• Dimensions Magazine is a vibrant community of size acceptance enthusiasts. Our very active members use this community to swap stories, engage in chit-chat, trade photos, plan meetups, interact with models and engage in classifieds.

    Access to Dimensions Magazine is subscription based. Subscriptions are only $29.99/year or $5.99/month to gain access to this great community and unmatched library of knowledge and friendship.

    Click Here to Become a Subscribing Member and Access Dimensions Magazine in Full!

An Eternity of Days, By Victim (~BBW, ~BHM, Tragedy, Supernatural)

Dimensions Magazine

Help Support Dimensions Magazine:

This site may earn a commission from merchant affiliate links, including eBay, Amazon, and others.

Victim

Well-Known Member
Joined
May 19, 2008
Messages
1,047
Location
,
~BBW, ~BHM, Tragedy, Supernatural - A terrible mistake leaves two lovers with but one day per year to share their love.

An Eternity of Days

The mysterious figure draped in gilded white floated over the side of the road opposite the inn. It watched as the man it pursued exited the inn and walked alongside the coach. The angel kept down by the side of the road. It could not risk being seen, as Hastings was large enough there was probably someone with The Sight.

From where he was hiding, The Avenging Angel Hua could see the coach rattle and rock as its passenger boarded. Hua glided back away from the road and took to the sky above the coach. He followed the carriage on the Turnpike Trust Road until it approached Rye. The coachman tugged back slightly on the reigns, slowing the pace of the two draft horses that pulled the carriage. The road above the rocky cliff was rough with gravel dispersed from the longshore drifts that had blocked the port more than a century ago.

Hua saw this as his best opportunity to strike. He held his hand high in the air and a heavy longsword appeared in his grip. He fortified the sword's physical substance with his power, allowing it to exert his wrath on the mortal world. Swooping down on the coach, Hua slammed the sword onto the yoke connecting the carriage to the horses. Wood split and metal was wrenched apart with the blow, severing the yoke. The end connected to the coach dug into the road, throwing the coachman forward from his bench.

Hua quickly flew up behind the man and became substantial enough to grab the heavy coat of the coachman and slow the fall enough to prevent severe injury. This consumed a portion of Hua's power, but he could not allow the innocent to be harmed in the pursuit of vengeance.

Hua flung himself around and took a flying run at the wobbly coach, becoming material again, he flew into it with all his might, pushing it over off of the road and onto the jagged rocks below. Timber and waves crashed together onto the rocks, both spraying in all directions. The wreckage quickly disappeared under the foam.

Hua descended over the site of the wreck and drew his sword and horn, ready to cast the spirit of the deceased into the underworld for his crimes against humanity. He held the horn to his mouth and blew the heralding call for his brethren to bear witness to the deed. A visage of the deceased began to rise from the crashing waves, soon to be followed by a second apparition.

Hua drifted over the scene in utter shock. Not one life had been taken, but two. Neither of the souls that now looked up at him in disbelief were of the man he had been commanded to dispatch. His fellows descended from the clouds around him. Hua could hear gasps and then whispers in Enochian, the language of the angels that predated mortal time. Whatever penalty he would face for his horrific error would be without precedent.

***

Reginald unstrung his velvet purse and dropped it onto the counter alongside the basket of meat, cheese, bread, fruit, and wine that Mary had collected. He offered the proprietor of the inn a sum easily exceeding the market value of the goods and a night’s lodging.

The innkeeper at The Mermaid thought the wealthy couple seemed familiar, perhaps they were here spring of last year as well. Their generosity with their coin equaled their impressive stature. With the prosperity of Rye slowly eroding to naught after the port became blocked, travelers such as these were rare indeed.

Reginald and Mary made their way up the cobblestone streets of the town toward the hills overlooking the sea. Passing through the town square, they happened upon one of the peculiar rituals of the area. A brazier had been erected at the edge of the square and above it sat a pot filled with pennies. The well-to-do would take turns tossing the scorching hot coins into the square with tongs.

Ragged and unkempt children, many of them orphaned or abandoned, would attempt to collect the coins as soon as they possibly could, often severely burning their hands. Any child gathering the money with covered hands was beaten and driven away from the square. The gaggle of townsfolk assembled around the cauldron would laugh heartily with each yelp of pain or excitement from the children. As Reginald and Mary approached the edge of the square, one of the revelers spoke out.

“Have a go my fine sir, great fun!” A small man with hardened eyes exclaimed, offering Reginald the tongs.

There was a time when Reginald would have gladly participated in such sport. A time before his life was forfeit. A time before Mary. Reginald glanced down into the pot and noted the approximate amount of coin. He pulled nearly twice that amount from his purse and handed it to the man with the tongs. Reginald then drew his handkerchief and used it to grasp the handle of the cauldron. He hefted the considerable mass off the brazier with a single hand and walked over to the well in the center of the square. He tipped the pot over into the well bucket. Steam burst forth in a great plume from the bucket. Reginald dumped the cooled coins onto the ground. Mary began passing them out to a group of grateful children, adding in a few for good measure.

“You, sir, seem to be a man of the world. Why do you seek to ruin good sport?” A tall man in a dark overcoat and hat spoke.

Reginald walked up to the group, returning the now empty cauldron. He looked into their eyes and let them see the sorrow, the pain. The mere glimpse of a soul that has spent decades in The Void was enough for them to recoil in shock and leave the square.

Grateful children scattered in all directions, some doubling back on their previous paths, the excitement momentarily confusing them. Mary collected the basket and took Reginald’s arm, making their way out of town to the hill overlooking the now useless cinqueport.

The hill was overgrown with tall grass and wildflowers. Spring breezes blew the sea air onto the hill. Mary set the wool blanket down on the ground and put the basket down next to it. Reginald stood and looked out over the town onto the sea beyond.

Reginald drew a heavy breath and savored it completely. Every breath of fresh air was a gift. The salty sea breeze mixed with the light scent of the flowers and flavored the view before him. He took in the scene, every wave, every flower. Mary spread out on the blanket on the ground.

Mary began laying out their repast on the blanket and looked up to see Reginald looking out longingly at the world. She wished he would try and enjoy what they had together, instead of lamenting over what was lost. She motioned for him to lie down beside her. Mary picked an apple and sat cross legged in front of Reginald. She held the fruit up to his mouth and he bit into it.

Reginald felt the crisp, cool bite of apple dissolve into sweet juice as he gnashed it with his teeth. He could feel the force of the crunching through his jaw and bones of his face. The juicy pulp of apple washed down is throat when he swallowed, leaving a refreshing feeling in its wake. A feeling that reminded him of what life is, no… was, like. A few drops of juice ran down from his lips to his chin.

Mary leaned forward and licked the juice from Reginald’s chin, then met his lips with a kiss. She pulled him over on top of her and leaned back. Reginald’s portly form pressing against her own well rounded belly flooded her being with the feeling of being alive once more. Mary reveled in his embrace for what seemed like an eternity before slowly pulling her lips away.

They both leaned back and Mary pulled the Beilby glasses and onion-shaped green glass wine bottle from the basket. Reginald drew his knife and cut the wax away from the stopper. He poured a generous portion of wine for Mary, as well as himself. Reginald swirled the liquid around in the glass and held it up to his nose, drawing the aroma into his nostrils. It had an earthy tone to it, reminding him of his childhood playing in the garden while his mother tended her flowers.

They sprawled there together on the blanket throughout the afternoon, enjoying their feast. The effect of the wine swam around in their heads, temporarily erasing the vacuous feeling within them from existing for the past year without feeling anything at all.

After their meal, Mary and Reginald lie on their sides facing one another and shared a long, lingering kiss. They ran their hands over each other. Reginald pulled Mary toward him with his hand on her ample hips, which were large enough to obviate the need for a pannier to fill out the lightweight white chemise dress she wore with her burgundy redingote jacket. He felt the mass of her body wash over him, bringing a warm peace that affirmed he was alive, if only for a day.

Mary slipped her hands under Reginald’s coat, and around his waistcoat and breeches, feeling his bulk underneath her own. This chased away the feeling in The Void that she could fly away and disappear at any moment. His sheer mass grounded her to the Earth.

The sun began to set, taking with it the warmth of its light. Mary and Reginald packed up the basket and proceeded down the hill toward the town and their lodging. The sun had almost completely set when they reached town.

They passed through the now deserted town square. The brazier still sat on its iron tripod, a reminder of the event earlier. Mary reflected on the plight of the children once more. They endured the suffering of their poverty, but once a year they got the chance to have a slightly better existence, if at the price of a bit more suffering. The children’s situation was much like their own.

Reginald and Mary enjoyed each other’s company well into the wee hours of the morning. They explored every inch of each other and loved one another’s body in every way they could imagine, for there was indeed no tomorrow. Their revelry was interrupted with the sounds of the ‘gentlemen’ that went by in the night outside, moving black market goods brought in by small boats in the cover of darkness. After the noise brought by this illicit commerce ceased, Mary and Reginald reluctantly dressed for their departure.

They left The Mermaid and descended to the covered stop at the bottom of the hill. A feeling of despair filled Mary and Reginald as they saw their black coach approach.

It reminded them of that day when their lives were taken from them. Mary and Reginald’s coach had stopped in front of the inn in Hastings to pick up an additional passenger. A tall black haired man with dark, baleful eyes stepped up to board the carriage. His piercing gaze seemed to look right past them to the road behind the coach. He darted back into the inn, apparently wishing to ride the next coach to Rye.

Mary and Reginald boarded their black coach and it took to the road at great speed. The Avenging Angel Hua soared overhead, finally able to cease expending his own life force to sustain the two lovers and the coach. He would soon have to begin saving it up again, as was his eternal sentence for his error.

The carriage faded from view when mortal eyes no longer looked upon it. Mary and Reginald faded as well, returning to The Void where all they could share were each other’s thoughts, and their love. A love that would last for eternity, always looking toward their day in the sun, an eternity of days.


THE END
 

Latest posts

Back
Top