Hands ripped into the dirt, unknowing what they were digging for, but knowing something was there. And then, 6 feet into the sweet earth, grey skin collided. And it was a frenzy then. Something only fit for the eyes of the supernatural, but still human in the worst way. Human in the best way. And the two creatures knew then that they were each other’s and nothing else mattered. Not the hot brand of reality, the pain of missing home. Nothing compared to their first taste of divinity.

Two eroding arms gripped each other as broken feet stumbled into a broken cabin. Knobs of bone hitting the floor caused the sound of a beating heart. It would suffice as life for now. And they knew then what to do, as if death was but a stage of sleep that they had awoken from. Soon a bonfire sent sparks as an offering to the heavens ‘let us stay’. And pointed teeth sunk into smoked red flesh, and hollow throats eagerly gulped down the sour harvest left from lord knows when. They danced and cried at the pain of skeletal rituals. And they fell into the decaying leaves, knowing that they were something macabre.

The sun rays licking through the trees sizzled green and they knew they had to get inside before they lost their second chance. So they stumbled into their sanctuary and collapsed into the other, feeling as though they were back home in the bogs of forgotten trails. They would wait, almost asleep, until the dinner bell of crickets rang, signaling they were safe from divine wrath of Belenus.

Eyes stare out into the darkness. Something rustles from the wood but it’s lost to the crackling of the fire. Two men are sitting on a log, letting the heat be the cause of their warming grey flesh. Their fingers absently toying with each other. Light gusts of breeze keep blowing by, making their mountaintop feel like heaven. And neither lover ever thought they would make it to anything, much less their own grotto gates.

Their clothes have turned them into nymphs, neither remember much about civilization, but when did that ever matter?

Their heads lay bowed together, as they watch the orange of oblivion fade into the midnight of God’s pupils. Earthy hands send sparks as a bottle of some burning liquid passes from swollen cherry lips to the other, and mingling breath turns into one.

And they know that it’s a death sentence, but good Lord they’ve never wanted to be more human than they are now. Orange turns green eyes into a crystal ball, can he see God too?

Two lovers poke at the fire and slowly turn some woodland creature over the licking flames. They relax into each other, knowing that here they were allowed to be them. A gentle kiss is shared between the two, full of teeth and blood. But it feels like a large swig of their whiskey. And they know no one would understand except for the trees. So tomorrow at daybreak they’ll travel to a lower altitude and try to meld into the dirt, holding hands forever as wet clouds their nostrils.

And they’ll wake up that night, unsuccessful, gripping each other’s bodies like stubborn roots from Mother Earth, fishing for their souls in the Universe at starlight. And they’ll return to their small cabin. Not talking about their failed attempt to go home. Instead they’ll fall into each other, or into a bottle at least. And they’ll grip each other with human hands. And whisper human breaths as they think of inhuman love.

That night they’ll fall into the embers, hoping they’ll be taken back below where they belong. They reminisce of cold lips and grey peeling skin, and they regret ever waking up. But they have each other. And as the flames die down, they’ll take portions from the other, only enough to get by.