Finding Flora

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An act of sporting heroism made for the best day ever. An act of spineless weakness made for the worst day ever.For Jack, his dual-sport motorbike aggressively bouncing over the ruts of an abandoned forestry track deep in the Blue Mountains, the bitter aftertaste of his subsequent silence had neutralized the endorphin rush from winning the Sydney schools’ rugby championship for his team.An overnight downpour had reduced their field of dreams to a slippery quagmire. So, the game was an exhibition of defensive mauling and kicking; closely contested, a try each, six-all, with three minutes to play.That Nick, the feisty little half-back, faked a pass and darted down the blindside didn’t surprise Jack. The team captain was always one to fossick for personal glory. But the cover defence had turned up with their A-game, so, once again, the break was covered.On being enveloped in a tackle, Nick did the unexpected. He passed; only the second time Jack had received the slippery ball in open play. The left-winger carefully secured the pill against his chest and hours of practice kicked in.One-on-one, the opposing winger had been coached to leave a gap near the side-line, daring the attacking player to go for gold but risk losing possession when bundled into touch. Jack did what was expected, seemingly rejecting temptation and stepping inwards off his left foot.Taking the bait, his marker’s weight moved onto his heels. Jack pounced; gambling the game on his right foot. He side-stepped to within centimetres of the touchline and accelerated. Hands slapped his waist, but the despairing tackle wasn’t enough to push him out of bounds.So, as twinkle-toed as one could be on a boggy field, Jack sprinted down the touchline. Crossing the twenty-five, he saw the opposition full-back, by renown the hardest tackler in school rugby, racing towards him.Later he’d be asked why he hadn’t done the obvious; cutting inside, taking the tackle and holding up the ball with the reasonable enough expectation that his loose forwards would be close by. And in truth, he had no answer, for only in his subconscious had he grasped the wet ground’s advantage.Unexpectedly he dived early, well short of the try line but under the full-back’s tackle. Sliding through the slushy ground, his face smeared in mud, he couldn’t see where he came to stop. But Escort Beylikdüzü his teammates slapping his back, screaming in delight, told him all he needed to know. He’d slid far enough to score and give his team the lead.Nick, being Nick, stopped celebrations, reminding them all that the game wasn’t over. Every tackle was desperately made until the final whistle resulted in joyous pandemonium in the St Joseph’s half of the spectators. Grinning, Nick clasped Jack’s hand, thumbs entwined, deltoids briefly brushing. Bro-bumps and back pats were kept on-field, not even their mothers were up for a mud bath of a hug.In victory, the traditionally proscribed semi-shyness of the showers got forgotten. The steaming hot water cascading onto muscular bodies was accompanied by teasing banter and good humour. As always, Jack was in awe of the chiselled bodies that emerged from the sweat and grime. His eyes lingered, sure this was a day he’d get away with an illicit glance or two at taut chests, six-pack abs and swinging, dripping dicks.As they rinsed off the suds, Nick demanded a rousing rendition of the school song. He could be an arrogant bastard, and the prick certainly had an impressive prick, but Jack totally appreciated, following their singing, Nick’s liberal praise for his championship-winning try.Once dressed in school uniforms, Nick insisted the team walk as one to the school hall for the post-match presentation. Peacocks; that’s the best analogy for their liniment and testosterone strut through the throng of admiring, applauding junior years.Following Nick into the hall, the team would have had to squeeze single file past Charlie at the back, who was sitting, head down, totally focused on his ever-present sketch pad which jutted into the aisle. Except that Nick cleared a path, flicking the pad out of Charlie’s hands. “Out of the way, you fucking fairy.”The sketch pad slid up the aisle. The team followed Nick’s example and, with only one exception, trod on the charcoal outline of a muddy embrace between two rugby players. Jack, in stepping over the sketch, had time enough to glance down and see the tenderness in Charlie’s preliminary sketch of Jack and Nick’s celebration post the final whistle.Sitting on the stage as the principal began to speak, Jack dared to glance Beyoğlu escort to the back of the hall. Once was enough, the hurt in Charlie’s eyes as he stared at his no doubt ruined sketch had Jack squirming with embarrassment, knowing he’d time enough to pick the drawing up before anyone other than Nick had trod on it. Nothing, not even being presented with the Man of the Match award, could cut through the gut-wrenching thought that he of all people had let Charlie down.Jack silenced his bike beside an isolated waterfall that tumbled from the cliff face into a tiny mountain lake. Not many ventured so deep into the Blue Mountains, but, as his dad’s favourite place to chill out, this patch of bush was still redolent with the ghosts of trips past. Having pitched his tent, Jack stared into the water, cracked another tinny, and couldn’t hold back the tears.“The deftness of a winning sidestep never excuses a cack-handed victory march, does it, dad,” he finally screamed, tossing the empty can into the water. The startled wallabies hopped off, leaving Jack in miserable solitude, sipping another beer, before falling into a restlessly inebriated sleep.A dawn chorus of squawking cockatoos and laughing kookaburras roused Jack from his introspective night. Though, neither the bird song nor the shadows on the tent from the dawn sun fluttering through the trees were enough to banish the continuous replay of his bittersweet yesterday that ran through his mind.The birds had long dispersed, when the solitude was broken by raspy sounds, not particularly tuneful but, nevertheless, ones akin to singing. Jack’s mind drifted, focusing on the words repeated again and again.Spring’s sprung, spring’s sprung;We’re budding again, budding again,Winter’s bareness banished.Water, oh water, cleanse me,Purify my skin, refresh my soul.Make me worthy, a reborn leaf bearer,For her, for her; my Maiden Goddess.Our Greenwood Marriage, this year, this year?Peering out of the tent, Jack was gobsmacked. The naked singer, knee-deep in water, had the form of a man. But his foliage accoutrements brought to mind one of Tolkien’s Ents.His bark-like skin had the occasional knot in it, his face’s wispy whiskers were lichen-like strands. Statuesque, he was repeatedly splashing his budding thick limbs and barrel-like Bomonti escort bayan chest with water. Again and again, Jack’s attention was drawn away from the creature’s chanting and splashing to an enormous erect penis jutting lewdly in his direction.“Hey ho, hey ho, young man. What are you staring at? Morning wood, hey ho, hey ho.”“Um… Well.”“I know, I know; the staff of life, hey ho, hey ho. I take it you’ve not seen the Green Man before?”“Who? What?”“Green Man, Oak King. Hey ho, hey ho; down under, I’ve got to be the Gum King! Does that make me king of the tooth fairies, hey ho, hey ho?”Jack surprised himself and laughed. “Cute. What are you doing?”“Preparing. Hey ho, hey ho. It’s the first day of spring.”“Preparing for what?”“Her. The Greenwood Marriage, the union of earth and sky.”“Today?”“No nonny no. The earth’s energies are just beginning to blossom. If she comes, she’ll turn up at Beltane, that most liminal of times when nature reaches full luscious ripeness.”“When’s that?”“Mayday in the north; ironically Halloween in the south. It’s a day for sexuality, passion, vitality and joy. Not for a cack-handed victory march by the Goddess.”“You heard?“Hey ho, hey ho; yes, I heard young man. Seen you here before, you know.”“My dad loved this place. Yesterday I hurt someone, I’m ashamed to say.”“Hey ho hey ho, right time, right place. Lucky you. Today’s the day to let water wash away transgressions.”“But…”“Join me. You’ll see. Nothing to lose, young man.”Jack slipped off his t-shirt and boxers. Stepping, knee-deep, into the water, goose bumps broke out as he waded towards the Green Man.“You’re a good-looking young man, a little scrawny for my taste.”“Thanks. So cold.”Gnarly hands cupped a handful of water in. “Only cold on the skin. More importantly, water’s essence will warm as it seeps through your pores.”While dribbling water over Jack’s head, the Green Man chanted.Spring’s sprung, spring’s sprung;You’re budding again, budding again,Winter’s bareness banished.Water, oh water, cleanse him,Purify his skin, refresh his soul.Make him worthy, reborn,For her, for her; his Maiden Goddess.Their Greenwood Marriage, this year, this year?Jack felt the contrast. Shivers ran through him but the dripping water seemingly infused and heightened his senses, causing his cock to swell.“Told you, told you, young man. Growth and renewal; you’re starting to ripen.”Jack smiled. “Maybe my cock, but not all of me. I can’t be forgiven if Charlie can’t forgive me.”“Oh, is that the name of your Flora, your Maiden Goddess? Then you must go, young man. Refreshed, you have the strength to go ask her forgiveness.”“Charlie’s a he.”

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