The Calling

The women stood waist deep in water as she beckoned toward the shoreline. Francis Pendragon stood on the bank gazing out at her form as she stood waving in his direction. He glanced at the floor and watched as the water lapped up against trainers, the water washing over the edge of the white trim of the predominantly black footwear.

“Come to me” she called seductively from her position within the water and teased a hand through her golden hair. Francis watched as her golden locks fell over her shoulder and draped its way over her naked breasts, water teasing his senses as it slowly ran over her flat stomach as it worked back to the lake. “Francis...” she called and pointed toward the young man on the shore. Her fingers beckoned to him as her other hand fell absently into the water, stirring up the water and causing ripples to circulate and play around her naked waist. Her smile was illuminating and her eyes flashed with a seductive stare and she tilted her head slightly to the side, “you know you want to” she called as water circled her body.

Francis pulled his eyes away from the woman and back to his fully clothed body before he once again raised his gaze to meet the eyes of the woman. Slowly he edged one foot into the lake and allowed the water to cascade over his trainers. His eyes remained focused on the woman in front of him as she toyed playfully with the water around her, letting the liquid slip and run through her fingers. Francis could hear singing drift across the still water toward him, pulling him further into the water, urging him more and more, closer and closer to this naked woman. He strained his ears at the sound and realised the tune was hypnotic in nature and together with her voice and demeanor pulled him further into the water. He could feel the cold of the water as it surrounded his ankles and he forged his way through the water. Each step felt like treacle as he pushed one foot before the other as he waded out into the lake. The thought of the cold biting at his senses through his clothes flirted with his mind as he watched the woman circling her hands through the water, a smile constant on her face and she continued her insistence toward his advances.

“Francis...come to me...” she urged softly over the sound of the singing, “it’s warm in the water” she teased, a hand snaking toward the hair draped over her right breast. Francis watched her stroke the hair and as her hand followed the lines of her body, he could feel a stirring in his loins, but still he followed the sound of her voice. “You want to come” she cooed, “closer...closer...“. Francis was aware of the water chasing over his trousers as each step took him closer to the woman. “Nobody is forcing you...” she purred, “but you want to...you want to come to me. You need to come to me. Your destiny awaits”

He was close to her; he could see his reflection in her eyes. He could feel the warmth of her body...even through the cold biting water as his jeans were now completely encapsulated by water as the liquid of the lake encased his waist. She laughed as he reached out toward her and spun in the water causing the water to shimmer and ripple around her body. She backed away from his reach slightly and smiled back to him over her shoulder. Francis could see the water lap around her waistline and pushed himself further into the water...one more step, that’s all it would be. “Come to me...” she urged again. Francis continued forward, closer...closer...water traced its way around his own waistline. He reached out his hand toward her again, she was just within reach, just a little closer...a little nearer. The cold bit at his waist as he stretched his arm forward...she was within touching distance, her smile was intoxicating...her eyes made him drunk with sexual excitement...closer...closer.

Water swamped him. Francis could feel the sudden rush of water surge over his head engulfing him completely. Panic rose in his mind, the sudden trauma of the inrush of cold swept him off his feet. Through the sudden coldness of the water, Francis could see no sign of the woman as he struggled against the sudden tide. He thrashed against the current as the water threatened to drag him further into the mire, his legs kicked and his arms swung as the sensation of the water subdued him and threatened to dull his senses and overwhelm him. Francis struggled against the water, casting his head upward and forcing his eyes open Francis attempted to see the surface of the lake...attempting to see the light from above, but nothing. His vision was blocked by darkness as the water engulfed him completely and weighed him down. The water pressed heavy against his body as he struggled for air...he could feel it solidifying around him as he fell deeper and deeper, darker and darker. The sensation was deafening.

The sudden pain in his shoulder forced Francis to wake, wrapped in the confines of his quilt. He sat on the floor of his bedroom and took several breathes, gratefully accepting air into his screaming lungs. A dream...just a dream, he told himself. His eyes cast their way around the darkness of his room and he sighed as the light from his small alarm clock blinked out toward him. Almost Four Thirty he thought, as he picked himself up off the floor and sat on the edge of his bed and breathed heavily.

“Francis...Francis...is that you?” the sound of a woman’s voice echoed from the hall outside his door.

“Yeah, Mum” he called back, “sorry...bad dream” Francis listened to the mumbling from his Mother, but could not make out the answer to his admission. Another nightmare, he thought to himself as his eyes played over the mess of clothing piled across his bedroom floor. Third night in a row, but this one...this one seemed so real...it seemed so different. The others had involved fighting...Knights...and worlds of Chivalry, but this was different. He scratched his head as he remembered the visions broadcast through his dream. The woman...the lake, it had seemed so vivid, so real. But here he was, sitting in his bedroom reflecting over dreams lost and pondering his future. Twenty-three years old, single and still living with his Mother in a two-bedroom flat in the heart of Charlton. All his hopes...all his dreams, where had they gone. He held down a kind of good job in a local garage, but it was unfulfilling and he had a niggling feeling that he had just settled for his life. He could do so much; he knew it...but how. He sighed and forced himself up from the bed and shuffled through the piles of clothing, coke cans and assorted wrappers swimming on his bedroom floor and reached for the handle of the door.

The coldness from the hallway bit at his naked torso as he pulled open the door and stared down the corridor. He glanced toward his mother’s room before moving out into the hall. He placed his hand on the flowered wallpaper and traced its pattern as he walked carefully and quietly down the corridor toward a small door near the end of the corridor. Placing his hand flat against the door, Francis pushed at the barrier to the bathroom and slowly opened the door and taking one more glance toward his mother’s room stepped over the threshold into the small space beyond. His hand hovered for a moment over the light switch as he pulled closed the door behind him and stood for a moment as the darkness of the bathroom enveloped him. A quick flick of his finger illuminated the room and he stood by the door surveying the shower cubicle and porcelain basin; he needed a wash he realised as the sweat from his body invaded his nose. Once again he sighed and shuffled forward toward the toilet, taking a seat on the porcelain throne after pushing his pyjama bottoms to the floor.

Francis sat on the cold plastic of the seat and slowly lowered his head into his hands and cast his mind back to his dream. He had never bought into those people who analysed dreams and visions, but the woman...he couldn’t shake the feeling that this had been different. What the hell was he doing? he asked himself and raised his head toward the shower, he needed a wash that much was evident, he could feel the pearls of sweat cling to his body.

“Come to me...” Francis frowned and glanced around the bathroom as a female voice whispered through the pipework. It sounded like the voice from his dream...and the words were the same as she had spoken. He shook his head and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, now his mind was playing tricks on him he thought. He briefly glanced down between his legs as his yellow urine mixed with the clear water of the toilet bowl and after a brief respite stood, discarding the remnants of his clothing and stepping before the shower cubicle. He reached into the confined unit and twisted the knob of the shower and watched as cold shower forced its way out of the shower head. He closed the door and returned to the toilet and sitting down on his bathroom throne surveyed his kingdom. He watched as the steam from the shower rose through the cubicle as the water turned from cold to hot and cascaded down the walls of the clear glass. Small droplets of water raced each other down the side and teased their way down the glass as they made their way back to the confines of the pipework and into the drain.

He stood and paused to listen at the door, mindful that his mother slept only a few doors away. Happy that there was no sound or movement from her room, Francis pulled open the cubicle door and stepped warily into the shower, allowing the water the play over his skin. He moved slowly under the flow of the water as his body temperature rose in tune with the heat in the shower, until finally he thrust his head under the waterfall from above. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to become immersed by the water...‘that felt better’, he thought as the water washed away his grime and the dreams which had haunted his night. He lowered his head under the flow and open his eyes, staring at the water swirling around his feet for a moment before reaching out to the small shelf at shoulder height which housed several small bottles of fragranced liquid. Grabbing a small black bottle, he forced the contents of liquid into his hand and rubbed it over his body, allowing the soapy substance the lather over his body. Bubbles mingled and swirled around the plughole and chased each other as they tripped around his feet as the water washed over his body. Francis raised his head, and closing his eyes allowed the water to wash over his face and down his neck. As he swayed his head from side to side, he allowed himself a wry smile as the sensation of water splashing against his body felt good. He rubbed his eyes and turned, letting the water to strike his back and once again he closed his eyes in anticipation of the sensation of the ensuing waterfall. He lent forward and placed the palms of his hands against the cold glass of the cubicle and let the water flow over his back and haunches and smiled as the sensation of flowing water warmed his buttocks.

“Come to me...“, that voice again. Francis snapped his eyes open at the sound of the female voice. Standing in the shower before him, between his arms was a woman...a naked woman...no... THE woman...the woman from his dream. She stood in the shower with him and smiled. Water struck her body and shimmered as steam rose from her body heat. “Come to me...” she whispered again as water flowed freely over her naked torso and down her waist and legs. Her long blonde hair, once again covered her breasts as it had in his dream, but from his position he could see the mould of her breasts contour against the strands of hair. “Come to me...” she whispered again. Shock overcame Francis and he fell backwards hard against the back of the shower cubicle and as darkness swam into his head, the vision of the smiling woman stood over his prone body.