Young Writers Society

Home » Literary works » Novel / Chapter » Science Fiction

Pillboxed 3 (16+)

by Hannah

After falling asleep in the corner of the tent, Farah woke to find stars above her instead of navy polyester. The Line had become a procession of campfires, each burning up into purple smoke that hung in a violet haze over everything. Gautam was not beside Farah. Instead, Deepti twitched in her slumber and breathed in smoke. Farah put her hands on her mother’s shoulders and shook her has viciously as she could, but her mother would not wake. She only breathed.

Farah began to breathe then, too, and the smoke tasted like jasmine. It was rich and light and it crept into everyone as they slept beneath slouched palm trees. Instead of shops and restaurants, the trees lined the walk way, trying to tuck everyone away from the stars, without realizing that the stars were hiding on the undersides of their leaves. Farah walked.

Farah walked because at the end of the line, she saw the gleam of the silver-topped pillbox. It rose up like a moon peering over the horizon, and the campfires made tiny swirled reflections of red in its surface. Farah walked to see what her face would like like in the silver, in the dark.

When she felt the small hairs on the back of her neck stand up, Farah turned to see a tiger peering at her from behind one of the thick-trunked trees.

“Gautam,” she whispered, then breathed in more smoke. There was a chiming like a tiara around the inside of her skull. She smiled at her beloved. At first she had been frightened of his large nose, his bright yellow eyes, but then she smiled, for this was her beloved.

Once they reached the end of the line together, Gautam pressed his nose to the mirror and it fell back into a lake that sprouted green weeds at its edge. He found the boat first and sat down in it, nearly filling it with his orange and black and the energy of his low, low growl.

Farah looked right into his eyes while she tried to dig her toes into the mud on shore. But he growled again. He called her toward him – low, low – nestled deep into the boat so only his eyes were above the edge.

She stepped out onto the bow, feeling the humid night wrap around her nude body and tongue the sweat off her skin. When she looked back toward the line, she saw the lights of the campfires slip up into the wide darkness above her and Gautam. There were clusters of stars spread out across everything she knew. They lit up the lake, stuttering over the calm, steady ripples that broke on shore.

She slipped onto Gautam easily. She straddled him so that only the tips of her big toes could touch and hold her balance. His fur pushed up against her: silky, firm, luxurious, strong with the rhythm of the boat as the woman and the tiger struggled to find balance in the shallow water. But they couldn’t and she slid over the edge into deep water, still with the feeling of him stroking her, still between her legs, buzzing and brushing. Even though she couldn’t breathe, she wouldn’t try to swim. She let the silvery water pull her down and pour into her and as she drowned, she climaxed, she awoke.

The tent disoriented Farah. She felt wet and warm between her legs, woke up flushed, and it didn’t make sense to hear Gautam’s scraping snore. She hadn’t touched him once in over six months. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt attracted to him without fear, or how their private love had ever been easy in the first place. She couldn’t remember what kind of passion would lead to an accidental daughter. But what she could remember were the nights she’d forced herself to go through with it, and how long she had to sit in the cool of the bathtub to calm down. She would walk out of the tiled room with the morning birdsong drifting in through the open window.

She shook her head to chase off the dream, to shake off the memories, but everything still hummed behind her ears, soft and low like a growl.

Note: You are not logged in, but you can still leave a comment or review. Before it shows up, a moderator will need to approve your comment (this is only a safeguard against spambots). Leave your email if you would like to be notified when your message is approved.

Is this a review?



User avatar
890 Reviews

Points: 33
Reviews: 890

Sat Feb 02, 2013 4:59 am
View Likes
PenguinAttack wrote a review...

Hey Hannahbobannah,

I thoroughly enjoyed this. It, of course, reiterates how I feel about Gautam and Farah and their relationship. You have such a beautiful way with words and this continues here, even though we're getting a slightly threatening image - at least I feel like it was threatening because laying with a tiger will always involve danger. Farah isn't concerned about it because she loves Gautam, but I am because Gautam is a TIGER and will hurt her. and he does in a way, not making any attempt in her dream to help her or save her even as she gives herself to dying. I like the symbolism in this whole thing, the pillbox and the horror and the disorientation.

Farah is trying to get back what she lost and it isn't Gautam, and it isn't their life before, it's Anjali who she wants back. She doesn't even want passion, I don't think, and touching Gautam certainly doesn't seem to please her generally. In the dream Gautam isn't himself, he is an animal with strength and virility and danger and a demand. This is the demand of Gautam's sexuality and need and also Farah's, but they don't meet, they can't meet. She is falling constantly away from Gautam and he isn't trying for her, he's just waiting for her to come back and mount.

I think their relationship can't continue, and this shows that. She isn't travelling toward Gautam or looking for him, she is seeing the pillbox. He gets in the way, distracts her and takes her away to where she drowns. Is this a metaphor for Farah's entire life with Gautam? Probably not, I am likely looking far too into this.

The language and imagery in this is, of course, beautiful and incredible. It makes me want to touch the screen, to assume this is a painting saturated in colour - or better yet, a tapestry with rich colours and thick textures, begging to be held and touched and appreciated. I love that about your writing, it reminds me how and why I love language.

I also like that we don't have to think here. Farah isn't thinking and so we don't have to either, until the final paragraphs, where she starts up again in the past and memory and abject dreams. We need these breaks from the usual narrative text because it lets us move outside Farah and into her world a little more, outside her head and into her eyes almost. I like it.

Thank you for posting this! I'm sorry I'm not more helpful!

~ Pen.

User avatar
541 Reviews

Points: 370
Reviews: 541

Fri Feb 01, 2013 8:28 pm
View Likes
Lauren2010 wrote a review...

Hello once again!

Another lovely chapter! It took me a while to figure out this was a dream, but once I did it didn't take me long to buy it. The imagery was lovely, and the sub-textual meaning behind some of the events is really strong. I like it a lot!

The only real problem was the fact that I had a hard time understanding it was a dream at first. I think this is where I was most confused:

Farah walked because at the end of the line, she saw the gleam of the silver-topped pillbox. It rose up like a moon peering over the horizon, and the campfires made tiny swirled reflections of red in its surface.

I was entirely unaware she was dreaming, and so this really threw me off! Of course once I got that it was a dream (I think sometime after I made the connection that Gautam was personified in a tiger), it's really very lovely imagery.

Looking back at the first line of this section, I'm not sure how I didn't grasp it was a dream at first. It might just be that I'm a bit dense about these things. xD However, if it's something other people struggle with getting you might want to consider rephrasing a few of those opening lines to accentuate a dreamlike environment. It might be that your already dreamy and flowing imagery made it hard to make the distinction? Regardless, I'm probably just not paying attention. xD

Definitely, definitely let me know when/if you post more of this! I'm very interested in reading more! (Basically, I need to know what happens next now. So you better be writing. And posting. So I can review my pants off. ;))

Keep writing!


Every generation laughs at the old fashions, but follows religiously the new.
— Henry David Thoreau