Golden Locks of angels,
Did I feel on my skin,
Silken touch of fairies,
Oh! Was that a sin!
Sweet scent of roses,
Rising with the sound,
Passion within my heart,
The violin case on the ground.
Oh! Silken it was and red,
How did I love the sight of it,
Polished wood, dark and gleamed,
Untouchable patterns of age upon.
Open it lay there,
This beautiful thing.
How I wanted to take it
And make it sing.
Its sound was as clear as a silver bell,
Soft mellow voice from within,
Striking me like lightning would do,
Oh! Yes it was a sin!
To feel such passion
For what I held,
To love it,
Breathing the music I played.
I could see the notes,
Flying in the air,
Angels sat upon
And there they stayed.
My hands made it sing for me,
My hands made it cry for me,
My hands made it be me!
To hear myself play it,
Feel it,
Oh! That was a sin!
But as forever it was,
Me and my violin.
Thee,
Beautiful,
Captured forever
In the image of an angel.
Beauteos figure of illusion.
Voices of devils speak.
Though you are unreachable for me,
I see you.
Thy hair reflects the soft shimmer of moonlight,
Silver.
Thy eyes mirror the beauty of the night,
Silver.
Thy lips are full and red as a blossom,
A rose in bloom for eternity,
Red.
Thee,
Undying beauty.
You are here now,
And will forever be.
With a touch so cold
And yet so warm.
Thy love resides in words
Spoken only by thee.
Can you hear it,
The melody of love?
Thy eyes are covered
With a veil of crimson.
You can hear it now,
Yes.
Eternity awaits you.
Let them rise!,
Those velvet curtains
Let it rise!,
That veil of crimson.
See those arms,
Reaching out to embrace?
Make them all the more yearning,
But never let them touch.
The voices shout and scream and sing,
Along with the melody of the delicate violin.
Ha! See me! How I play, act and dance!
The white paint melting off my face,
The mask of illusion fading.
Yes! Come and see me and love me!
It is all but a masquerade.
How I love the sound of clapping hands,
The voices begging for more.
I am here! Look at me!
Again on that unchanging stage,
Bathing in the spotlight,
Being celebrated.
Famous.
Loved.
Ah, yes! That is me!
Come and see! Come all!
Until that moment when all grows quiet,
Bows and gratitude for the audience.
Come and look! Come all!
Until that moment when I leave the stage,
And the curtain descends to fall.
My love to you,
It burns like fire,
Untameable flame,
Growing higher.
Its light never fades
But only grows brighter,
As my arms around you
Grow ever more tighter.
The lips of thou are locked to mine,
The love of thee as you divine,
Will never end,
But only shall,
As water turns to blood
And air turns to dust,
As my fire burns out
And fading the lust,
The longing, reaching, yearning for you,
Only then I ought to let go of thee.
I touch you with one finger,
The love of thou in me will linger.
Amber eyes of yours,
Burnt into my mind,
And always will stay, still in kind.
As they once were,
Only seldom hatred,
But filled with love as you looked at me,
Filled with lust as I touched thee.
Emotions were growing,
Love and hate,
You looked up once more,
Then closed the gate.
Oh! the sight,
I could not bear,
Surrounded by darkness,
In despair.
Then did you leave me
To love you
Alone.
To remember the kiss,
It pulled me down.
Thy immortal kiss.r
Seeing thee,
Licking the crimson off your lips.
Your skin was so white and flushed with my blood.
Oh, the pain!
Thy immortal touch.
That moment was ours,
And shall forever be.
As I shall be thine,
For eternity.
The melody you play,
The music in my ears,
Oh! Beautiful violinist,
Of this moment I have dreamt.
Enchanting melodies of thee,
Soothingly calms,
Let me fall asleep softly
And safe in your arms.
Feel the love I feel for thee,
Feel the passion I feel for thee,
But you can never feel the longing I feel for thee.
The eyes of mine,
Reflect the fire,
The touch of mine,
Reflects the desire.
Oh! But nothing in this world could reflect my love.
Only the look into the eyes of thou,
Tells you enough.
Kissing thee,
The passion runs free.
Gentle touches, embraces,
Kisses and hugs,
Every moment is of enjoyment.
My dark angel,
With beautiful white skin,
Standing like a statue,
Holding a violin.
Hearing thy music,
Like paradise on earth,
Beauteous melodies,
For that it is worth.
Play for me,
Forever my love,
For you know I am yours,
I shall be thine.
Play for me,
I am yours my love.
Play for me,
For eternity.
The lady was so fast asleep in her soft, warm bed,
not knowing how ill she was.
Already dreaming of tomorrow,
the tomorrow she would never live for.
A low, enchanting voice woke her from her sweet dreams...
Come with me.
"Whose voice is this?"
"Who are you?"
No one.
But come with me now, it's time.
"Time to go where?"
You'll see.
"What's happening?"
Something that happens to everyone.
Death.
"Am I dying?"
Yes.
"Oh! Only once more do I want to touch the soft skin of my beloved,
for the last time taste his sweet lips..."
So she reached out to touch him,
but only reached into the mere darkness,
touched the emptiness, void,
felt the coldness of nothing.
It's too late now. Come.
"No! Where am I?"
On the way to nowhere.
Endless streets of pitch black plaster,
the sky a low cage of grey clouds,
the water even blacker than the blackest of nights,
and the weak beams of the lanterns are as dark as darkness and therefore no light.
She saw nothing.
"But I can't see! Where are you?"
I'm here.
"Where?"
Here. Can't you see me?
"No. There's no light..."
...because I blend perfectly with the darkness of nothingness...
Then she felt it embrace her with death.
...for I am nothing.
Again, she felt it pull her closer, and closer, into nothing.
Her struggling against it would not help.
Her fine limbs went still and numb, and she couldn't open her eyes anymore. Oh! How suffering she looked then!
Struggling, fighting.
Fighting for her life, that no longer was a life, but a death.
She knew then it was no use. Of course it wasn't.
This happens to everyone.
And with that, the lady then died. One last faint whisper dying away on her dry, cracked lips, "...Good-bye, my love..."
And her beloved spoke to her, "Farewell."
Embrace me in your blood-stain’d wings,
Hold me captive within your sins.
Tear my wings off, watch me bleed,
Blood, blood flowing,
On my pain you feed.
Be not fooled by his innocent gaze,
Turning your thoughts around in haze.
The kisses he blows,
A wisp against your skin,
You fall for him,
Into the deadliest sin.
Let me out of your blood-stain’d wings,
Let me escape your venomous sins.
Return my precious wings to me,
Wipe away the blood I see.
Struggling, fighting, but I was weak,
Vengeance upon him I did failingly seek.
Utmost pleasure it gave him, to watch me die,
Yet as he watched he began to cry.
Why, when he had done what he did,
It was I that should mourn.
I was the one that he had craved,
He was the one, now, that couldn’t be saved.
The mansion was surrounded by an eerie atmosphere I couldn’t wholly explain. Someone had died in the garden. His soul was trapped in the marble statue which stood at the entrance gate, and as I reached out to touch its cold cheeks it struck me hard across the face, leaving a clean bloody cut along my right side. I wasn’t afraid, I didn’t care. I couldn’t even feel the pain. I only saw the blood.
Two hundred years old that mansion must have been, if not more. It was falling apart but beautiful nonetheless. Only one window was hung with curtains, and a faint shimmer of candle light spilled through the gaps of the heavy fabric. I could see the silhouette of a man seemingly imprinted in the draperies, growing larger and smaller with every current that caused the flames of the candles to sway. His figure was continuously stimulated; he seemed to be dancing.
My hair was sticky with the blood from the wound. Ah yes, that damned wound. I nearly forgot I had it. I put my hand to my cheek to collect the dripping blood and licked it off my fingers. Savouring the metallic taste on my tongue, I was distracted by a sound. He invited me, he called to me. He wanted me in that house. Such a tormented voice was screaming my name. I heard it ever since I stepped onto that neglected property, as the branches of a hollow tree grabbed my hair and pulled me into the lifeless garden I was then standing in. But I only became aware of it in that moment, that voice. It wasn’t human or inhuman. Like laughter and weeping at once, the cry of torment and suffering and the angelic laughter of little children.
I was being led into the mansion by that tantalising melody. I stood in the entrance hall. It was cold and gloomy and most uninviting. I was freezing and my lips were blue, and again I didn’t care. I wanted to see the source of that mesmerising music. Ah! Such passion! That melody played me like a puppet on strings, leading me wherever it wanted me to go. Up the circling steps it carried me. I tripped over the fallen chandelier and a broken table, its chipped wooden leg scraping off my skin. Yet again I felt no pain. I only saw the blood.
In the corridor of the second storey the melody eased its grasp on me, and I could finally draw full breaths again. I merely stared at the open door out of which the music poured like a wild waterfall. It was the violin! The Devil’s Instrument was being played! But by whom? By the Devil himself? I could not help but push the door a slight gap more open, and I glimpsed a tall figure dancing insanely to the melody he played. The violin sounded as if it were whining, seemingly weeping over the pain of the flames of hell that were licking at her wood. But it wasn’t the Devil that played. It was a beautiful Angel of Music, with a boyish face and dark wavy hair spilling down to his shoulders. Strands of his hair were glistening and dripping with the blood sweat that was clinging to his forehead like little red diamonds. The expression in his eyes was furious! He was possessed by his music, and I couldn’t clearly see what he actually felt. The violin seemed to feel for him, talk for him.
He abruptly ceased to play, as if he had sensed my presence. He closed his eyes and as he opened them, blood tears were streaming over his white face. He looked so fragile then, so delicate and forlorn. So hurt. The violin fell to the ground with a horribly disturbing echo. I stepped back and covered my mouth with my hand, not daring to make a single sound. I could smell the dry blood on my fingers. Was my face wound still bleeding? I didn’t know.
He took graceful steps towards me and gently wrapped me in his arms. His tears were dripping onto my cheeks, leaving faint red lines behind. I was full of blood. He loosened his embrace slightly to bend down, and as he lifted me up he began to lick the blood off of my face. The feel of his tongue on my skin chilled me. He drew away slowly and whispered in a mellow voice:” The Devil’s Instrument.” Then he buried his face in my hair. Our shadow looked gruesome, like two devils entwining. His embrace became firmer with each breath I took; he was squashing me like an insect. Didn’t he see that I couldn’t breathe? Didn’t he hear my sobbing and attempts at screaming? Didn’t he feel how I was ripping at his beautiful hair?
My ribs crushed and pierced through my lungs. My spine broke as simply as a mere branch. I couldn’t feel anything anymore. My heart ceased to beat. He let me fall to the ground just like his violin.
I could hear his steps; however, I couldn’t see him. The night remained as black and cold as it had been before. The giant trees in the forest seemed to be growing with each step I took, casting frightening shadows on anything the moon spilled her silver light over. Where was he now? I couldn’t hear him anymore—his presence had vanished. I was alone.
The snow clung to my clothes, soaking them, making me shiver. I wanted to lie down and fall asleep, knowing that I wouldn’t wake up again. I wanted the snow to cover me gently, softly, stroking over my skin like icy fingertips. I would lie in the arms of the white coldness, letting it creep over me, being cradled to eternal sleep by it.
I could hear his steps again, almost carefully approaching me. I looked to the side; was that a tree or a silhouette? The sound became heavier, firmer, seemingly crushing the freshly fallen snow beneath his shoes.
He was next to me; I could feel his breath against my cheek. I didn’t dare to let my eyes stray, to look to my side. But it was inevitable that I would. His coat was covered with snow, lying like a delicate layer of dust upon his shoulders. He turned his bowed head my way and locked his gaze onto mine. Trying to close my eyes, I failed. His mesmerising glance held me captivated within his invisible grasp. A deliciously devious grin formed on his lips, I wished to kiss it away. Raising his hand slightly, he reached out for my arm and ran his fingers along the inside of it, until he reached my wrist. He closed his eyes and moaned with each breath he took, as if the pulse inside of me was keeping him alive. His amber eyes were focused on mine again, the passion within himself burning in them like tiny red flames. I moved closer toward him, until my body was firmly against his. He grasped my hand, our fingers entwining, while with the other I twirled his dark hair around my fingers. Pushing me backwards, he flung me against the trunk of a tree. His eyes had no expression in them. “I push away things I love”, he said in a half whisper, as if the longing for me had eaten away his voice. Then couldn’t he bear to love me?
Before I could see clearly again, he had me pressed against the tree, his arms pressuring my chest. He bent down and kissed me roughly, swallowing my screams within his lust, burning them within his incredible passion. He pulled away and looked at me with wide eyes, touching his lips with his fingers. He hadn’t wanted that to happen—but he wanted to savour my taste forever.
I touched his beautiful face. Slowly, almost cautiously, I ran my fingers over his eyelids to his delicately shaped nose. My soft touch lingered on his lustrous lips. I felt a terrible desire for him…
His hands searched my body, fumbling with my tattered dress. He kissed me again, but this time more gently. I could sense his love. His fear. But what did he fear?
He ran his fingers along the inside of my thigh, while with the other hand he wandered up my body, to my breasts and then, as he reached my throat, he tore off my dress completely. Going down on his knees, he pulled me down with him. He took me into his arms and cradled me, as if he wanted to keep me warm. But his touch was even colder than the snow.
His hands ran up and down my body, caressing every inch of my skin. Then he bent over me slightly and let me drop down. Even though the height wasn’t much, it pained me still to land so roughly on the cold ground. I was aching everywhere.
Spreading my legs, he laid both hands on my right thigh. He kept looking at me, deeply in my eyes, with that sincere look. It was as if he was begging me for forgiveness for what he was about to do.
He was hovering over me and drew full breaths, seemingly agitated. Squeezing the skin of my inner thigh, he swiftly let his body descend upon mine and began to cry. I wanted to move then, to lift my arm and wipe away his red tears. But I could barely even breathe. I lay there like a lifeless doll. Expressionless. Dying with a smile on my lips.
He threw his head back and screamed, as though my love was a sword that stabbed him right in the middle of his heart. But he was hurting me more than I him. He was aware.
Tilting his head to one side, he growled and bared his fangs. They glistened in the moonlight like pointed diamonds.
He pulled my leg up violently and groaned, piercing my skin with his canine teeth. I became hysterical and struggled. He wouldn’t let my leg go. I could see the blood running down my thigh in thick streams. It felt hot against my cold skin.
He was moaning under his heavy breath, as if the liquid crimson would increase his longevity.
I was screaming, gathering the snow around me in my hands and throwing it at him, in the hope of his letting me go. He didn’t even look up; he was too taken in by my blood. He tightened his firm grip on my leg, making it become numb. It seemed not to be a part of me anymore.
He drew back with a swiftness that dizzied me. Standing up, he licked his lips over and over again, gathering the blood he had spilt down his chin. He looked down at me with an indescribable expression on his face. It was almost comforting.
I was shaking violently. Before my eyes closed I saw that around me there had formed a circle of red. I lay on crimson—my blood was drenching the snow as if it was cloth and I was lying on a bed of red satin.
A swoon passed over me at the immense loss of blood, and the red circle around me continued to grow. I could feel the warm wetness beneath my skin.
I was ready to die, but he wasn’t ready to lose me. This was what he had feared all along.
Despite the icy winds and the wintry air, mingled with soft snowflakes, my skin was hot. Aimlessly I had been wandering through the streets of Paris. Like a restless spirit I haunted the empty alleyways, hoping to find shelter for the night. I was aware that I would find certain death, in whichever form. That night it was in form of handsome preternatural flesh.
I was in a daze, and I did not know whether it was because of this sudden delicious tiredness from the fight against the cold, or the control he had gained over me and my mind. He was tall and gaunt, a slender and elegant figure clad in black, standing out against the whiteness of the snow that was swirling around him. He began to dance, grasping an imaginary dance partner and turning around in circles, never letting his gaze slip away from mine. He was alluring.
I stepped forward, chuckling softly to myself as I watched him continue with his dance, holding out my hand so that he may dance with me instead of the cold air. He ceased in his steps and instantly froze in movement, watching me move closer towards him. He took hold of the wrist of my outstretched arm and pulled me closer, clasping my fragile mortal form against his own body. I gave over to him completely and let myself grow limp in his arms, weakening with each time I tried to open my eyes until I finally lost consciousness.
***
I awoke. I felt the fabric of velvet beneath my fingertips as I stretched them out. The silken covers of the pillows felt cool and smooth against my skin. I hadn’t properly opened my eyes yet, but why not? All this that I could feel and sense around and under me seemed so utterly marvellous and delicious that I thought I needn’t open my eyes at all to savour it. Curiosity prevailed--I opened my eyes. What splendour I beheld then! The candlelight was faint and yet it illuminated the entire room. The floor was of dark wood, and the walls—where they weren’t covered by works of art—were blood red. Heavy, black velvet curtains draped the high windows. The walls were decorated with immense paintings of unknown artists, and the figures and faces on them were twisted and grotesque. The bizarre expressions on the doll-like creatures were fascinating and disturbing at the same time. Then again, morbidity had always fascinated me.
I hadn’t realised that the room was cold before. Now I could feel every wisp of coldness on my skin. I looked down at myself and realised that I had been naked all along, sprawled over this gorgeously carved bed full of velvet and silk. I grabbed the covers and pulled them up to my chin, suddenly shivering with a mixture of fear and coldness. I did not dare to go over to the open window and close it where they snow was flying in and already forming a large puddle of water on the floor.
After due deliberation I surveyed the entire room once more, scanning it for anything striking, and what I beheld was out of proportion, yet it all fit in a way.
I could hear footsteps emanating from the hall, which I assumed it to be. My heart beat with such rapidity that I feared it would explode.
The door opened. He stood in the threshold and beheld me for what seemed an eternity, observing my every movement, my every breath I drew. He stepped into the room, a strange grin forming on his lips, the mischief in his eyes obvious. I did not move the whole time and lay there, still and seemingly frozen. Oddly enough I was not afraid of him, whereas I knew that that was what he expected me to be. He possessed a distinctive beauty, especially when his white skin was drenched with the golden candlelight. His black hair had a glossy shimmer to it and it framed his face quite nicely. His shapely lips parted for a very brief moment and I could see his fangs at that instant. It was then that I began to feel fear towards him. I did not know how powerful he was, or what he was capable of.
He reached out and took hold of the corner of the blanket with which I was covering my body, and he yanked at it. The cover fell to the floor and I lay there naked yet again. I didn’t even realise it at first. Smirking, he sat down next to me and ran his cold fingers over the warm skin of my arm, and then over my stomach to my hips. Something about him had me completely entranced. His distant gaze held me captive, as if he were holding me, never to let me escape again. I pulled away from him and crawled to the other end of the bed, trying to keep as far away as possible from him. But how could I stay away from him? Entirely impossible. I was not even able to keep my gaze off of him, then how would I be able to get loose from his immense and invisible embrace? Then he rose to his feet and walked to the wardrobe, closing the window on his way. He puzzled me. Such an enigma, I thought. He was completely incalculable.
I could hear him rummage through the wardrobe. It seemed that he was desperately searching for something, and all the while I had my eyes closed, clenching my teeth and digging my nails into the exquisitely soft mattress, as if that would keep him from returning to the bed and laying his cold hands on my skin. I didn’t open my eyes until he flung something of a soft material at me. It was a black and gorgeously embroidered dress. “Put it on,” he said, “you are cold and shivering. I don’t want the pleasure to end before it has even begun.” That voice! It echoed in my mind, it was so vivid and dark; intimidating. Menacingly he stepped closer to the bed and rested with one side against the wooden post. He appeared heedless to me. That strange grin formed on his lips again. “Well, child, what are you waiting for? It is the finest selection.”
Indeed, it was. It fit me like a glove. He had walked around the bed and was now studying me thoroughly, that glint of mischief in his eyes still present. He offered me his hand, and I wasn’t sure what to do then. I feared him like I had feared no other, but as if my instinct had told me to; I reached out to take his hand. He grasped it very gently, treating me as if I were a porcelain doll. A moment of seeming eternity passed and he did nothing and simply held me. Then he turned me around until I faced him once more, and his lips found mine in a passionate kiss. All fear vanished from me then and dissolved into the sudden romance. The kiss was rough and sultry, and I could feel his hands searching my body, slipping under the dress and caressing my skin. He lingered a moment before he pulled away from me, his fingers still running over my skin, sending chills down my spine. I wanted to know what he was thinking then; I wanted to know his intentions. And he knew perfectly well that he had gained full control over me now. He enjoyed it.
***
I was always waiting for the sun to rise, because for some reason I knew he could not endure the burning rays. But the sun never did rise and the darkness of the night seemed to last eternally. Oddly enough I found that darkness soothing, and with the atmosphere continually changing, the whole scene seemed to me more like a dream than anything else.
The sheer excitement of it all overpowered and extinguished the fear I had felt before, and now I never wanted for this to come to an end—I wanted to rest in the arms of Death forever.
I was aware by then of what he was, and what he could do, and what he wanted to do; but something in his eyes kept me at an almost safe distance from him, despite the intimacy we had just moments ago shared in our fatal embrace.
***
“Monsieur, you cannot resist me for much longer. I can see the hunger in your eyes,” I spoke to him in a fleeting whisper, and he drunk up my words as if they were blood.
Teasingly I turned and walked away, not far, naturally, but far enough to make him have to step after me. He reached out and took hold of my hair, wrapping it around his hand while leaning in and inhaling my scent. “Very difficult to resist, indeed,” he said in a barely audible voice. I opened my mouth to say something, and just as I did he pulled at my hair even tighter and pressed a single finger to my parted lips.
He tilted my head back; my neck was now dangerously close to his open mouth. If I had tried to struggle then it would have been to no avail.
I felt his moist and cool lips on my neck. I moaned, closing my eyes and loving the feel of his kiss. My body was tingling, and the images he sent to my mind were vivid and lush. His fangs only grazed my skin. I could not even feel the sting and burn of this new wound; I was too drunk on the images still. Then he pulled away immediately. Strands of his black hair fell into his face, giving him a bewildered look.
At first he appeared furious, and then his expression went entirely blank. He walked away from me as I reached out with my right hand to pull him back. I wanted to be devoured by these mesmerizing images once more; I wanted to feel his cold lips on my hot skin again, I wanted to feel his hair tickle my neck as is did when he bent down to me.
“Monsieur…,” I whispered, hardly managing to form a word. Without turning around he spoke: “I cannot harm you, child. You must get away from me.” His voice was quivering, as if he were about to either weep or yell. He then covered his face with both hands and shouted the same words at me; that I must get away from him, that he couldn’t possibly harm me.
“But, Monsieur, that feeling… I felt-,” I began to say, but he cut me off in the middle of the sentence with a deep growl, and coldly he answered: “I know exactly what you felt.”
He vanished into the darkness that lay behind the door. A black figure that fit perfectly into the shadows.
I remained in the house for several days and nights thereafter. He never came back.
All writing and art © Nina.