Jaanu’s Reentry
There are times when a machete is necessary.
Frantically, we searched the house for her as the plunging sun smothered the skyline’s mountains, enraging their zeniths with ruby thunderclouds. As the breeze picked up, a servant in the garden cried out.
She was standing motionless beneath the silent Pongame oil tree. In the encroaching darkness, the giant’s glossy leaves and lilac-coloured blossoms were indistinguishable from the grey of all the other shadows except for one.
I shouted for the machete to be brought and ran heedlessly across the lawn, clumsily clasping the silver necklace my ashen-faced wife had slipped around my neck.
The lithe figure of an unclothed youth was black as the deadest night, yet its arousal and extended hand caressing our daughter’s breast was unmistakable against the backcloth of nature’s twilight.
The Faceless Jaanu had returned.
The above texts were first published on Twitter and are © 2023 by David Pahor.
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