Date: Sat, 06 Mar 2004 23:05:51 -0800
From: Lael Stalnaker <lael_stalnaker@hotmail.com>
Subject: Fantasy in Wood and Fire

  Dusk's purple splendor shadows the sky over the forest
glen. Dim flickers of light herald the coming stars. Mighty
and ancient trees ring the glade, rising high with their
great canopy. A lone man stands at the open center of the
glen. By the lat light of the dying day he examines his
work.


  Spread out in a space cleared of all plants, down to the
bare rich earth; lay various pieces of shaped wood. All are
placed carefully in the form of a man. Sturdy oak for the
torso, smoothed, dense and strong. The limbs are supple
pine, wrapped with pliant willow. The head is of rowan and
the hair made with twigs and leaves of laurel. The hands of
cedar, as are the feet. Even the phallus is represented,
formed correctly using sweet maple.

  Casting aside his cloak, the man now wears only a loin
cloth. As the last light of day fails and is no more, the
man begins to circle `round the prone wooden form. His
voice lifts to the growing heavens in a chant that is
throbbing and deep. There are no true words, merely sub-
vocalizations and booming guttural utterances. His steps
take on the stamping strides of near dance. His movements
respond to a beat only he hears.

  The man's hands flick toward the wood and powder showers
down. With that contact, the wood smolders and begins to
burn. Flames rise evenly, taking the shape pre-laid by his
careful hands. The wood now glows and his circling dance
quickens. The flames leap and whirl. From them, a red-gold
body rises. The man comes to a stop facing his desire made
in flame.

  The glowing form is all he has ever dreamed and desired.
The flickering flames show every detail that he had
imagined. One last step remains and then he would be
complete. The man takes a small dagger from his covering
and wraps his left hand around the blade. Swiftly, he pulls
it with his right. Blood seeps now from the clenched fist.
Opening the hand, his waves it into the flames inches from
him.

  As the blood hits the wood, the flame form shimmers. It
opens eyes that glitter. Muscles flex and the new made man
awakens. A fierce smile comes and goes as he examines his
creator. He runs wondering hands over his golden kin.
Pleased with what he finds, leans forward. His creator is
now totally still, awed with perfection's beauty. They
stand within inches of each other, drinking in the sight of
their joint desire.

  The man can contain himself no longer and removes the
last bit of cloth from his body. The desire made visible
nods in approval. The man steps yet nearer and lifts his
left hand up. The desire watches as the hand reaches the
level of his lips and smiles. He leans forward and licks
the bloody trail on the palm before him. His eyes watch his
creator over the edge of the upturned hand.

  The man feels the burn of the fire as it seals the cut.
The pain is intense but somehow erotic. His brows crease
though. The desire is fading. The color shifts toward
orange and then flickers. The man looks down and realizes
what is happening. The wood has burned down and now his
desire will go with it. He looks back up, desperate keep
his desire alive. Too late, he knows the folly of desire
lost.

  Only hot ash remains within moments. All of the careful
work eaten away for only a brief token of time. The man
looks at his palm and smiles once more. His desire left its
own mark forever, sealed with intense passion's flame. The
memory will be well served by his own hand.