"Gnosis" by Anonymous

Pain ran through my right arm and a little silent gasp left my mouth. I managed to lean forward to hide her face from the drivers view in the mirror, asked him how much further was left to the town. The hired car windows were open and hot southern khouzestan wind was blowing inside.

I get off the train in a small station, somewhere in Holland, and walk to the taxi rank. It seems that I have to wait as the last one just disappeared.

I turned back to her to see her tears rolling down her face. She's looking at me, in a way as if she can't see me. I tilt my head to see the red bite marks on my arm and she bends to rest her head on my chest.

There it is; the taxi driver has a long white moustache and shaved head; speaks English with a strong Dutch accent. I'm looking out the window, a mild breeze brushing my face, and can hear the driver mentioning something about the war.

Her hands were running around my waist trying to find a way up my t-shirt. I'm somewhere between not letting her do that and making way for her advancing fingers. I lose myself and close my eyes.

Perhaps there's something not quite right with the address. The address was sent to me from a triple forwarded message that had arrived in my absence. We are struggling and the dusk partial darkness isn't really helping. The driver is moaning, in Dutch.

I asked the hired car driver to pull over near a rundown little brick-walled building in the middle of the road. Not a single soul could be seen around. I practically dragged her through the door frame inside, half-eyeing the driver walking away trying to shake off his legs. It turned out to be a prayer-room with dusty and worn out carpets. We didn't care and knelt down in front of each other on both knees while our lips hastily, dangerously, approached.

The message reads, "Find me at 17, Fredric van Edenlaan, Delft". We pass through it for the second time. It's strange, there's no number 17 here. I pay the driver and get off the taxi. I go on foot with a faint hope of magically finding the place.

I told her that we ought to make haste and get back to the car. The sun had gone down and the driver was waiting. She was tentative a bit. We got to her place at last and she went inside. I followed hesitantly. I saw her strip and slip into the shower. I blindly copied her.

I think it's about 3 hours that I'm walking from one dark street to another. I see the lights of a free house. Inside, I can't see anyone except for the old barman. He get's me my drink and walks off. I taste it. Locally brewed?! I light up a cigarette and gaze outside.

She dried herself and refused the mug of tea that I had just made for her. Quite lazily crawled to the bedroom and crept up the bed, rolled up the sheets, bent her body posture and as the duvet fell down, she disappeared from the rest of the world.