#I seriously am a notably heavy sleeper

[the-four-hoursemen]

Interesting info; I am an extraordinarily heavy sleeper

some would say I sleep like the dead

_Death

[monkey-network]

Moonsummer: Prologue

Have you ever gone to such passionate ends for something eternally dispassionate to your problems? All the chaos, the hurdles, for something you’re never certain is real and doesn’t care to know you exist? Why must this be the most favorable punchline to the most cosmically despicable joke imaginable?

A sundial has been erected in the village square for over ninety-nine years. We only know this because of me, one of the few that bothers to keep track of how long it’s been and can somehow answer simply when asked. Not even the headman, who doesn’t look an increment over twenty despite being over sixty, ever cares to remember and sometimes asks me about it’s age whenever I go to visit him. I have to walk by it every morning, evening, and occasional afternoon and over time, I feel like it mocks me. It gets to stand there, useless to no one because no one else notably acknowledges it, perfect as it appears. The hardest stone, with gypsum fragments peppered in its base, smooth slate with barely a chip fallen from its circumferential edge nor of its gnomon. It looks so perfect, so flawlessly antique it almost sickens me that every time I walk out, nary a soul goes up to it to utilize it’s crafted purpose. [sigh] At the same time, who am I to quibble? What does this sundial do that I haven’t done for myself after over fifteen years?

I notably asked myself this as I luckily woke up today, dawn seductively making her way up to my consciousness once more. About as awake as a milligram of yeast is getting its heat, I steadily peer onto the floor boards over the edge of my bed. I was grateful enough to see the beam hit the 7th chalk line so I definitely could get ready easier than most of last week. I scanned the floor for any insects, content to only find a mere pillbug near a dust mite. 

Then came the best part of the minute as I rolled over to see that she was still in bed, back facing me. A two by three foot slab of visible bronze skin, glistening from the oil I helped apply last night. I steadily inched my hand up to her left shoulder, with a tear creeping out as I felt the multiple scars that told me of the rapiers responsible for these. This adult back was an artistic yet historical horror, malicious marks that no one could bless away no matter the remedy because, personally, they tell a story I’ve yet to hear. They’ve constantly reminded me of how gutless yet scared I am to just whisper her the question, regardless of how open we’ve been after so long,

“Who are you really, Cassius?”

I pulled my hand back, thankfully she didn’t notice. I rolled back to shift a leg out the sheets, to stop quickly after feeling a damp, goopy cloth on the ball of my exposed foot. I was the right amount of tired to only take a deep breath in muffled revulsion as I immediately recognized the piece of fabric… that was used… to pleasure… my girlfriend.

After cleaning “that” off, I tiptoed into the kitchen to see the grain was in the pot ready to boil. I turned on the heat in the midst of getting the brown sugar and some berries from the bag on the other counter. A couple minute wait goes by, and I hear a familiar creak from the bedroom. Awaken, she has. I turn to see she’s fast as ever to appear before the door, leaning confidently on the frame as it appears she woke up in a snap and is ready to seize. The darkest crimson of her long hair being the first thing I see to ignore the fact that she’s still nude.

“A morning of morns, love,” she yawned out like a grizzly, “bubbling the grain?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to hide my smile, “something simple for today since we’re gonna be low on vittles for a couple days.”

“Pssh, you say that as if we get much else,” noting with a cheeky scoff, “Then again, this evening I’m certain me and the boys are netting some good ones. Boss said he’ll provide a catch just for me~~.”

“Sure, you should catch those clothes outside before somebody takes them like before.”

“Shit, you’re right! Gimme a sec.”

Cass went into the bathroom which leads to our clothesline outback. I began stirring the grain, taking in its charming warmth. Makes me grateful again that my “family” was as charitous to leave me enough for this old house. Still have regrets, but like this… well aged meal, I should be appreciative that things turned out well. Cass came back in, clothes tucked in her arm, and is still in the nude.

“Aren’t you cold? You gonna p-”

“Nope and nope right now,” she chipperly responded, “I’m in a pretty good mood after last night.”

“I figured with the evidence I stepped in this morning.”

“I thought you were gonna wash it before bed.”

“You said you would since I got to finish.”

“C’mon, you kne~ew I’m a heavy sleeper ‘specially after sex so this time it w-”

Before she could finish, I turned off the heat to slowly look towards here with a smile she knows can chip her confidence, if only for a second. She huffed, instantly lost the argument the moment our eyes squarely locked. 

“Damn it... M’kay, I’ll make up for your squeeshy morning,” she slumped her way over to my shoulder with a cornered smirk, “only cause you bewitched me again and since you’re cooking this time.” 

Cass slid her arm around my left side, now doing her typical cheek to cheek begging method, “Can I at least stay nude for just a little while longer?”

“Sure,” I said relievedly as we pecked lips real quick, “but clean your bowl before dressing.”

She plopped her clothes on her chair as I gave her the steamy breakfast and put the washed berries in the center of the table. She waited for me to sit down before digging in. She really was in a good mood, she’s always respectful to me but not as patient and awake as this morning. As we started talking about the happenings of the village and her job buddies, I wondered if there was more than the potential “good catch” this evening that had her in such spirit. I’m probably overthinking it, but I don’t know if last night was better than some of the others. It’s never like Cass is hiding something beside her past, but that has never been something I felt could be brought up and not feel too wrong for pressing. Again, it could be just me, but something about Cass’s spirit this morning made me feel different. Different, in a good way. 

After eating, we cleaned our bowls. I went back into the bedroom to see the sunlight reaching the 2nd chalk line which means I was on schedule. I got dressed but I decided to not wear my vest today. Not sure why, but I just tucked my tie into my shirt since I didn’t have a clip. I walked back in to see Cass on the hay couch having her jumpsuit on but not fully zipped, still with no top on as she threw her hair back, revealing more of her rosy nipples before facing towards the kitchen.

“Got time to do my hair?” she requested over the shoulder, back once more facing me.

“Of course,” I said calmly, feeling at ease that the morning was running as smoothly as it was.

Sat down to methodically comb these dark red locks as she stared at the front door, I kept pace with braiding her mohawk just how she likes it. Firm up top but not tight all the way down. After a couple minutes, as I was nearing the end of the braid I noticed the scars again. I slowed down for a moment, intrusively imagining countless brutal events in a flash before recollecting myself to finish. I was thankful she didn’t notice the pause. She took a sec to appreciate the work before bouncing to do my hair. I faced the bedroom doorway as I felt those admittedly big hands of hers caress my hair gently before combing it out. I wanna say this is what I’ve come to love about her. A woman bigger than me, far stronger than I could ever do for myself, the body of someone that I can’t help but say was tormented, and she enjoys treating me with genuine grace. I know we helped each other out long ago but, deep down, I feel like she’s too nice to me after all this time. I’m not sure, I don’t know what’s happening with me this morning. I know I love Cassius, she loves me back wholeheartedly, so why does it feel like something’s out of place? Nothing is wrong, but something feels incomplete.

“All good,” Cass says, patting me playfully.

I shake my head, not only to feel the braiding but to wake from the daze.

“Thanks, hon’,” I said putting the braid over my shoulder.

I grab my satchel and Cass grabs her tackle box after finally putting her top on and zipping up her jumpsuit. We put our shoes on and headed out the door. Walking outside, I took in the fresh, cool air of the morning and for the first time in a long while, it felt like things were gonna go my way somehow. 

Cass closed the door and whispered, “I know, right? Sex can make for a breath-taking morning.”

“Shut up,” I flusteredly giggled with a playful jab to the arm, “I’ll see you later.”

“Sorry sorry, see you tonight, Aussie.”

We shared one more kiss before she jogged off, waving goodbye as I waved back genuinely. 

“See you… Cass,” I whimpered in awe.

I slowly let my arm down, standing in the same spot for longing than desired. I peered passionately at my girlfriend until she was the size of my pinky finger, then I started to walk to my job staring coldly at the ground.

The dirt felt right, damp but not muddy. The breeze felt complimentary to the gradual warmth of the sun, especially on my neck. I honestly couldn’t feel my steps as I went along, like I was just floating along as I felt empty. Not empty in a negative sense, but hardly any other thought I had stayed for more than a second. What came over me? Was I late? No, I kept track; I know I can’t be late? Was I malnourished? No, that breakfast still feels filling to me; ate two whole bowls of grain. Was it... love? More than before when I haven’t felt any different about her? I love her, I know I do, but what is convincing me otherwise? Not otherwise, but variably? Seriously, what other feelings could I have for that beautiful and outgoing and strong and polite an- OOMPH!

My mind played a gag as I somehow walked right into the square’s sundial, stumbling from the pain in the stomach before falling over onto the ground. I writhed for a bit before looking to see the sharp triangular tip of the gnomon spark for a moment. I instantly grew puzzled, so I got up and looked at the big instrument. It wasn’t long before I recognized something that I should have for the past fifteen years… the sundial was facing east. Nobody could even use this because it’s… always been positioned wrong. Something that looks so perfect, and yet could hardly do the one thing it was meant to do for almost a century.

That was when another thought occurred to me. A more deeper thought, one that stuck with me for the many weeks that I’d knowably work through to finally answer it with everything and everyone coming together: 

How does time move forward?