Beauty in a box
Just a little idea which popped into my head the other week and since it is Halloween I thought I’d give it to you as a little gift.
Unpacking in the bookstore one day I received an delivery from a publisher I wasn’t familiar with – the Isis Ressurectionist Press. The paperwork stated seven parcels but didn’t detail the contents. I was a little surprised when I opened the first box and found not books but a head. A rather beautiful head of a gorgeous woman with pearlescent skin and long dark hair, packaged oh-so carefully. When I gently lifted her head from the box and held it in my hands her eyes opened; deep hazel brown, gazing intently at me. Her wine-red lips moved as if to speak but naturally no words came since she had no lungs to give breath to her voice.
Her shining eyes looked around for a moment, as if she were considering her predicament. She took in the remaining parcels then looked back at me, then again directing her gaze to the boxes. It was clear what she desired me to do and so mesmerising was her gaze, so cool her demeanour that I felt no fear or panic or revulsion but instead put her head softly down upon the table, arranging it so she could see me clearly, before picking up the next parcel and carefully unwrapping it. I was not terribly surprised to find inside an ivory-coloured arm and not at all alarmed when the delicate fingers of that hand curled around my own, gripping me briefly then releasing my hand. Carefully but rapidly I opened the remaining four packages and found another arm, a taught torso and a pair of very shapely, smooth legs.
Assembly was swift – as soon as I brought her arm near her torso it seemed to pull itself toward it, as if magnetized, sealing instantly, flesh to flesh, no scar, join or mark visible to show they had ever been separated. Another arm, her elegant legs one by one. All this time she watched me intently from the table, her gaze calm, approving. With as much care as I could I gently lifted her head, cradling her chin and placed it upon the neck of her torso. Her eyes seem to grow brighter, her cheeks flushed with life and the delicate ghost of a smile brushed her dark-red lips. Complete, she stood before me, naked and perfect.
Almost perfect. Her hand brushed my cheek, her other armed encircled my waist, drawing me close. Her lips moved once more but still there was no sound. Realising what she needed my lips met hers and I pushed my breath into her lungs. Our lips parted and she took her own first breath; I could feel her breasts rising and falling against my own chest. Still her manner was cool. I noticed a blemish upon her otherwise perfect chest. Slow realisation dawned upon me: seven boxes were marked upon the invoice but I had found only six. The seventh box was nowhere to be found; the box which contained her heart. I could not see her live a life with no heart, so picked up an unpacking knife and made her a gift of my own.