Perverse pencilling

The heat is stifling. Thoughts are like shadows. The moment I try to catch hold of one, it slithers through the gap in my fingers. The walls are struggling to keep the nausea at bay. The cold stone floor beneath my naked skin keeps me sane. A yellow mug of half stale tea awaits its fate with a lifeless grin. Perhaps it is smiling at my forced nudity.

I don’t care. There is enough of it on the idiot box nowadays.

I am using an Apsara extra dark pencil to scribble. The soft black lead is trying hard to survive my forceful thrusts. Her silver smooth gray skin is slippery with sweat. In the throes of mindless ecstasy she gathers momentum and continues till I let go.

She is spent. I am out of creative energy.

I turn on my back. Using my arms as pillows I look up at the white fan in the ceiling. The hot air fans my fire; suddenly I turn around and grab her by the waist. With a sharpener, I shave her head. With renewed passion I then finish what I started.

A writing assignment.