[av_one_full first min_height=” vertical_alignment=” space=” custom_margin=” margin=’0px’ padding=’0px’ border=” border_color=” radius=’0px’ background_color=” src=” background_position=’top left’ background_repeat=’no-repeat’ animation=”]
[av_heading heading=’MY LIFE AS ART ‘ tag=’h3′ style=’blockquote modern-quote’ size=’30’ subheading_active=’subheading_below’ subheading_size=’15’ padding=’10’ color=” custom_font=” av-medium-font-size-title=” av-small-font-size-title=” av-mini-font-size-title=” av-medium-font-size=” av-small-font-size=” av-mini-font-size=” admin_preview_bg=”]
BY PETER SOLIS NERY
[/av_heading]
[av_textblock size=” font_color=” color=” av-medium-font-size=” av-small-font-size=” av-mini-font-size=” admin_preview_bg=”]
Monday, November 6, 2017
[/av_textblock]
[av_textblock size=’18’ font_color=” color=” av-medium-font-size=” av-small-font-size=” av-mini-font-size=” admin_preview_bg=”]
XIV. EXTENDED VERSION
A naked hunk.
A virgin.
Midsummer’s night.
On a moonlit beach.
Now, rehearse the story.
*
On the third night, the story goes, with a full moon hanging low on the horizon, the second full moon of the month—a blue moon, to everyone’s shock, the bakunawa suddenly grew legs, transmogrified into a dazzlingly handsome man, his dark tanned features set off perfectly in a suit of purest white.
*
Now, on the festival beach, a dark-skinned man—young, athletic, hunky, extremely good-looking in a white long-sleeved shirt (unbuttoned), white sleeveless undershirt (clingy), white pants (now hugging his powerful legs) rose out of the water, shook off the water from his hair as if in slow motion.
Like in a David Hasselhoff cologne commercial.
*
Run as fast as you can! he said to a girl who Matt judged to be barely eighteen.
I’m coming right behind you! warned the man in white as he started running on the water’s edge, splashing playfully as he went, chasing the girl in a white bra, white sarong wrap.
He caught her.
*
They rolled on the sand.
Made frantic love on the sand under the moonlight.
Matt watched the couple in the sand.
Then, turned away with Catholic guilt.
*
Again the story: rising out of the water, the bakunawa strode over the beach crushing the powerless shrimp under his large bare feet.
Behind his back, native men mocked him, snickered at his white costume, but none dared face him, for he had a terrifying mien and laughed wickedly at the crunching sound of shrimp shells underfoot.
*
Women, however, were beguiled by his raw manliness, threw themselves shamelessly at him, followed him like faithful pets.
At first, the mysterious man in white roamed the island searching, destroying every last shrimp that had escaped his wrath.
Then, he turned his attention to the young women.
*
He took the virgins to the shadowy places in deserted alleys, touched them, caressed them with tenderness and intimacy, put fire in their loins, smiles on their faces.
He milked them of juice and honey, some kind of sweet milk honey-juice that gave joy to the giver.
None of them had any memory of what he did, but a few months later, the women all turned up pregnant.
*
When he was done, the handsome man in white left them pining for him.
So intense were their feelings that while they were pregnant, they went mad with longing and loss. (To be continued/PN)
[/av_textblock]
[/av_one_full]
