I have always been a reserved, slightly on the shy side kind of girl, unaccustomed to compliments. Brought up with an old fashioned Christian view of being virtuous, lady like, modest and respectable, I was never really given the choice or even opportunity to doubt my virtue. My very limited sexual experience with a boy during college had left me unfeeling and settled in the frame of mind that the whole notion was overrated and ridiculously exaggerated. I had not given him my virginity, it was worth too much in my eyes. The pathetic kissing and cuddling certainly wasn’t breathless, or hot, or drug like. It was generally emotionless, irritating in fact. It was not in all honesty an honour to God that made me keep my virginity until I was almost twenty it was through simple lack of desperation to change this.
God, I think, would be ashamed at how easily such a seemingly beacon of virtue became led by the devil. One icy night, when the sky had darkened to shades of violent purple and blue and the ground shimmered like crushed diamonds, contrasting colours of white and black, the colours should have been the first sign, Innocence-experience, Angel-Devil. I didn’t stand a chance. This is the short diary of a once virtuous angel, who followed the wolf into the darkness. This is what occurred in the darkness.
An angel laid upon a bed, suspecting but confident in her own restraint never knowing how easily she’d succumb. A devil of seduction allowed too close, a kiss…a few more. It was never meant to go any further. The first feeling was heat. Skilled hands trailing the fires of hell over an untainted body, kisses rough and soft on bare skin, a somersault of breath over a rapidly beating heart. The air became thick and breathing almost impossible, suddenly drugged with heat. Overpowering, unexpected, a burst of hot molten desire ran like warm wine down her throat, over her naval to the passage of intimacy between her opening legs. Another surge of fire, she was on fire, her skin burning. If she’d worn her cross it would have stung her sinful skin, it might have strangled her delicate neck. Instead soft hands cupped her throat with powerful dominance, spanning out and roaming down, over every inch of her frame. More, more, more…the words rang like church bells almost echoing from her lips. She bit down cruelly forcing them back but what did escape into the open were wanton unfamiliar sounds let free from some wicked fairy caught on breathless waves.
With the heat came the mist; a fog of sorts over her once clear green eyes. It settled in her throat caging protest, like alcohol in her veins, her limbs grew heavy. Her spine arched without control, suddenly her body was under the command of the wolf that had caught her. Fingers clutched at fabric in an attempt to hold onto reality, to not slip, too late the mist carried the angel off, delirious, unconscious of thought. More, more, more. Thrumming, throbbing, wings as damp now as the place between her legs, so wet like summer rain, a rain of kisses on her breasts, more, more, more.
A vague and distant protest tried to break through, somewhere was a voice spitting ‘whore’ ‘too much’ ‘stop it now’ ‘it’s going to far’ ‘you’re letting yourself fall, stop falling!’ …’Oh but it feels so good, so different. I want to be your whore’
Forsake the lord and his kingdom,
I have sinned, I am the devils subordinate
I cannot step where I am forbidden,
So lead me Devil into temptation.
Carry me over the coals of hell
For my angel feet cannot pass through
Catch me, carry me and I’ll let you.
You can face the lord, tell him that I fell.
Poor angel, ignorance has been your downfall, muttering and whispering to Christ as you lay there but he did not answer, he let you slip away. No one could have explained, you never really knew, no boy could have shown you this; it took a man to make you feel like a woman. My wings are heavy, the angel thought, I don’t want to leave this hell fire bed. I want to burn through and through. I want to know how to make you burn too.
“Fall angel, fall and I will catch you.”
Angel sits on a cloud, a flushed face of shame, when did you become so wanton? How could you have let it go so far? Naughty angel! Showing a side of herself so quickly, so openly, a side she didn’t know about. You’re a fallen angel. You still want more.
Angel spreads her wings it's that time of night, the devil he lingers just a minute more.
Ready for sleep upon a cloud
but then suddenly pushed up against a wall, a sigh out loud.
Angel's knees buckle, she'd fall without the devils arms.
Feathers pressed against the wall, oh god forgive me I cannot say no.
Never mind your trembling thighs child, you fell a while ago,
I feel the heat rise up from you, God will feel it too.
Hot mouths press together, unrestrained, laced with sin.
Take me now for gods sake the angel could beg aloud,
it's time to leave angel stop this now!
Oh I can't, push your hand in... the claws of the devil slip in, so wet,
so wanton, place me back on that bed?
Oh christ I can't breathe, my legs are weakening,
I can't stand much longer, lift me up, take me to hell,
I want to burn, I want to die in sin...
It's time to go angel...it's time to leave.
Stop these thoughts, stop this need.
The angel awoke in violent daylight, her flesh was cooled now, but the memory of the burning remained...Torture, hot red coals had been lain upon her bare flesh and heated her through to the core. The devil had lain within her, he had stirred himself in and out and she'd accepted with abandonment.
"Where is God now? I cannot face him again. The essence of the devil ran through me and poured out marking me as his own, marking the bed sheets. I'm sorry my lord, for I have sinned. The devil has taken me for his own."
Angel's memory is burned too like her body, a searing pain like a branding knife touching her, pushing in, invading, the pain was hot and hard and the lust confused it, more, but it hurts, take the pain it's worth it to be so full with heat.
Oh Angel it aches now doesn't it, poor sweet one, God won't have sympathy for you, cleanse yourself angel your pussycat is tainted with come and the memory of sex. Breathe angel, the ache will pass, you'll want more soon enough. You’ve lost your virginity, it bled out on the devils bed, you waited so long only to leap from the arms of the lord into the sheets of the devil.
The Angel couldn't wait long, a day at the most.
"I want more. I need to be full again, I want my wolf inside me. Yes...yes...More, I'm yours. I'm yours to command.”
There's a bite mark on her inner arm, the flesh brusied brown with passion, oh no angel your demon did not hurt you, you fool you bit yourself, you took your own flesh between your teeth and bit down hard to stop from screaming. You may muffle your cries angel but God still hears, he hears you murmer his name over and over but not in prayer, he hears your wanton call and your thoughts are loudest of all. You tainted girl, you let the wolf take you like a dog, you wanted to beg for more...you still do.
"I want my wolf again, I cannot sit here without the thought of being taken and pushed and pulled running through my head. I am a lady of the West but I've stepped down from grace, take me again wolf, screw me your own way."
I waited when others rushed, I held back when others ran. I said no and walked away when everyone else seemed to stay put and be led astray. I have finally been led astray but I chose my wolf with care, and I became a woman when I became of an age to deserve the name. I waited until a man made me so hot with a few kisses that I couldn’t think of anything else. The twenty years I’ve spent in this world have not held much in the way of adventure or excitement or even grief. I’ve not been anywhere, or lost anyone, or even made any mistakes worth telling, but I have in the month of April shed my white gown, replaced it with a red cape and followed the wolf into a dark place called lust. I’ve lain with what I can only describe as a human version of temptation, and I’ve felt raw genuine passion for the first time in my life. That’s worthy of writing I think. That inspired me more than anything has in a long time. I am an angel, but a fallen one now.
Biography piece on Jane Austen
No, no, no Jane thought scribbling away with her quill so furiously it almost snapped in two. The beginning and end to her novel were yet to be finished, it had a title, that much Jane was certain about, “First Impressions” it just needed to be finished, but her hand trembled and Jane was not in all good reason at her best to be writing romance at the moment, instead she took up a fresh piece of parchment, laid it down and began a letter to her sister,
Cassandra my dearest,
At length the day is come on which I am to flirt my last with Tom Lefroy, and when you receive this it will be over. My tears flow at the melancholy idea. I have reflected and pushed it around my head so many times always to the same outcome, it must be ended. We cannot marry, and already the reputations of both parties, as pointed out by our mother, have been tarnished to an extent. This I have little concern about, but surely to endure such love for much longer, would be to inflict more pain upon us both.
Your affection sister, Jane
Taking a breath Jane left the letter to dry under the blotting sheet. A letter in Tom’s hand lay upon the desk and it cut a fine figure against the grainy wood.
I write with the sole intention of confessing to you what I should have the moment I met you, I live for you, I love you. I can suffer no longer in silence, you know this, how can you not? We will find a way, a word from you will have the bans called up this week. We will find a way. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever.
Jane choked back a disjointed sob, the pain was suffocating, knowing she was to meet him that evening and let him go. For the sake of both their families she had to. There was no way.
Tom waited for her, a handsome figure in striking bottle green. He bowed his head to her but she did not run to him and it was not until he came close enough did he see the glistening of moisture upon her lashes.
“Jane what is it? What have you to say to me?”
“I come in receipt of your letter.” Jane began slowly “I regret I must refuse your proposal, for the sake of both our families and the sake of…”
“What!” he cried indignantly, “Damn the families, what say you of my feelings Jane, of your feelings? Do not make jest and pretend you have none for me”
“No I don’t admit to that. I care for you deeply, as well you know. However our circumstances as such mean that an alliance of our kind would result in hardships and scrutiny from our circles, we must think of others, think of your sisters how they depend upon you.” Jane’s eyes pleaded with Tom desperately, everything she could not say reflected in the mirror like quality of them.
“I see. So this is your opinion of me? That I would abandon my responsibilities without a second thought?”
“No!” Jane cried “but you must see as I do the impossibility of this match, no one will stand for it Tom. You will lose your place at court and then what will your family live on? What will mine? Selfishness is a luxury reserved for the rich, not for us.”
Tom stood in silence for a while, he looked as though he were certainly torn between running away with her and protecting his career and in turn his family that much depended upon him. When he had written his letter for her he had not known what way they would find, only that there must be one. He saw now through Jane’s rejection of him that there was no way. Another luxury for the richer of men was the ability to marry whom they chose, and love was not a mercy given to the poorer of England’s gentry.
“Tell me, how’s the latest novel coming along?” he asked randomly changing the subject to disguise his anguish. It did not fool Jane but she played along, her own insides burning as her heart shattered.
“Not at all. I cannot find a way to end it.”
“Happily.” Tom replied with a half smile “The joy of fiction, you can write it as it should be. Give Elizabeth the ending we should have had, the unbelievable one, that could never really be in our world.”
Jane’s tears started to spill over onto her cheeks but she held her feet firmly where they were, if she ran to him now she’d lose all her reserve. Tom had less restraint, for a moment he took a single step forward, tilted before turning and retreating. Feet away from his horse he looked back.
“And the title, I have a better one.”
“Pride and Prejudice.” He replied with bitter humour “without either in our society we would not be walking away from each other this moment. If it wasn’t for the Pride of our families, your own pride and mine, the prejudice of society…we would be married within the month.” Jane could do nothing but nod, her tongue swollen and heavy, her throat clasping shut. Her heart drowning in its own agony, pieces like shreds of paper fluttering from her hand in the wind.
“Goodbye Miss Austen” he bowed and that was the last time she would see him for the next twenty years. If I can’t marry him, I’ll marry no one. She swore to herself watching his horse dart away. My characters can have the love I was not allowed. I shall never marry. Jane cried then most bitterly, her knees buckled and she crumbled to the ground. A storm of rain like tears viciously pounded down on her, dampening her spirit along with her skirts. She had let the only man she’d ever loved go, and now had nothing but her writing for comfort. That would have to be enough. Once at home Jane didn’t bother to undress before scratching her quill along her earlier parchment.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.
Then the added but later crossed out
And such a man can choose his wife at leisure, whereas a poor one must suffer the reality of loss, and a woman, as has always been, has no respected opinion in the matter.
Jane decided then that she would dedicate her life to her literature all the while missing Tom like a bird would miss its wings.
Twenty years later
Jane found herself a little exhausted from the evening and found herself a quiet place by an open window. She was weakening; her family had noticed and in turn so had she. Anne Elliott had been given her happy ending and that was what Jane had been holding on for. Suddenly Jane’s hands trembled and she caught her breath as she saw a familiar silhouette cutting a shadow in the light. A moment’s reflection set her to rights, and she could look upon the face she had not seen but thought of often the last twenty years.
“Good evening Miss Austen”
Older, etched slightly with lines, silver rivers running through his once black hair, Jane savoured every angle and arch of his face.
“How did you find my most loved?” she asked smiling softly, struggling to stand properly.
“Pride and Prejudice, I liked it better than Emma. Of course I’ve read all your novels. I particularly liked the title.”
“Indeed? A young man I was very fond of gave me a lot of inspiration.”
“Is that so.” Tom smiled and looked younger with the brightness is his eyes “he adored you I assume?”
“He loved me a little once I believe.”
“A boyish love?”
“Oh no Jane, never. Never boyish, much deeper than that I assure you.”
“Even now, right at my end?”
He clasped her hand but for a moment before taking the appropriate steps back.