Catharsis (unfinished)

Part 1

I walk through the fog, dense and reeking of filth. My feet move slowly, shifting across the uneven surface, kicking up dirt and dust. I feel as if I have a destination, but I can’t see it, nor do I know what it is. But, I know I must get there. I am coming from someplace unclean, someplace…constricting, choking. Like a full-body noose.

I stop at the gaping mouth of a forest, the trees warped and leafless. The fog lifts slightly, though only enough to see a few meters forward. I stand still, unable to move. I know I can go back, but if I do, would I be able to leave again? The fear and doubt comes forward; a specter, white-skinned and hairless, its ears pointed and its eyes bulging. At first it has a look of pain in its face, then a demonic grin begins to form as it spies me through the mist. Its teeth look yellowed and vampiric, like cloves of garlic and no doubt smelling twice as bad. It moves towards me, creeping and grinning, its only garb weathered leather cloaks billowing in a wind that’s not the wind. I can’t move. I want to move forward, but I’m too scared; I’m so scared I want to just turn and run, but the thought of returning empty-handed scares me just as much. Thus, I am paralyzed with fear and doubt, unable to move. This Thing, this embodiment of fear, it gets closer, close enough to touch. It speaks to me: “You are not capable of this task. Turn back now, and maybe your shame will be light.” “What are you?” I ask, though I already know. “I am Fear. I am Doubt. I am that which roots you to the ground as we speak.”

“What is your name?” I ask.
“I have many names.” The Thing replies.
“Choose one, so that I may address you properly.”
“Why don’t you choose one for me?”
I think. “Very well. You can be Snuffles.”
The Thing scowls. “Snuffles!? That’s a stupid name!”
“You said to pick one,” I replied.

Snuffles scowls again. He circles me, and I remain still, my feigned composure becoming more authentic. Clearly it is rattled; its power over me diminishes. “You think you are ready?” it asks. “Does anyone know with certainty when they are ready?” I reply. “Are you afraid?” it says, his breath thick with sorghum and nicotine. I resist the urge to gag and say, “Of course I am, but why should that stop me?” “Because it’s FEAR!” Snuffles exclaims, its voice rasping. “Fear cripples people into stagnation, makes them hide in their safe, warm cocoons, unable to comprehend life outside.” I realize that he is right; even now, the urge to go back is strong. I want to leave, to escape this unfamiliar place and return home. “No,” I say, with all the determination and courage I can muster. I step forward, and I enter the forest…

Part 2

The wood is dark, yet simultaneously light; the fog that seems to seep up from the ground also obscures the sky, yet the area around me is clear enough to see several meters in all directions, except behind me, down the way I came. I can’t see Snuffles, but I know he’s there, lurking in the shadows, following me, waiting for his moment to speak and undermine me. I know he feels like the opportunity will come soon, because he knows that I know. My steps are slow and deliberate, more out of trepidation than caution. The forest is like a swamp in winter, cold and sticky at the same time. I continue forward. Despite every nerve in my body screaming to run back the other way, I continue forward.

As I walk I notice the trees: brownish-grey, the color of mud and stagnant water. They continue to reek of the things I left behind in the old world: the concrete and dirt, the piss, smoke and shit. Suddenly I am aware of a new smell, not foul like the others but sweet, like lavender and jasmine perfume. The trees around me start growing flowers; a few scattered deep reds at first, then some pinks and whites, becoming more and more prevalent. The sweet smell of perfume is getting stronger as I move, and I begin to increase my speed. Snuffles is having trouble keeping up; something holds him back.

Soon I arrive to a small clearing; in the center is a marble throne, surrounded by four marble pedestals. The pedestals themselves are wrapped in vines, and there is nothing on them save dead leaves and dust. Sitting on the throne is a woman.

The first thing I see is her dress: long, white and flowing, low-cut at the neckline and with thin shoulder straps, exposing her arms. Her hair is long and black, and it shimmers like starlight; her eyes, cold but intriguing. And her lips, bright pink and slightly parted to reveal teeth as white as the summer sun. With one finger she gestures me closer. I walk, but I don’t remember walking; more that I am pulled towards her.

“Who are you?” I ask.
“I am that which you seek,” she replies. Her voice is like honey to my ears. I feel my breath becoming shallow, my heartbeat growing faster.
My own voice comes out like a croak, “Do you have a name?”
“You may call me Amor, if you like.”
I can feel my heart melting at the sound of her name. “Amor…”
She giggles, a coy smile spreads across her face and she covers it with her hand. “You said you are what I’ve been seeking,” I blurt out, “since you’re here now, does this mean I’ve found you already?” “No,” she replies, “while you see me here now, your journey has only just begun. You are not yet ready to have me; I will be waiting for you when you are.”

My heart sinks, and my shoulders slump. Her words feel like cold knives running through me. I look down, staring at my feet, trying to hide my embarrassment. But Amor is kind; she gently lays a hand on my cheek, its warmth and softness flowing through my body like warm water. I take in as much about her as I can: the shine of her hair, the way it flows and falls around me like silk; the smell of her skin, a sweet smell I have never found equal to. My heart is beating hard and fast, it feels like it might explode from my chest. She smiles. “Be calm, my love,” she says. “The path is arduous, and there are many dangers ahead: creatures from the deepest dark, temptresses who will try to dissuade you, and there are yet more challenges you must face within yourself. Let me give you something to help you on your journey, to remind you of the path you’ve chosen. Close your eyes.” I close my eyes, and I feel her hands and forearms brush against my neck. I open my eyes to find a thin chain around my neck; hanging from the end is a stone pendant, circular, with ornate carvings on one side while being smooth and flat on the other. The carvings are of two people: the first is a woman decked out in jewels, with multiple arms; the other, an old man carrying a staff. “These will be your guides through this forest,” says Amor. “Should you need their help, just ask.” As she speaks, her body appears to be floating away into the sky like a cloud. “Oh, and one more thing,” she says suddenly, “watch out for my sister Eros.”

Eros? I think. Where have I heard that name before?

Part 3

Snuffles keeps a respectable distance, weaving his way around through the trees, always keeping his eyes on me and occasionally snarling. He is trying to get a rise out of me, to make me jumpy. It’s not really working. I’m still thinking about that woman who has captured my heart; I can’t stop myself. I see now that she is my goal, my future. My destiny. I have to find her, and no amount of fear will change that. Until it does.

I feel as if I’ve passed the same tree several times already, and I have nothing with which to mark it, and it’s getting dark, and cold. So very cold. I feel myself shiver, and realize it’s Snuffles, sidling up close to me. “I know you feel it, young man,” he hisses, “You feel that fear. Fear of being stuck out here, with nothing but the shirt on your back. You should turn back; return to the safety of your old life. I can take you back instantly; just say the word.” My instincts tell me to take him up on his offer. “No,” I tell him, mustering up what indignation I can as I shiver in the cold, “I’ve c-come too f-far.” “Oh, come now,” he replies, “You know as well as I do that you’re afraid right now. Afraid of what lurks in the dark recesses of this forest, the things you don’t know and can’t see. Well, I know of them, and I can see them, because I am one of them. They are hairy things, disgusting creatures with fangs and claws. They breathe deep, their mouths filled with the smell of death. Their teeth will chew you up like bubble gum. And I know what they do first: they come in the dark, and the silence, waiting for you just as your mind wanders as you try to sleep. Yes, I know about you at night, how you cover yourself from head to toe with your blanket, leaving one eye exposed to the darkness, thinking seeing it coming will save you any more than the blanket will protect you. Your pulse jumps, and your mind races. You squeeze your eyes shut to fall asleep, but it doesn’t work. Just give in; let me take you home.”

I feel my strength leaving me, Snuffles’ words wounding me deeply. I walk quickly to a nearby tree and crouch beneath its branches, clutching myself tightly to get warm. Snuffles is still talking; I do my best to tune him out. I feel my resolve dwindling, my fear growing stronger. Snuffles is getting bigger; he’s feeding off of my fear and insecurity. Soon he’ll be too big to control. Suddenly, I feel a hard weight on my chest. My eyes shoot open and I remember: the amulet! I pull it out of my shirt and look at it. I focus on the image of the old man, concentrate as hard as I can, even with Snuffles whispering in my ears. That’s when I notice the light.
It’s soft at first, as if my eyes are playing tricks on me, but then I see that it’s a distant candlelight. I begin walking towards it, slowly at first, then moving faster but careful not to trip on roots. Snuffles is now back to his original size, and struggling to keep up. He’s tripping over things, his hand outstretched. He wants to stop me; he knows what’s out there, just beyond the fog. I can see that light much more clearly now, the fog lifting around it. Finally I reach the edge of a swamp; surrounded by a field of rocks is a gazebo, its wooden frame a deep brown, warped and rotted on the outside, but somehow polished and new on the inside. I can see a fire burning in a hearth, and a variety of soft couches in earthy colors. I step up to it slowly, using the rocks as stepping stones. Snuffles doesn’t cross with me; instead, he snarls at me from the swamp bank. I reach the steps of the gazebo, the wood creaking and groaning beneath my steps.

It’s warm in the gazebo, as if the whole space is actually indoors. There’s soft music being piped in, but I can’t see from where. There’s a table off to one side; I can see a plate of food on it. In front of the fireplace there’s a large Go board on the floor, and two wooden bowls on top of it. “Good,” says a voice, “You’ve arrived. Come, sit down.” At first I don’t see him, then my eyes adjust. He is old, the majority of his head hairless with darkened skin. What hair he has is white, lining the sides of his head and draping down the front in a long beard. He sits on a tall cushion, a long wooden pipe in his mouth. He seems very familiar; at first I think it’s because he looks like the old man in the amulet, but that can’t be it. I fee like I know him from somewhere else.

The old man gestures to a small cushion opposite his own, with the Go board between us. I notice there’s a smaller table closer to the fire; on it is a metal teapot, and two cups. I reach for the pot, then stop myself, trepidation no doubt written on my face. The old man looks at me and smiles, “It’s alright, young man. Help yourself.” My reluctance fades, and I grab for the pot. It’s hot; my hand hurts from holding it, but I don’t let go. First I pour a cup for my host, then one for myself, before calmly setting the pot down again. I stop to smell the tea: it’s sweet, but the sweetness is very subtle, not like anything with actual sugar in it. There’s definitely the bitterness of strong tea as well, though it’s not overpowering. Rather, the bitterness and sweetness intermingle nicely. The warmth of the tea flows through me, a wonderful elixir that revives my body and spirit. Tension I didn’t know I had leaves me, and I relax into the cushion. “You are on a great journey, you know,” the old man says after a minute, “It is a journey that all of us must face, but not all of us can succeed.” “Who are you?” I ask. The old man replies, “You may call me Teacher.”

Part 4

“I am here to help you, young man,” the Teacher says. “You can help me find Amor?” I ask, blatantly aware of the excitement in my voice. He raises a hand: “Calm down,” he says, “One must not rush these things. Amor is waiting for you, but she is very patient.” Feeling put off, I reach for another cup of tea, then slump back into the chair. Teacher looks at me and says, “The most important thing right now is that you have someplace to rest for now. Once the morning comes, you’re on your own.” I look up, confused. “What do you mean, on my own? As long as I have this – “I show him the amulet Amor gave me “– I can call you anytime I need help, can’t I?” The Teacher smiles, “While you can call on me for help, I can only help you so far; there is much to do on the path you’ve chosen that you must do yourself. I can show you the way, or offer advice, but in the end it is you who must make the journey. Now, come,” he gestures to the Go board, “Let’s play a round or two, then you can rest.”

After only 2 rounds of play, I start to doze off. Teacher points me to a bed that I’m sure wasn’t there before: it has thick, soft pillows, and a blanket resembling so many fur pelts, though I’m positive they’re just made to look like that. As I curl up under the covers, Teacher comes and sits by the bedside, placing a glass beside me. “Teacher?” I ask. “Yes?” “You said I’m on my own in this journey, so why are you sheltering me now?” Teacher takes a long, deep breath, then lets it out slowly and carefully, then he says, “When you entered this place, this forest shrouded in mist and darkness, you came with nothing but your own fears and doubts. He is standing on the bank of the swamp, still.” He gestures to a random point; I follow his gaze and see Snuffles, standing on the edge, staring with what could have been more malicious if he didn’t look so weakened. That’s when I see them, almost orbiting around him. Eyes. So many glowing eyes. My heartbeat speeds up; there’s nothing separating us from them. Snuffles begins to grin, devilish and devoid of feeling. “Don’t worry,” my Teacher says, waving his hand dismissively. Walls suddenly form around the gazebo, with small curtain-covered windows spread evenly. “They can’t enter here; this is a safe space. As I was saying, you came in here with nothing; just this once, I can offer you shelter, but tomorrow you will be on your way. Before you continue, I shall prepare you for the nights in this forest. After that, I can appear before you to offer advice, nothing more.” My head is filled with questions, but my eyes refuse to stay open. Before I know it, I’ve already fallen asleep.

…Amor…

It’s dark, but there’s a doorway. Light is peeking through the bottom. I move closer, but my body is moving slowly, sluggishly, like swimming in jelly. Rather than struggle against it, I let my body go limp and my muscles relax. The way becomes easier, and I finally reach the door. I turn the handle, and the door opens.

The field is bright yellow, almost golden in the evening sunlight. Off in the distance there’s a giant tree, its canopy covering a wide area. I walk towards it, and see a chair. It’s an old red velvet chair, the kind you would see in the parlor of an old aristocrat. In front of it, there’s an identical chair. From behind I can see a hand: pale and slender, decked out in a stone bracelet that sparkles in the sunlight. ‘Amor,’ I think to myself. I rush to the chair, my anticipation growing. But when I get there, I realize it’s not her: it’s someone else. Someone equally familiar, yet at the same time a stranger.

“Hello, there,” she says in a deep, silky voice. She gestures to the empty seat, and I sit facing her. It’s then that I take stock of the speaker: she’s pretty, but not beautiful. Her face isn’t very attractive, but the rest of her is something out of a fantasy world. Her body is incredibly voluptuous, with enormous breasts that are almost impossible in their size. She wears a low-cut, strapless dress, exposing almost the entire top half of them, revealing a cavernous amount of cleavage. The slit of her dress is high, revealing equally amazing legs and thighs. My legs go weak, and I can feel my pulse racing. “Who are you?” I ask, my voice cracking. “You can call me Eros, dear boy,” she replies seductively, “and I’m here to help you.”

“Help me with what?”
“Why, your stress, of course. That’s why you’re out here, isn’t it? Although you’re going about it in a roundabout sort of way.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You’re going so far out of your way to find my sister Amor, but it’s a long, hard journey,” she replies, putting a very sultry spin on the words ‘long’ and ‘hard’. I can’t take my eyes off of her lips, red and plump like juicy cherries. Suddenly she is becoming more attractive, though I can’t understand how or why. “You’re doing so much for someone who you may never even find, and for what? Some purpose you don’t fully understand? All you really need is a release of your stress, and for that, all you really need is me.” She pushes her arms in, making her chest bulge upward. “I can tell, you like what you see. Come over here, and let me take care of you.” I realize my penis is hard, so hard it pushes at the zipper of my pants, hurting me. I swallow a lump in my throat, and move closer. As I sit in the adjacent chair, Eros gets up, her bosom bobbing pendulously. Slowly she lowers her top, gently peeling it off, revealing more and more of her enormous breasts. I look down at myself and realize my pants are gone; when did I take them off? My manhood is stiff, the occasional pulse of blood pumping through to keep it erect. Suddenly Eros drops down to her knees, those breasts mere centimeters from my lap. Gently she pushes her nipples against the tip of my cock, and I feel a jolt of something akin to lightning from that spot throughout my body. “Do you like my giant tits?” she asks. “Your cock seems to like them. Here, let me do something to bring it down.”

Her breasts begin to envelop and smother my entire lap; my manhood becomes buried in her cleavage, and it feels as if it’s wrapped tightly in warm pillows all around. It feels amazingly good, especially when she starts moving her tits slowly up and down, the friction adding to the pleasure. I lean back in the chair. “That’s it, baby,” she says, “Let me stroke your cock off between my breasts; let me help you relax. I’ll always be there to help you release that pressure.” I can feel myself getting closer to orgasm, the excitement growing. “Come on, baby. I want to feel you cum between my boobs; blow that huge load of spooge all over my cleavage. You can do it; just let it go.” I feel my body tighten, then convulse; suddenly it feels like my penis is erupting, as a thick white jet explodes from between her mountainous cleavage. I continue to release volley after volley, the sperm covering and pooling on her breasts, at an angle that I can see easily. My orgasm finally subsides, and I collapse into the chair, my cock and balls sore from the exertion.

Eros stands up, semen dripping from her under-cleavage. “Now, didn’t that feel good?” I nod, lacking the energy to speak. “Good. Whenever you feel alone, you can just call me and I’ll make it all better. You don’t need my sister for that; I’m much less work.” The mention of Amor sends a flash of memory through my brain; suddenly I’m wracked with feelings of guilt, like I’ve committed an inexcusable betrayal. Eros looks at me and puts a hand on my cheek, her eyes full of kindness and understanding, yet her wry smile makes the whole scene seem grotesque. “Hey,” she says, “it’s okay. You don’t need to feel bad. It’s not like you’ve really done anything bad; I’m only here to help, after all.”

Eros sits back down, and gives me a hard stare. After a moment’s pause she insists, “I only want what’s best for you; I don’t have any needs other than to be needed. It’s why I exist: to be the true satisfaction of men who are lonely and need comfort.” A realization hits me: “You work with Snuffles, don’t you?” I ask, a sudden sense of indignation in my voice. “Not directly,” she replies, “but where he paralyzes people with fear and stagnates them, I give them comfort that keeps them in that place. Kind of like a ‘good cop, bad cop’ thing.” I stand up, find my pants, and walk away. Anyone in league with Snuffles is not someone I want to be around, at all. I think that she is following me, but she’s still sitting down, looking at me with a look that says ‘You’ll be back; no matter how far down the road you go, I’ll always be around to make you feel good.” I continue through the field, eventually returning to the door I came in from. I open it, and light starts to pour out…

Part 5