To Make Sense
Sweet book, we meet again in this forbidden cell of ours. They can’t study you, no, you the one within me. This dream shall keep you safe for now, from their analyzing, constant analyzing. Forgive me for I must begin now.
He was afraid of what it could mean, this death of his. Dark clouds of vapor surrounded him as he wept, as he dissolved, as he was no more. I stood there watching the horror in his eyes as it happened. Three times I had witnessed this strange ritualistic death since my arrival to this wretched school two months ago. School, prison, school, prison; I can’t seem to remember what it was they tell me to call it. I upset the others they tell me, the teachers, my silence is the only response I give to their incessant questions. Why had I come here? This place seems to drain my memory so easily. I laugh as I remember the white velvet and satin walls that surround me. And I cry as I remember they are not of satin but rather of filthy stone. And the bars are rotten, and the floor is mud and straw and mildew. Why am I here?
Murder.
Yes, that’s it! I had killed someone. Someone very close to me, someone I knew so well it hurt. That’s what it’s like with me, it has to be that way always. Seeping into their heads my soul learns of them, and this one was a fountain of torment. Her eyes were black and alive, and her hair flowed like so many dark streams into the torrents of hell. She had known who I was, what I was, she had known what she was doing, she was trying to kill me!
To kill me with her empty soul, and her pale face, the face of an angel. Fallen. I noticed her from miles away. She knew I would. A smile crept across her face when she saw me, pretending she knew I couldn’t see her from where I was. I drifted towards her as if out of a distant memory and she pretended not to notice my presence as I walked but paces from her. The towers rose above us in this massive city they call New York and we call Taienay, the city of winter. I felt their shadows all mix into one big crescendo of foreboding as large flakes of snow drifted past me, some alighting in my long white hair, or on my torn old jacket. I shivered, not from the cold but from the intense colours she seemed to be emanating towards me, giving me a glimpse of the beauty from within her very cells.
“You lie to me.” I whispered.
She but smiled, never turning nor acknowledging me. We walked on through this cold draining night, hours passing into hours, blending together as the skyscrapers melted in size, smaller and smaller, until they themselves were no more and we were outside the city, nearing a frozen forest or swamp, or both.
“Let me show you something!” She said to me, taking my frozen fingertips and leading me deeper and deeper into the passing foliage. When we were deep, deep within this forest, she turned to me, her eyes so small and fragile, imploring from my eyes the intense gaze I was giving them. “Look.” It seemed she had said without moving her lips, and I was looking. Eyes had never had such depths as the eyes in which I looked. I was locked within her stare, and the colours were no longer coming to me in mere glimpses but as a great flood of emotion and music. My hands rose and came to rest on her shoulders completely without my noticing, yet that is when the notes of the music seemed to change and take on a new tone that was both beautiful and horrid. Not even horrid, ugly! And with the musical symphony of death these exciting and wonderful colours swam together and what was once a magnificent sapphire green mixed with a dark wood brown, and those colours mixed with all the other colours and they became a thick clinging ooze.
It was sadness. It was loneliness. It was her soul.
I let out a cry but, putting her hand to my mouth, she silenced it. Her eyes were becoming misted, and she came forward and pressed her soft lips to mine taking me into an embrace unlike any other. And from her mouth came not the intense love which is to pass through two souls joined together in such a way, but rather a fog, a noxious fog that was strangling me. I threw her back from me, shoving her with my weakened arms. Insanity! My eyes were wide with confusion as I watched her stumble back a few paces.
And her face was so hurt! She drifted towards me once more, trying again to lock me in her great luring spell, but I stepped away shaking my head, feeling so betrayed.
“Don’t!” She cried softly. “Don’t go!” A light sob.
Treachery, I thought.
“You can’t! I...need...you...” She lowered her head and in the moonlight it seemed as if so many small and precious diamonds were falling from her face, disappearing into the rising mists.
“You...you can’t do this. I will not give my soul for one such as you!” I shouted with so much vehemence and pain. So much conviction.
“No! You don’t understand,” she reached for my hand. “It’s not as you say, please don’t go.” The colours flickered yet again, the music played ever so softly. I was again drawn to her eyes. The notes, the tone, the death.
“NO! Lies are what you feed into me, you cannot rid your hideousness onto me, into me. I will not become a vessel for your sin!” I shouted pushing her again from me.
“You will do this thing for me!” she shrieked, rising above me as if lifted by the mists that surrounded us. She brought me up to meet her and took me again in an embrace, this time locking her mouth to mine harshly, and filling my lungs with her deadness. I tried to cough but could not and I struggled with her but found myself weakened by her spell. But I cannot die like this, in the murk of someone else’s dead soul.
“You sadden me...” I said to her, knowing she could hear me without sound. “And this is your price, and this is your death.” She gagged, and I felt a cold form of blood enter my mouth, for I had summoned my arms around her throat, and I had crushed her neck.
And you see book, my lovely book, they had come for me then and there, and had asked who I was and by what authority I had done this. Authority! I could not have done such a thing without authority. I shall never forget her face. I shall never forgive myself. But alas! here they come again to question me and I must awake and lock this room before I leave so that they might not slip in without my consent. Adieu my good friend, I shall not be allowed to write to you again.