BASFR: Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence

At the end of twilight. In the half-darkness of his hall. The snow fell in December.
On this tropical island. 
Outside his house. Inside his house.  

He played the piano wearing his full white military uniform as the snow fell sparkling gold under the spotlights. The spotlights burned from the ceiling. The snow melted on his fingers. His fingers danced. Tenderly. Across the black and white spaces of music. Emotion. Memory.

“How do you charge?” he asked.
“As long as your song is going,” I replied.

And his fingers danced across the black and white spaces of story. Secret. Life.
I listened to him:

*

“I have charged them all. Sent them all to detention barrack. The queers, the gays, the sinners. They deserved it. That's where they belong.”
I made no sound. Just sat quietly, listening. The beauty of the melody: falling: like petals of melting snow in the hall. His silky voice slipping: through: between light and shadow.


“Their love wears forbidden colour.”

He frowned. Sighed. Confessed:

“And my love, is forbidden colour.”



“I don’t understand. I don't... If it is wrong, why would God make it feel so good?”
The melted snow pooled into liquid on the floor. A liquid mirror. And the spotlights quivered, danced, in the mirror floor.
His quivering reflection was that of a boy. A boy in full white school uniform, playing the piano. But a frightened little boy.

“They dragged me into the toilet cubicle. Tore my clothes off. Grabbed my cock in their hands. And they took turns. Sucking it.”


“I hated them for it. I hated them. I hated them for making something so disgusting feel so good. They made me hard. And they made me cum and cum. Even when I didn’t want to. And damn it! I love that feeling…”

*

The man playing the piano was in his full white military uniform. An army colonel. The peeks of white were showing in his hair. And the flashes of white were falling in the hall. The ceiling was gone. The spotlights were gone. Just the stars blazing bright and clear in the wintry sky of December above our island.

“They didn’t want me. I didn’t want to seduce. So I forced them.”
“It was easy. I was their officer.
“And they all grew hard too. And they cummed just as easily. As easily as they were uncomfortable.
“And soon they found me others. Others to bite into. For we were the vampires. Passing on our love like a mystic river. A river flowing in forbidden colour. Flowing from the top, down to the bottom. But we were always searching for the sea. Always.”

“I had to charge them all. My superiors knew my explicit hatred for gays. No place for them in the army, I had declared. The generals with the stars on their shoulders patted my shoulder – go on, they said, go on.”
“I had to silence them. Silence them all. Not just the ones who tried to turn me in; not just the ones who turned against me. I smeared them. Painted them as liars. As vampires who preyed on others. I made them out as the worst possible abominations there could be.”

*

The walls of his hall were gone. The floor was gone. The melted snow had formed a trickling stream running over our feet. Stars were everywhere in the stream. But it was cold. The coldness of the music. The coldness of the night.

“How can something that feels so good be wrong?”
“How can a river flow in forbidden colour?”
“Where is my own piece of ocean?”
“When will I reach it?”

The colonel turned his face towards me, eyes pleading. “Will you suck my cock?”
I laughed. 
“All you can afford is your music. For I'll be gone when this song ends.”
Desperate and afraid, his hands left the piano suddenly in a wild attempt to grasp me. 
But I was gone. 
From his house. From his hall. From him.

*

A few days later, it came out in the news that a high-ranking officer, well-known for his anti-gay stance, was charged for running a homosexual club in the army camp. 

Another few days later, on Christmas eve, he was found dead with a pistol in his mouth. 
There was blood all over the piano. And it burned bright in forbidden colour.