Sword of Imagination

 

I was very excited that day. My mood coincided with several pleasant and exciting events. The first was an answer in physics class. I'd barely studied at home, so when the professor asked me to answer, I was quite scared. My adrenaline spiked, which affected my thinking speed... And imagine, somehow I got an A minus... The second event that affected my mood that day was reconciling with a friend with whom I'd recently had a heated argument. Actually, it wasn't even about anything specific. It was more about generalities. But never mind, I don't want to dwell on the past; that's why we reconciled, so that everything could go back to the way it was. And forget about that argument... But there was also a third event. As I was walking up to the third floor of the school, under the geography classroom, a piece of paper hanging on the wall caught my eye. At our school, the walls are always full of all sorts of announcements, posters, etc. Surprisingly, I usually even read them, although not always. Now, however, I had nothing to do until the end of my break, so I stopped and read those few lines. It said a new group had been formed – a group of role-playing game enthusiasts. I'd been fascinated by these games for a long time, so I was very, very happy to read this information. I also learned that these meetings would be held on Fridays from 2:25 to 4:00 PM in room 75. It happened to be Friday. Did I have anything to lose? No, but I had a lot to gain. I could have had a really good time. And I really like to make the miserable moments I spend on this earthly plane enjoyable.

Unfortunately, however, my classes ended an hour early and I had to sit in the reading room for forty-five minutes. Not that I minded, but I happened to choose the wrong book, and out of boredom, I started focusing my attention on the people who were also doing something there. I saw a boy trying to hang drawings on the wall depicting the contrast between heaven and hell. Some of them were truly valuable, making my heart skip a beat. When I looked at them (there were two of them, to be exact), I wanted to believe. Unfortunately, I'm not a religious person, and the moment my attention was absorbed by the girl sitting next to me, I stopped thinking about the beautiful paintings. The girl was busy reading something. I thought maybe she had a better idea. Well, unless she was reading... At one point, she lifted the book for a moment so I could see its title. It was "Sword of Imagination." Unfortunately, I didn't see the author's name. But it reminded me of Sapkowski's Witcher series of novels. There was a sentence in it that has really stuck with me. I might be getting it wrong, but it went something like this: "A sword has two ends – one is you." Ever since I read that, the sword as an object has always reminded me of that sentence. I wonder why...

The minutes flew by, and soon the next lesson was upon us. With undisguised pleasure, I left the reading room and headed towards the appropriate classroom. When I reached the door, I hesitated. But it was so brief that anyone passing by likely wouldn't have noticed. I knocked and pushed the door open. There were three boys in the room, none of whom I recognized.

"Hi, I..." I wanted to say, "School group, am I in the right place?" but was thankfully interrupted.

"School group? I hope so, we could use a pretty girl like that on the team," one of the boys said with a smile. He had raven-black hair and glasses that perfectly accentuated his intelligence. I liked him.

"What if I play a goblin? Or a troll lady?" I asked sarcastically. They laughed, which gave me some relief. I walked in, pulled up a chair next to them, and we were in a beautiful circle, ready for the game. Immediately afterward, I had to choose the character I would play. This time, I didn't hesitate for a moment. I'd always wanted to be a little, long-haired blonde with a sweet face and a huge sword to boot... The image of such a character in my imagination seemed so comical that I simply couldn't resist. A sweet little girl slaying trolls three times her size—even philosophers couldn't have dreamed of that...

We played for two hours. The most interesting moment in the game, for me, was a face-to-face encounter with a tall, handsome man with long, white hair tied in a ponytail and alluring gray eyes. Men, of course, imagined him differently. And certainly not in an alluring or sensual way. In my imagination, however, he remained a man who stirred all my senses and desires. And when he drew his sword and held it to my throat, I didn't want to run away or even kill him. I wanted to make love to him. To have passionate, delicious sex. So what if I was just a teenager? It was a game, I was its heroine, and I completely immersed myself in its world. And there was no school in it. Instead, there was a white-haired man with an icy sword blade pressed against my carotid artery. My heart wasn't beating, but it was pounding. He was there, standing right in front of me, his hand outstretched, holding his sharp weapon. And I wanted his body, all of him. I wanted to hug him, I wanted him to kiss me. Damn, I just wanted to fuck him... These thoughts surprised me no more than they did you. I'd never felt anything like this before. Not with a real man, but with someone created by my sick imagination? No, that wasn't it. This was about something else, something else entirely. We heard approaching footsteps, and the man of my dreams left. Before he disappeared, however, he turned and said:

"I'll come back to you, and then we'll finish," he said in a way that sent shivers down my spine. The boys probably thought I was scared, but no, I was simply waiting to see him again. Unfortunately, the session ended too soon. I didn't get to see him again.

I returned home lost in thought. I wanted to see him before me again. So what if he was just a figment of my imagination? I wanted to see him. I craved him. I quickened my pace. I wanted to be back in my own apartment as quickly as possible. I was fed up with people rushing through the streets. When I got off the crowded bus, I felt a terrible, damned sense of relief, and when I unlocked the gate, which I immediately kicked open, I felt more aroused than ever before. I had a plan. After all, no one could control my imagination... When I entered my room, I immediately threw my backpack on the couch and collapsed onto the American bus. My parents were gone. As usual, they were supposed to be back late in the evening, around eight or nine. Not that they came back like this every day, but that's how it was on Fridays. So I had to take care of dinner myself. I made spaghetti. It turned out quite well; I didn't even overcook the pasta, which unfortunately is usually the case for me. I set the table differently than usual. I draped a red tablecloth over it and set it for two. I placed the bowl of spaghetti in the center, added two more candles, lit them, and turned off the light. I took a seat at the table.

And then he appeared on the second. He smiled. Then he behaved like a true gentleman. He served me spaghetti first, poured glasses of wine (I found some in my parents' bar, and since they had a lot, I figured they shouldn't have noticed), and then we began our celebratory meal. He spoke little, very quietly. Only that slight, sarcastic smile at the corner of his mouth never left his face. His eyes sparkled. I desired him more and more. When we finished eating, he rose from the table, approached me, and extended his hand. I took it, and he led me to my room. With the lights out, it was already quite dark despite the early hour. I began to appreciate the fact that it was winter. So what if it had only bothered me before when now, at such an important moment, it was creating a wonderful atmosphere? We stopped by my bed. It was made, as if prepared especially for this moment. He put his arm around my waist. He leaned down to my face and kissed the corner of my mouth. And within moments, we were locked in a tight embrace, kissing passionately. I wrapped my leg around him as he kissed my neck. I tilted my head back as he caressed my cleavage with his lips. I didn't try to calm down as he unbuttoned my shirt. A moment later, my black, red-checked shirt fell to the floor in absolute silence. It brushed against our legs. After a moment, the feeling of him resting against my ankle vanished. He probably just kicked it. He removed my bra in one confident movement right after he unbuttoned it. One hand was still holding my waist while the other touched my breast. He played with my mole, which had cleverly settled there. I snuggled closer to him, lifting my head. I began licking behind his ear, gradually moving down to his neck. I busied myself with removing his clothes while he held my buttocks, which were still hidden behind the cover of his jeans. I tossed his shirt aside and surrendered completely to his pants. They had a strange zipper that I had to struggle to open. He was much quicker to remove my lower half. A moment later, we were standing naked in front of my bed, cuddled up together. We slowly sank onto the clean sheets. I kept inhaling the scent of his cologne. We made passionate love. For a moment, I wondered if I'd really lost my virginity. But he was there. I felt his kisses, touched his face, heard his heartbeat. Without understanding, I surrendered to the pleasure he brought. Finally, I fell asleep in his arms. I dreamed I woke up the next day and he was gone. I burst into tears, and that's when I opened my eyes and saw my own room. I looked around. I couldn't see him anywhere, not even a single one of his socks (did he even have any? No, I don't think he did...). But then I realized I could still smell his cologne! No,It couldn't be real, he had to be here! I glanced at the clock. It was a quarter to eight. My parents would be back any minute. I threw back the covers and swung my feet to the ground. I put on a shirt (my clothes were indeed strewn across the room) and went out to the kitchen. I wanted to clean up after dinner (especially the sight of the unfinished wine might have a negative impact on my parents), but then I saw something that made my heart start racing again. He was standing there. Standing at the clean table, smiling at me. And then he raised his hand so I could see the blade of his sword pointing at me.

"Remember what I said? That I'd be back, and then we'd finish..." he said with that venomous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He took a step forward.

I smiled. It was just my imagination.

"Did you dislike it that much?" I asked, but I detected a hint of panic in my voice! I was no longer in control of my own mind!

"No, it was wonderful, but you see... I always finish what I start..."

Another step toward me. I felt the blade of his sword. It might even have fogged up from my breath. I was afraid, truly afraid.

"Goodbye."

And that was the last word he said to me. Then all I saw was the movement of his hand, so slight, yet so important to me...