【誤字熟語/Typo Tropes~Definition of word】夜艶階段(よつやかいだん）“Night’s Sexual Steps” JP & EN Version (怪談 Horror)

夜艶階段（よつやかいだん）

　丘の上の邸にそれはそれは美しい貴女が住んでおり、そこで夜毎、夜会が開かれているとソーシャル・メディアで知って、一張羅を着込んでは年甲斐もなく庭の百日紅を花束に杖をつきつき出かけたはいいが、その丘の登り口に「立入禁止」の看板が立っており、どうしたものか、と躊躇していると、折りしも、その夜の花火大会に集う客たちが不審な目を向けて通過するので、日も暮れてきたことから、恐る恐る登り始めてみると、その石段の滑ること滑ること、まるで氷上の如くで、ベルトに花束と杖を挿し、四つん這いに登り始めたら、宵闇に鈍く光る石段が手をつくごとに「ひやあ、ひやあ」と呻きを上げるので、「ああ、もう誰かが一足早くお楽しみだ」と、年甲斐もなく逸る気持ちと腰つきを抑えつつ這っていると、徐々にその呻きが「行くぅ」「行くなぁ」と悲痛な泣き声に変わってきて、はっと下界を振り向くと、登り口に警官の背中と行き交う花火客がスマホ画面のように小さく窺え、その瞬間、ばーん！と大音響と地響きが四つん這いの老体を震わせたものだから、慌てて石段に突っ伏すと、なななんと、その石段が日焼けした皮膚らしく、その証拠に、視線を巡らすと、唇や眼や男の大事なモノが、ちょうどクライマックスに差し掛かった大輪の花火の玉虫色も鮮やかな閃光を受けてギトギトと煌めいており、そのベロを出した口たちが「行くぅ」「行くなぁ」と妖しくも痛々しげに訴えていて、ああ、延されても尚、執着する者もいれば、反省し、かつ、警告までしてくれる者もいるものだ、とその哀れさと優しさに、皮脂や体液の上へ涙の艶も加わる真夏の夜の、夢か現の怪談。

死すことも

忘れさす美の

罪深さ

Night’s Sexual Steps

     I learned from social media that a stunningly beautiful woman lived in a mansion on a hill where nightly soirees were held, so despite my age, I dressed in my finest clothes, picked a bouquet of crape myrtle from my garden, and set out with my cane, only to find an “Off-limits” sign at the base of the hill, causing me to hesitate until suspicious glances from fireworks spectators passing by in the gathering dusk compelled me to timidly start my ascent, whereupon the stone steps, as slippery as ice, forced me to stow my bouquet and cane in my belt and crawl on all fours, with the dimly glowing stones groaning, “Hiyah, hiyah” beneath my hands, leading me to think, “Oh man. Some guy is already enjoying this,” as I crawled, suppressing my excitement and trembling hips, and then the groans turned into sorrowful cries of “I’m coming,” “Don’t go,” making me glance back to see the distant figures of a policeman and the fireworks crowd below, who looked as small as on a smartphone screen, just as a thunderous bang and tremor shook my elderly body, causing me to collapse onto the steps, which I then realized were sunburned skin, as I saw lips, eyes, and other male parts glistening in the

iridescent light of a climaxing firework, with tongues lolling from the mouths, pleading, “I’m coming,” “Don’t go,” both sensually and pitifully, prompting me to reflect on how some continue to cling even when flattened, while others repent and offer warnings, adding the sheen of my tears to the sebum and bodily fluids on this midsummer night, a tale of horror that blurs the line between dream and reality.

Beauty so sinful

That makes me forget what’s true.

Still, I’m loving you.