The Lovers
They kissed on the platform with absolute abandon as if the rest of the world did not exist. Commuters and tourists tutted, pushed and milled around, oblivious to the arrow that had pierced the lovers. Fate. Eros. Passionate love. Their souls and bodies now forever joined; the iron arrow connected them. It gave them both a wound that would never heal. The other travellers sped up, hours passed, blurring into weeks, years. The lovers now a fixture, as their mingled blood pooled on the platform. Over the years they faded. Moment by moment, their lives and their love drained away.
On the platform, still oblivious, the commuters and tourists stepped over the abandoned arrow. The lovers no more than ether. No more lovers left.
The statue of Eros and his bow at Piccadilly Circus. Station Opened in 1906.
Mark’s stories have been published in the Escape Velocity and Full Fathom Forty anthologies, as well as Scheherezade and Estronomicon. He has had poetry published in The Nail, two pantomimes performed and is working on two novels. Mark is a member of the Clockhouse London Writers.