Coppelia

“Ouch! Hey…w… What was that?” A sharp stinging sensation on his left bicep brought him from sleep to a state of confused wakefulness. And then… Was that the bedroom door softly closing ? He sat up, rubbing his eyes blearily, turning in the bed to where he expected to see Lori, his Lori, asleep beside him. The covers on her side were thrown back. The red numerals of the bedside clock glowed. 3 am. His mouth felt dry. Damn, he wished he’d had some water before coming to bed. Another night at the Husymans Club had left him exhausted, and more than a little drunk. Dehydrating by the time he’d got back to the small apartment no more than…What was it…? Just over an hour ago? But surely Lori, trusting little Lori had already been in bed, asleep, when he’d crept with exaggerated alcoholic care between the sheets beside her. So where the hell was she now ? And what, the thought intruded into his still fuddled brain, had happened to his arm ? He rubbed it with his right hand, feeling…Absolutely nothing, he realised, with just a twinge of alarm. Nothing save for a cool, distant tingling. ...

One night, he who I call my lover came to me as I slept, and penetrated me with a needle of exquisite length. The shock of its entry brought me awake even as my lover’s drug begun its work. Helpless, I gazed through the darkness into the face of my fate. He spoke then, in the same, soft, tender voice I had heard so many nights before: “You know that you can’t move, don’t you? Not so as a fingertip. Even now your breath becomes shallow, the rise and fall of your chest slighter; so slight it scarcely seems you live. But you do live, don’t you?” ...