Languid Hot Chocolate
Niki Sneditova

© Niki Sneditova, 2023

ISBN 978-5-0060-8210-6

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

Languid Hot Chocolate

“And then, thin scarlet rays penetrated everything they could reach. Sprawling along the milky red sky, they bronzed under fat cystic clouds, where darkness covered every tree with patterns. The sun’s smoke baked the stale crests of the mountains, while the gentle thorn beat of their snow-covered hearts shook the beads of frozen lakes. The hot black sea was filled with bitterness, striving to resemble the blind visions of its pathetic soul. A weak soul that carelessly fell into the depths of the whitening abyss. I saw it when I was getting up from my small crib, very young. The emotions that have appeared in me cannot be found in anything else. I began to feel the world, madly regretting those who are not around now. But what do I care about them? And why would anyone need others when life spoils your valuable imagination? She exposes herself as a maturing girl and blushes prettily. Scratches the dimples of your cheeks until they bleed, kissing only briefly. And then… The snow-white rose of her warmth descends to her poor, very weak chest. I will always be grateful for that…

After spending time with paintings on the second floor, I invariably noticed how a scattered lush herbarium, crying under the window, gently shimmers with an icy tangerine crust, close to an unripe, airy-green gooseberry, knitted on this earth with its emerald thorn-talisman. And then, listening to my sister’s poem about the dead baron, it was as if I touched the golden heartbeat of the great lord, who watched the world he conquered blossom like eternal gardens. Imagine only the limits of that sweet cradle; how smoothly the once-blackened bird echoed away from it, farther and farther away, farther… and further. The movement of the wings led my gaze to a gloomy forest in the fog, to a field in rye that was mown to the brim, not far from the noticeable whitish graves. They seemed to frame the forest like a wall, but in fact, they had long been like low castles throughout its territory. I’ve seen it every day. Not a copper, almost honey, evening landscape – the most affectionate that I would have seen. Luxurious fabrics of coolness embroidered a combination of unrestrained, autumnal charm of these species. They contained a frozen fire of caramel-claret color. Cool and slow, he breathed the scent of rain and soaked grass, gradually falling in love with me.

To endure heavy treatment at this time was also a rare experience for me. Along with the cold charm, I felt sudden burdens, and then the autumn frozen sunrises took me firmly with them. It is impossible to resist these impulses, just as it is impossible to accelerate their flow. Again, going to my window without strength, I looked into the reflection. A faded ghost who can’t feel and is getting weaker. All the dampness was reflected in me, every wet pebble was hated by my eyes and froze in my mind. So, having satiated me to the limit, autumn itself began its life in me, for a short time…”

“A suicide card enclosed in the flyleaf of Danny’s diary…”

Chapter 1

By the evening, in the house where our story begins, everything seemed to freeze. Massive cabinets stopped opening. The crackling of the stairs, as well as the crunch of the railing, did not sound at all. Not a single conversation of the audience was heard. By eight o’clock, silence had taken over. There was no light at all on the top floor, so there could be great doubts that at least one small room would have a person. The only thing, only the street lamp shone with calm, white rays exactly into two spacious, tightly closed windows. He played with tulle, leaving long shadows in front of him, so that all the beauty of the patterns, embroidered flowers, maybe dandelions or peonies, thin, elastic branches and petals divided into thousands of threads were transferred to the tarnished floor of an ash-dark texture. A light breeze was walking outside the window. The sky completely lost its colors and turned into a black void. The mood could not allow a single star to find a place for itself on this infinitely gloomy canvas, like a long lake, trying to rain down on the roof of a house completely pacified inside. The pale wallpaper of the room looked like thousands of colorless crystal droplets were flowing down it, and the only thing that covered them was a medium-sized canvas that had been hanging near the door for about two years, with an oil painting of a hunter driving his prey in the middle of the sands. A nimble rider, shooting his arrows from an elongated bow with a rare braid around the edges, on a beautiful white horse, tightened with red reins. On the shelves, in orderly rows or one on top of the other, half-opened, sometimes half-read books with a variety of contents, light literature with very worn, soft covers lay carelessly. The eye was attracted by the frequent, countless written sheets scattered on the table, containing neat, measured and suddenly ending strokes of black paste, laconic portraits in the form of brief and strict sketches. The chair was slightly pushed back, but a little more than usual, its back rested on the sharp edge of the table. From the height of an overhanging, heavy chandelier, perfection was revealed this evening.

There were two people lying on the bed, barely covered, free, not ashamed of anyone in this world. A strong love impulse struck them, exhausted them to helplessness, playing with them as for the first time. And after that, as soon as they were able to quietly get closer to each other to share the last most intimate tenderness, calming their beating lightning strikes, agitated hearts, sleep came imperceptibly, but even there the object of their adoration and passion appeared to them. Naked, they looked like a newly painted painting. Alone in the middle of warm, marshmallow sheets, embracing, as if they are extensions of each other. Her leg calmly covered him, just above the knee. Her sweet white face, flushed with embarrassment, lay placidly on his chest. Her delicate fingers even unconsciously hugged him behind his back. The sweet cherry-berry smell of her blonde, long curls filled the whole room with its cosiness and love.

Only in the seventh, eighth hour of the blinding snowy morning, the huge house could hear a quiet and slowly pronounced:

– Leah —

The sweet sounds of this native name, of course, were not a desire to disturb the sensitive dreams of a young, timid girl who had found her peace – just a languid desire of an impossibly boiling heart, to meet a new day as soon as possible. With impatience to awaken her whole world, so that at least for a while to see a brief, picturesque dawn in the irises of each other’s eyes. Having dreamed about these minutes all their lives, they wanted to prolong even any random second, to keep each other at least a little more just like that. Beautiful, and perfect. A long-forgotten, envious pity could ask – do not end, never, it is not necessary, and for nothing, do you hear us? That’s what usually happens with feelings. It was then that it would be unforgivable to make even an unintentional movement outside the bed, to remove the enchanted gaze. However, this, though a short way, had to be passed. Having gathered his thoughts a little, wearing a dark silver hooded sweatshirt for a glimpse, Daniel secretly, as if in one movement, slipped down the wooden, cumbersome stairs directly to the kitchen on the first floor. He washed his face with cool water, tidying up his long bangs behind his right ear, after which, for a while, he began diligently preparing a treat for two, a small breakfast treat. Adding the last drops of maple syrup to both plates, which caused sympathy in an instant, Daniel hurried back to bed. And when he returned, as soon as he entered the door, he saw a gentle and dreamy girl no longer sleeping, and with what a progressive step, like an experienced ballerina, she directed herself to touch him in an awkward and desired embrace. Pleasant, electric feelings permeated her slender tummy with joy with new and new strength. Listening to emotions, they touched their innermost dreams in this world, fully recognizing each other

– No, I’m afraid alone, let’s go together —

She followed him as a long-awaited guest, embarrassed, nevertheless, with every step, hiding under her shirt her round, good shoulders and a feminine body with light dew-moles, a paired decoration of her thin collarbones. Leah quickly dressed in the bathroom, brushing away the fragile remnants of such a calm, serene sleep. And in a rapid succession of silence and caressing, they chose the closest places at the dinner table along with love desserts. Starting gradually, with only one spoon, they enjoyed Danny’s treat, vanilla ice cream with a few colorful chocolates in a crunchy soft praline. Served in large glasses, the viscous, chilled sweetness slowly touched the tongues. A light, dripping drop of ice cream again and again gave the barely stretched, milky lips a pleasant redness. More brief was the time spent in the hallway – quick, curly butterfly wings – kisses; lips – that, opening slightly in the heat of embraces, touched, warming each other, as if in the most frosty winter, near a high toilet with movable, opaque mirrors. In a couple of movements, having tightly tied her white scarf in a long, mutual revelation, he pulled a plaid-linen shawl from the shelf, wrapping it in several sliding turns. And everything was almost ready, but something else was missing. Leah leaned her body forward, gently leaning on Daniel, and her tender lips touched his cheek. The sticky, garnet gloss cooled infinitely perfectly on her scarlet, thin mouth. Her golden, wavy hair shimmered, on which droplets of light girlish breath would soon be imprinted.

For a few pleasant two hours, the winter wind depicted a cold, metal door and two young people who were waiting for a taxi, embracing, as if in fear of the slightest separation, in the midst of an unprecedented snow blanket. Still feeling each other’s scents, they gave them to the chilling, January air.

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