, I will be honest with you: growing up is indeed cold, often intolerably so, and the wounds are bitter; I can't tell you for certain that it's any better than this. In the end, it may be much worse. But don't you wonder what it would be like—to soar in another, one who adores you-?
I open my eyes, meet your gaze, and time stops; there is a measureless, silently-reverberating distance between this heartbeat, and the next one. Gradually, my senses re-emerge...and, recognizing my shirt, seeing how it transforms on you, I feel a pleasant, unusual intimacy already established between us (surely, this was part of your plan...) Slowly, I drop to one knee; I can feel the weight of your eyes on the bend of my back, my neck, the crown of my head (it looks as though I'm bowing before you) as, calmly, I grasp the knife (the weight fills my hand), and (again, slowly) stand, now fully upright (now, you see that I am taller).
I take one step towards you. We are facing one another now; again, our eyes lock. The air seems to vibrate with something like electricity, and before I realize it, my fingers are already tracing lines down the open collar of your (our) shirt...then, gently spreading it apart, just above the first button...as my thumb and forefingers deftly undo it, you feel one of my other fingers brush against your chest. I want to speak, to reassure you (are you trembling?) that you are safe with me, but I am afraid to break the spell...so, as my hands slide slowly down to the next button, I bend closer, bring my lips to the tip of your ear, and (like a whisper) kiss you softly.
What can you read in my eyes, dear? Do you understand? Now, I know the pain of your wounds...and we both know how the trust which grows from our mutual vulnerability is therapeutic for us. You asked me to operate...I undo the last button; your shirt hangs open, caricature of a wound, revealing your pale skin beneath. With my right index and middle finger, I now draw a caressing line along your jaw, across your throat...it pools, and then cascades over the knob of your collarbone; and, finally, slides down your exposed chest. I linger here a moment... I bring my eyes to yours once more, looking for some confirmation. I reach my hand behind your head, bring your brow to my lips, and softly kiss you there. Then, as I hold my eyes on yours, I turn the knife over, so that, with the dull edge facing you, it's only the tip that's sharp. And, starting just beneath your collarbone, I gently draw the blade's tip downwards across your skin.
When I finish, a pale line—barely visible—remains on your chest. No blood; you understand, I think, that this first time was just a test. For a long moment, we breathe together, perfectly in unison...
Now, once more, I press the tip of the knife against your flesh, at the top of my last stroke. This time, I apply just the slightest pressure (your skin dimples here, just a little bit, beneath it). Again, without breaking eye contact, I draw the knife downwards, following the same careful line. A moment passes—and then, two minute, glistening drops of blood, one just slightly greater than the other, appear in the middle of your chest, towards the end of the knife's path...
Another moment, a heartbeat, two; I am adrift on your eyes...finally, ardently, I press my mouth to your chest. You feel me softly sucking, feel the flicker of my tongue, as I drink you in. I wait there, patiently, until I am sure that the (almost imperceptible) bleeding has stopped. And then, gently, reluctantly, I let go...
Pressing the knife into your hand, I bring the blade to rest, casually, against my own bare chest (a move without implication, and open possibilities). And now, yes: what next?
1. When you open your eyes and their gaze meets mine, I understand that this simply cannot be. I understand that a therapy session cannot take place in conditions of such intimacy. It's forbidden, it's too real!!! But wait, maybe that eternity between the beats of your heart is the time it takes to settle all these questions about prohibition and decency, about the norms of behavior, about medical ethics. This is a question about the embodiment of our relationship, yes, it is such an important part of the preparation for the surgery.
I didn't tell you that tallness attracts me almost magically! Without knowing it, you mention it anyway. What are you trying to tell me? What do you know, how does it excite me to look up to you? Or maybe you're gently hinting to me that I can't escape from your gentle physical superiority? Anyway, I feel it all now.
How we both crave blood! I say "open the door" and your hand resolutely reaches out to my body to do it. But maybe your gentle touch of my ear with your lips is your hesitation? No. You're determined. A hesitant person cannot be a surgeon. A wavering person cannot have such huge eyes, accommodating the suffering of other people. Determination separates a person from sin to holiness. Yes, you are resolute, with your postponements you are slowly raising the degree of my excitement. You want my fear to be completely replaced by excitement, and I started begging you. And you see this plea in my body's reaction to your whispering kiss.
Your determination turns the tip of your beautiful nail into a knife and your touch cuts me causing agony in me. Your determination breaks down the door. And when it opens wide, it opens an abyss in front of you, which strikes you in the eyes with a bright light.
"Poor little red Riding Hood! Why did no one explain to her normally that it was forbidden to go into the forest alone at all!" (Anna Manna) Picking berries at the edge of the forest walking along the path lit by the sun she was so happy. But suddenly she heard the crunching of branches and heavy breathing right behind her. She realized that it was a wolf..... No. Let's leave Little Red Riding Hood. It wasn't her, but me - a skinny pale child in shorts and a T-shirt. I turned around and saw a man, he was like without a face, as they do in the news chronicle so as not to reveal his identity. He was standing over me, his pants were unbuttoned and lowered, and in his hand he was holding his p... performing masturbating movements, and he muttered "look, look." I've never seen anything more disgusting than this. I didn't want to look at it. I didn't understand why a child should look at this! (In what categories can an 8-year-old child even put this spectacle?!...) And I ran, children run fast, they are not afraid to fall, they do not notice scratches and bruises, of course a child can run away from an adult, and of course I easily run away, rushing without taking apart the road, because getting lost in this forest seems much more acceptable than returning to the world, to people, to relatives and friends, where everyone seems to know about my shame..... But why does he still grab my hand? Why couldn't I escape? Perhaps due to the fact that my clothes already fit my refined forms, my shoes have a thin heel. Because all these televisions with their stories of violence have been talking for me all this time, reminding me that I am a victim. A strong man's hand clamps over my mouth and the other climbs down, roughly squeezing my crotch. And the voice that said, "look," now threatens, "don't you dare shout."
...When I say that I do not know what you will do with the trickles of blood from my wound, in fact I know that you will cling to my chest with your mouth. I want you to drink my blood, I want you to cut me deeply and passionately. I am crazy in my fantasies, isn't it? I also want to cut you and hear your blissful cry. I wish I could run my bloody hand down your back as I embrace you in ecstasy... but there is no blood and no more knives, my wounds are gone. Tears flowing from my eyes and dripping on my chest, you pick up with your hot tongue. You drink my suffering and liberation passionately (but in an American restrained way :) )
My moans and sobs gradually subside. I hug you and suddenly, unexpectedly pricking myself on some not quite solid needle, I pull away from you and look at you questioningly. There's a pine twig in your hand. You're holding it in your hand with an overly serious expression on your face. This sight makes me smile. I say, "thank you for the flower"! And I take a twig from your hand. After that, I make a super sexy facial expression, (I smile as if to one side, not letting my lips part and slightly squint my eyes). "Don't you think we're kind of ambiguously close to each other, considering we just met?" And then finally catching your answering smile, I add, "if you want to remove this awkwardness, remember that we were going to jump into the pool from a rope ladder" :)))
2. My sweet, beautiful kid, I understand now...and see clearly how every scene, every interaction, everything we have been for one another thus far has brought us to this conversation. Dear, and yes, you are quite right: there is room enough in my enormous eyes, in my long, delicate arms, to contain all of your suffering, without doubt. I see that you really trust this. And knowing that you do, I am filled with such an...almost holy gratitude, for our meeting here. I am nearly prepared to believe—in secret architectures, in impossibly long and slowly-pulling threads, in hidden signs and symbols scattered over the earth, which have somehow delivered us to one another...
From the start, my clearest intuition has led me to feel the necessity of creating whatever you need to feel yourself safe, in both your guises. Now, I better understand why, to what ends...and also, the full weight of what it means to be your forest explorer, your protector. I don't need to tell you, I think, that as outwardly, I shelter you, inwardly, an extraordinary anguish for you rends my heart. I don't know if you notice how (with the same American discretion :)) a few of my own tears fall upon your chest, too, mingling with yours... dear child, how I want to just catch you up in my arms, and not let go! To make you completely mine, but only in the sense that liberates you...
Dear soul, there is a home we have made for you within my tenderness. Its territory is vast, I am keeping it safe for you, and it is yours—yours to keep. I want to thank you for it. What a gift, to absorb your pain, to heal your wounds, to embrace and adore you...so that you never had to feel alone, or unprotected, again.
...Ah, but there I am, with my (habitual, it seems) excessively serious expression! With a gentle laugh, I rub my eyes...and, yes, answer you with my warm smile. For a silent half-moment, I take in the transformed you, the radiant and close you...and then, reaching out, pull the rope ladder closer, bracing it with both hands, for you to climb. Now, I ask:
“What do you say—shall we leave this forest together?”
1. In the Russian language there is such an expression "analysis of flights" which means "debriefing". It is used in the theatrical environment in particular. Actors and directors discuss the past performance.... I think I should mention that our game was just amazing! I've got a huge psychological, aesthetic, erotic, literary and therapeutic pleasure. You followed all the layers of the game so competently. Yes, your long arms always know what shape to take to grab me in the most exciting way!...
Maybe it might have seemed to you that I planned the plot of my game and led you along it adamantly. But this is not the case at all. Everything turned out completely unexpected for me. Just my writing ability to work with elements gives such an effect of the assembled mosaic-puzzle. But you must admit, it is impossible to have predictability in a pair game. Our interaction was intuitively harmonious. You're talking about the signs that led us to each other, this can be traced in our game too. ....Well, my impression is briefly stated. Although if you want, I can go through individual moments, running through the entire game from the beginning and commenting on what I deem necessary.
Of course we can leave this forest together, it seems to me that there is nothing holding us here anymore. But we are not running away, we have nothing to run away from. This is our place, where we had a good time together. We are just moving towards the new. The next adventure will be a new game. ...Oh! We have climbed so high, if you look down, you can see only green-blue shades. To be honest, I don't know if there's a pool down there, and in fact, I don't care. And I'm not hesitating about jumping. I want to feel the flight (I know that I can't fall if I jump there with you). Mmmmm, what a refreshing wind! It refreshes not only my body and makes my shirt flutter, it also gives me a feeling of rapid flight, which I have never experienced in my life. I look at you, you are moving a couple of steps below me, gently securing me with your body. Your hair is blowing in the wind, you feel my gaze and lift your head a bit to meet my eyes. Your eyes are slightly narrowed. I do not know what you are thinking, I have long lost this division into "your" and "my" thoughts. And I am sure that both of us without a single word will simultaneously let go of our hands and jump down.