‘The Kissing Game’ – Short Story Serialisation Chapter 2, by Milly Reynolds

silhouette photo of man and woman kissing
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Elena Trimble was a young astrologer. It was an unusual career but she loved it. While studying psychology at university, she had done a brief course on the ancient art of astrology – and was hooked. She did individual birth charts, a kind of modern psychological astrology, you might say. She didn’t believe in the mumbo jumbo prediction aspect of it, that the future can be clearly seen.

“So what’s this about today’s date, then?” Michael was speaking around a rather large piece of toast he was chewing.

“I’m pretty sure it’s to do with the dream. Dreams can speak to us in symbols and allegory.”

Elena had written down everything she could remember. The dark place she had found herself with this man could have been a church, or perhaps a chapel. Dreams were ruled by the Moon and perhaps the planet Neptune, she figured, hence the allegories, signs and symbols. She was trying to get a clearer view, not only of whom this person was, but what he was trying to say. And why did he kiss her?

She sipped her morning cup of tea, looking out onto perfectly still day, the sunlit grass, the frost slowly dissipating. “Let’s say we were in the chancel end of a church. There was a window ahead of us, though it wasn’t letting in much light, like it was nearly dark outside. There was a book open.”

“A bible, perhaps?”

She shook her head. “It was more like some kind of…parish record?”

“A register.”

“Yes, very likely a register. I felt sure he was directing me toward this book, as if to an entry in it. I remember the number twenty three quite distinctly, you see. I didn’t see it in the book, it just popped into my head out of nowhere.”

“Hm. Maybe he whispered it into your ear after kissing you.”

“Funny, ha ha.”

Elena began to surmise that twenty three could have been either a christening, a birthdate, or a burial. The fact that today was February 23 might be meaningful. There didn’t seem to be much else to go on. There was his general appearance, she supposed, slightly taller than her five feet four inches. It was the eyes she remembered, large, chocolate brown and loving. She didn’t recall being at all scared by him.

“Elena, you need more to go on than just a number.” Michael was placing the breakfast dishes in the sink.

She joined him with her own dishes. “I know, that’s why I’m making sure I take my notebook and pen to bed again tonight.”

Michael looked at her, seriously. “You’re expecting him again, are you?”

“I don’t know, but I’d better be prepared, hadn’t I? I get the feeling he’s got more to say, that’s all. I’ve never had a dream of this clarity.”

Michael had that pretentious little boy lost look in his eyes. “So should I be worried?”

“Hm.” Elena took his hand and kissed it. “Worried? About a figure in my dreams, maybe only figment of my imagination?”

“Nevertheless,” he said, examining her hand, “he evidently makes a good impression.”

copyright Milly Reynolds 2020

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‘The Kissing Game’ – Short Story Serialisation, Chapter 1

Here is my partner in crime‘s latest short story, a romantic mystery spanning the centuries.

couple kissing
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The Kissing Game

By Milly Reynolds

Chapter One

Elena Trimble awoke with a fright. “What was that all about?”
Michael, her husband, was stirring beside her. “What’s up? Bad dream?”
Elena wiped the sweat from her face. “No. I mean, maybe.”
Michael hauled himself upright, blinking rapidly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Did she? Elena wasn’t too sure.
Michael was watching her. “Ok, so you’ve had a dream about some other guy. It happens, I get that.”
Elena felt herself blushing. “Well, it wasn’t anyone I know, if that’s what you mean.”
Michael swung his legs around and gazed at the clock. “Look, it’s only half five, and it’s Sunday. What chance of getting back to sleep now?”
Elena reached for the notebook, if she wrote it all down she might be able to make more sense of it later. They said that recording your dreams was important.
“So what was he like, this guy? I presume it was a guy…”
Of course it was a man! Sorry, for shouting.”
“That’s alright. What was he like though?”

Elena found it difficult to explain, in words. The dream took place somewhere with
quite poor lighting. He was young, charming, powerful in some odd way. And his eyes,
she could remember them, quite dark.

“He kissed me.”
Michael laughed spontaneously. “Did he now. And was this Lothario a good kisser?”
“Yes, he knew what he was doing, if you know what I mean. He had these nice lips.”
Michael smirked. “Was he as good as me?” He reached across, kissing Elena full on the lips, lingeringly.
“Mn, that was nice.”
He looked into her lovely blue-green eyes. “You are so beautiful, did you know that?”
“Get away.”
“Actually, I was wondering – is all this kind of..?”
She pushed him firmly from her. “Not at five thirty on a Sunday morning! And besides, I feel a little queasy.”
“Hm, it must be the shock.” Michael flopped back onto his side of the bed. “Ok, so did this Romeo have anything to say?”
Elena flinched at his question. “Romeo.”
“Yes? Juliet?”
“Shut up. It was just you, calling him Romeo, that’s all. I don’t know.”
“What are you scribbling?”
She was trying to draw Romeo’s face. She had already been doodling some things which had come to her.
“What does that mean?” Michael asked, leaning across.
“What’s the date today? The twenty third?”
“Yes, is it important?”
Elena breathed in and sighed. “I think it might be.”

more follows next week

copyright Milly Reynolds 2020

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Poem: Summer Coming In

spring summer

Spring finally comes, like your
warm breath on my
desiccate skin. So then
sing to me of careless summers,
your smile, where
love begins

© copyright David F. Barker 2013