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The diary of Joseph Barker
July 10th, 2014, Dallas, USA.
When we traveled to the Scottish vale, none of us understood my friend Gloria’s sudden change of temper. She was a cheerful girl at the best of times, but the moment we entered that land, she became extremely moody. Gloria is a girl who does whatever she does with absolute finality and with a determination that has been an envy of many in our circle of friends. So when her temper turned dark, it turned blacker than an abyss.
We were visiting one of those obscure Scottish villages one day, when she went missing. We were three guys and three girls, counting her, and we were backpacking through Europe and living it up generally. Since she was missing and we wanted to cover maximum ground in minimum time, we decided to split up into two groups. One of groups was Piper and me. The second group consisted of Tiffany, George and Jamal. This was perhaps the only agreeable pairing, since Tiffany and Piper couldn’t stand each other, I couldn’t stand Tiffany and Jamal, and everybody loved George but he had privately confided to me that he didn’t want to hang out with Piper. Long story short, we made our groups and set out to find Gloria. The plan was that we meet up after searching for three hours at the town square. If we didn’t find her in three hours, we would contact the police.
Piper and I chose the high road. I mean we literally chose the high road, and started ascending a street that led us from the heart of the vale up into mountains that were completely dense with forests. An old timer who looked like Michael Douglas with a silver toothbrush mustache ran into us on the way and told us to watch our step as we went up there, saying that they had been enough disappearances in those hills. From that moment on our respective moods became more alert and more tense.
Piper’s hot head of blonde hair was perpetually jerking this way and that, each time any sudden noises intruded on us from the foliage. I found her constant fear a little annoying, but I knew that we were both having a case of nerves and let it be.
An hour ticked on without any action, and then we espied the most gorgeous little lake nestled between a clump of hills. It was like looking at one facet of a shimmering sapphire, and that one look was enough to banish a lot of our tension. While our search was important, the beauty of the lake was compelling enough that we quickly agreed that spending a few minutes looking into its waters, and dripping our feet into it was all for the better and would help us think clearly later on.
We descended towards the sapphire lake, and found that our expectations were exceeded by how clear the water was, and how utterly beautiful the green banks were. A number of dog sized beavers apparently shared our fascination with the lake and were busily lapping up water and generally enjoying the water the way it is meant to be enjoyed.
Then I saw something in those waters that I will never forget. There are some scenes that must be viewed only once for them to be imprinted on your mind’s eye for a lifetime. We saw our friend Gloria, far beneath the waters. It was a mixture of shock, horror and awe that clenched its fists around our imaginations. She was well and alive, but she must have been close to the bottom of the lake. She appeared to be breathing as though she breathed in water, and we could clearly see that she was playing a carnal sport with the water itself.
The water around pulsed and became a living anthropomorphic form that was more opaque than the rest of the shimmering waters. The form was some sort of a water god, perhaps. Whatever the case, the form’s enormous penis was darting in and out of her sex, and giving her what must have been abundant pleasure.
They rotated in the water one way and then another. They swam closer to surface sometimes, and sometimes they drifted back to the bottom. The shape of the entity who appeared to be composed of pure water changed. Sometimes he appeared to have long, flowing blue locks, and sometimes he was bald. Sometimes his blue water cock was a foot long, and sometimes it was only inches long. Sometimes his balls of crystal water were sized like walnuts, and sometimes they took the size of melons. Through it all, Gloria was having the time of her life.
Her entire body was a study in extended orgasm. We couldn’t hear her moan, but her lips were kissing her aqueous lover repeatedly, with what appeared to be increasing passion. The waterman even grew two large water cocks at one point in time, and treated her to a faux menage-a-trois, which was apparently where her passion skyrocketed even further than we had imagined.
The waterman changed in size and fancy perhaps to the whims of her erotic imagination. I don’t know what she was thinking through the experience, but it would be fair to say he fucked her brains out. He even became seven different waterman that gang banged her all at once, from the most impossible angles and with the most carnal intent.
Ultimately though, the waterman became as one when she attained her climax. Even through the clear expanse of water, I clearly saw the point when Gloria attained it. Her slender form started shuddering through the throes of ecstatic orgasm, and I plainly saw her juices, clear as day, as being distinct from the water around her, and they lapped around the aqueous cock of the waterman.
Her orgasm, as it were, seemed to precipitate the demise of the waterman. Right after her orgasm, he dissolved into the sapphire waters, making me wonder which part of the waters formed his head, and which part of the waters formed his cock. Gloria emerged from the blue waters a minute later, her dark hair further darkened by the water in it, and as naked as the day she was born.
She was surprised to see Piper and me, and she blushed red for a moment. Then her face gained a haughty look, and she looked me in the eye and said, “If you speak of this to any living soul, Melusina will drown you.”
Piper and I have never spoken of that day ever. I commit this supernatural incident to my diary, because the human psychology must have some outlet for expression, no matter how high the price may be. Perhaps Melusina, the feminine spirit of fresh waters and sacred springs will attend to my demise this very day. Perhaps not. I haven’t broken my promise, since I’ve only written an account of what I saw and not spoken of it. Please include my safety in your prayers from this day on.
Thus ends the diary of Joseph Barker, who was found drowned in his bathtub on July 12th, 2014, after the Dallas police was contacted by concerned family and friends. Gloria d’Arras and Piper Schwanthaler are being questioned. Since this is a recently initiated investigation, police have asked members of the public and press to exercise patience and restraint in their expectations and actions pertaining to this case.
Note to the reader: You may wonder at the names used, and the picture used. In order to give you a richer reading experience, I have used meta-details about the myth of Melusina that would explore its history without distracting us from the narrative. For instance, the most famous version of tales featuring Melusina was by a certain Jean d’Arras, compiled around 1382-1394 and hence the female protagonist is named Gloria d’Arras. Similarly Ludwig Michael Von Schwanthaler made an excellent sculpture of Melusina in 1845, and hence another female character is named Piper Schwanthaler. The main character is named Joseph Barker because a writer must accommodate his or her own whimsy. The image used is a rough drawing I traced from Schwanthaler’s sculpture.
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