The Path

We walked along the path, winding, meandering between very mature trees and overgrown bushes, heading nowhere in particular, just forward. We held hands, fingers interlaced, curled between each others. Further along, the undergrowth became more dense and I let go of your hand and placed my arm around your waist, and yours slipped up around mine as well. We walked on deeper and deeper into the dark overgrown underbrush and the overshadowing canopy of the old trees, now nearly blocking the sunlight, there were barely shadows. I slid my hand up your back, between your shoulder blades and up onto your shoulder, hooking my fingers around the point of your shoulder and pulling you closer to me and your hand moved further around the outside of my waist, your thumb hooked into my belt band. The path slanted downward, a slight but constant downhill grade and the umbrella of the trees was even thicker and the underbrush intruded onto the path, brushing against our legs and our sides, making the path narrower, pushing us closer to each other. As we were encouraged closer by the narrowing trail I moved my hand from your shoulder to the back of your neck, thumb on one side, fingers wrapped around to the other side, and my grip tightened. I could feel your muscles tense against the pressure and I squeezed your neck even tighter, moving my hand and fingers up under your hair, tangling and twisting strands between my fingers. Deeper and deeper into the darkness of the overshadowing trees and the infringing closeness of the bushes, the path inclined even more and now less winding, led down off in the distance, into the darker, denser undergrowth. When we rounded a slight bend the path widened and was braced by long stone benches on either side and the surface tilted off to either side and we moved instinctively toward a bench. Your leg bumped against the side of the bench, you knelt one knee onto the seat and the weight of my body pushed you down, leaning forward so that you had to brace yourself with your hand. I pushed down on you even harder, bending you down further until your forehead was also on the surface of the bench. With your arms on the bench you tried to push back up, out from under my weight but I leaned down more heavily, my body pressing against your back. Attempting to avoid me, you slid partially off of the bench but the edge pressed across your thigh at the hip. The sun was fading from the sky and the heavy overgrowth of the trees nearly blocked all of the daylight, the darkness of evening flowing in between the branches and through the bushes. Squirming, you tried sliding off the bench, trying to escape by curling into a fetal position to protect yourself but instead the hard edge cut deeper into your thigh, trapped between the edge of the bench and the full weight of my body pressing down onto your back. Then as the sun dropped behind the horizon, the darkness settled down completely. I moved my mouth from the back of your neck, over your ear, my full weight down on you. Unable to see in the growing darkness, my hand moved to the back of your neck, I felt my way to you, fully engaged, in the total darkness.