Maria Shulman held her boyfriend captive in her arms. Her dilated pupils stayed locked on Sheonog while her hands roamed freely over Stephen’s chest. She whispered in her boyfriend’s ear and her teeth tugged at his earlobe. Young Stephen flushed and then nodded.
Father Flaherty watched the couple exiting the chapel hastily with amusement.
“Are you sure this isn’t witchcraft of some sort? You cannot control this effect?”
“Others have thought that. Some villagers in France once chased me away with pitchforks and torches. There’s some magic involved, that just comes from being a gargoyle, but it’s partly psychological and doesn’t seem to be inimical. There won’t be any local demon-children or a general rise in evil or anything.”
Shenog settled his heavy stone body into the relaxed kneeling position customary to his race.
“It’s muted by range, which is why we generally hang out on rooftops. I tend to inspire more “charming gothic romance” when viewed at a distance, instead of the close-up “wicked lustful thoughts” effect. Which is why I asked to rent your belfry, Father.”
“You might even be good for the parish population, if we established some sort of newlywed chapel belfry tour…”
197 words, for this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt:
ParkInkSpot 