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Date Posted: 12:16:31 05/25/00 Thu
Author: Anna
Subject: Testing long post

I watch you. And I can smell your perfume from here. So succulently sweet. No no, not some fabricated scent those vapid women wear. I'm a man of simpler tastes, and yours is the aroma of life. Oh, how I long for that.

From where I hide and watch I feel the pulse of your heart. It pounds through my already aching head, with a desperately persistant beat. Like huge oriental drums it repeats in cadence and sends echoes shivering throughout my cold body. But still I watch and suffer.

How lovely! You are perfection on this eve of spring, and fruitlessly I reach out my hand as though I could grab you from here, daring to risk being caught as the wan moonrays fall upon my flesh.

You skip and dance across the ballroom, as the gentle whispers made by the folds of your satin gown go unheard by all but me. The lively rythm of the saltarello, performed by your friends and family as they turn about the room, celebrating your entry into their social lives; I cannot hear it. But they follow that beat, almost religiously, and they seek to bring you into their dance.

But I have watched, I have been witness, and I have waited. And now, tonight, as the air fairly bursts with a surplus of human excitement, I do so again. Only more eagerly.. anxiously.

The fickle, pale rays from Luna barely manage to shine through the open archways from the balconies. And yet your skin, your beautiful, milky white skin outshines all others and gathers those rays to you, as though that celestial body orbits only your existence. How soft your flesh must be; untainted. Hidden, I have seen the waters of many hot baths cascade over it's surface, washing away lathered bubbles that I envied as though they were rival lovers. Even the tendrils of your own light, golden hair I envy. For daily they caress you, as I have not; and nightly they surround you as I cannot.

I have felt the featherlight softness of those tresses. Yes I've dared to be that close, and only upon one occasion. A night much like this one, it was. Though the moon was not as large, and the climate not so fair. I stepped into your unlit chamber from the cold evening, and even as I closed the curtained doors from the balcony I could see the uncovered skin of your arms raise with a chill. How could you possibly understand the longing I felt to soothe you from that cold? I am glad that you cannot. I would not wish this pain upon the one I have come to guard with care. And so, with silent bitterness, the only course available was for me to gently pull up the coverlet to bring you warmth. As every inch of the soft, downy fabric touched more of your skin, I clenched my jaw and wished that it was mine own skin covering yours. The agony!

I was barely able to suppress a groan of physical pain at the intensity of my need to touch you, and thus with abruptness I let go of the blanket to let it settle across your shoulders. Still sleeping deeply, you did not even notice as I then carelessly brought my fingers to just above the flesh of one still-bared shoulder and held there a moment. I shook. My pale fingers trembled, and still I remained in control. You were so intensely beautiful as you lay there, somehow unaware of the intensity of my emotions though it felt to me the very air of the room would crack with it's force. As anticlimactic as it seems, I know, I then simply brushed my finger tips across a few strands of hair that were left tousled near your shoulder, and as the short caress ended I somehow managed to drag myself away from you without even another look, even as the hair I touched turned brittle and white, and broke off where my skin touched it.

I had looked enough already, and this over 4 seasons ago! I wanted to touch, I wanted you to -know- of my presence. And I wanted you to revel in it as I would. And so I left, and did not return for many days, until my addiction and worry became too much for me to bear. But now, after a full turning of the seasons and an end to another cold season, I wait here. Still only watching. But the time is near, I can feel it.

I think, perhaps the dancers that share the ballroom with you can also feel it. There seems to be an extra gaiety about them. Their steps are faster, the smiles are bigger and the laughter louder. Laughter! I hear yours above all, as ever. If your heart's rythm is an undeniable drum beat that invades every corner of my mind, your laughter is a gentle melody that I willingly allow to enter and fill my soul.

Lost in my reverie, it takes an extra moment to realize that someone nears. The smell is unfamiliar and I am angered that my peaceful viewing is interrupted. And then, the fool, the barbarous over dressed fool of a man has the fortitude to step in front of me, blocking my view of you. And you were smiling.. smiling! and now I have missed it. The pretty curve of your pink hued lips as they curl in happiness, and then the brightness of your pale blue eyes joins in the festivities and completes the look. And even though I have never been the cause of such merriment, I imagine each smile is for me. Every one of them.

But now with anger I realize this one has been lost to me, and all because of this undeserving oaf in front of me. He is still without a clue as I reach out and wrap my hands about his neck, closing my fingers tightly to cut off his air. He attempts to call out for help but finds himself unable as I crush his windpipe, in anticipation of that weakness and his foolish desire to live. Still holding him tightly, I drag him back through the bush I have been using as cover from those within. The short scuffling noise goes unheard amongst all the celebrating from the ballroom. I am feeling quite vicious this evening, perhaps the result of so much waiting, the awful, timeless waiting. And also I do not wish to waste even one more minute of precious time on anything other than the sweet object of my continued affections. With a quick snap to the side, this man's life is forfeit and I discard him to the side, where he slumps, dead already as he falls to the ground, his hand only barely seen from behind the thick bushes.

Ignoring the urge to let loose a snarl of victory, I turn quickly back to look for you. What have missed? I wish a thousand of the foulest curses in the afterlife upon this dead man for each little movement of yours that I might have not seen: brushing your fingertips through your hair lightly to smooth it back behind one ear or lifting the hem of your skirts daringly high, inches above slender ankles as you dance. I lose myself temporarily in the mental pictures derived from these thoughts.

For a moment I imagine that 'tis only an illusion of a long desirous mind, that causes me to imagine I hear your soft voice drawing nearer to me. But then I am pulled from my reverie and I see that yes... yes! you come closer! The shadows are mine however, and neither you nor the man who escorts you can see me. He leads you to the bench on which I have sat many nights, attempting to convince myself not to once again climb up to your balcony and sit on the railing to watch you sleep. However the stone surface of the bench is cold and even the sight of you is warmer than none, and climb I would.

Look at him! The simpering, posturing fool! He tries so vainly to be the gallant as he takes ample enough time touching your hand to guide you to a place to sit. You are led by his false ways though, I can see that. Sadly I see that. Their society has almost clutched you, but not yet so closely that I cannot free you. Oh how I want you to be free. And yet I wait here, lurking behind the bushes, as close to you awake as I have ever been and still I feel this cage of waiting surround me. Why do I not declare myself now!

With silent despair I know I cannot; your escort would call out and many would rush forth. Seeing their apprehension and fear you would join them as they moved away. And I would never be able to watch you again, as they would be sure to guard you much more closely than now.

He dares lean forward and whisper to you? I hear his false words, spoken in nasal tones that declare his almost incestuous, high brow lineage to me almost more than the overly fancy cut of his clothing. They mean nothing and perhaps in your eyes I see that you understand this. Good! They have not reached their claws fully into your soul yet, and I have hope.

Suddenly the simperer stands and with a foppishly gallant bow he takes your leave to bring you a drink. Without warning we are alone. You and I, at the edge of this garden. There were two others, long ago, who in their own fashion were at the edge of a garden. It was a beginning, and I believe this can be one too. No hesitation now, not after so much time spent preparing. As silent as night's breath I move around the bush and sit beside you as your head is turned to look through the archways at the dancers. You smile, for me as always, but then the cold touches you once more and you rub your bare arms with small graceful hands.

"Oh how lovely you are, on this night, as every night before that I have watched".

You turn quickly, covering your mouth in surprise, and only then do I realize I have given voice to my thoughts and you have heard them. I cannot let you call out, for then all is lost! Quickly I reach out to pull you near with one strong arm and the other to keep you silent. Your eyes, those pale blue eyes, look at me in fear as they widen and I feel you trembling. Why? or why like this? By all the darkness let it not be like this that you first look upon me. And yet the adaptability and almost fearlessness that I have come to enjoy watching in you takes over, and as you see I cause you no harm you relax slightly, taking a moment to look over my countenance. Not a fair one really, but handsomely rugged I have been told in my youth, though it was admittedly been long past that I have had occasion to hear such comments.

For all the smiles you have given me, and for this moment of acceptance of my presence in yours, for the first time in seasons uncountable by most men, I smile also. Our gazes meet as though in some impossible dream or story woven by those who foolishly believe love truly exists; locked and anticipating. I release you, and still you are there, not running from me, but finally and gloriously moving nearer to me! Perhaps the bards speak the truth after all for never was there a moment of such true beauty as to see you bathed in a cloud of moonrays, soaked into your gleaming hair like a nimbus of light. The drumbeat of your heart all but drowns out any other sensation as you come into the circle of my arms, your head tilted upwards, your bright eyes still fixed upon my dark ones.

No more waiting. No more watching. You will be mine now.

Dipping my head to your stylishly bare neck I wait no more as promised. As your skin is pierced and I taste your oh so sweet blood after all this time, I fear that all of existence will surely end for the perfect moment has now been experienced. And yet still more is to come as unexpectedly you do not balk at my attentions. You cling, you clutch to me as though you have also been waiting for this. How can it be! Oh my dear one, sweet one, can this be in truth reality and not some deluded dream? Your life, your essence flows into me, and I wish to stay like this, experiencing you to the fullest, for an eternity of forevers.

But what jest is this? You begin to pull away, whimpering and muttering and pointing at the garden floor, where the lifeless hand still sticks out of the bushes. No! No he is nothing! I am your father now, I am your lover. You need not concern yourself with his death for all will be death once you join me. No don't pull away, after all this agonizing time I -will- not let you go. Your nectar fills me with what I have needed for so long, I must continue to drink. Please let me continue to drink, for it saves me from the depths of lonely madness. You struggle still somewhat and therefore I must drink more to quell your fears, yes that will make you understand that all you have is mine. I have claimed it after so many nights of patience. I deserve it!

Yes, yes.. now you begin to calm. All will be well, you will see. Your light will brighten my dark travels forevermore. You will shine still when those who have sought to bring you to them will dull, then fade, then crack and blow away like dust. You will be so much more.

But now you do not respond? My light! What is amiss? I pull away from this blissful drink to see your eyes have faded and almost closed, you are unconcious! Your skin is so cold.. where is your warmth? I need your warmth. Your cheeks no longer rosy, but now like porcelain to the touch. Oh what have I done!

A gasp from the edge of the balcony. The simperer has returned with your drinks and now he sounds the alarm as he sees me, the stranger, holding your limp body. I long to stay and defend you as my own but I must flee.. for they might catch me and we would surely then both be lost to their corrupted ways. A pain more acute than any other before fills me, as I gently settle you to lay across the stone bench. I long to taste of you once more even so shortly after the first, and yet all I can do is drink in the view of you as I go. Your hair spilled over the edge of the bench, the end of the golden strands mixing with the dewy grass as it falls there, your eyes now fully closed, and your lovely pink lips parted slightly as though you might wake and speak to me at any moment. But the darkness that surrounds you indicates otherwise.

What have I done...

_____________________________

I watch you once more. They dance again, though 'tis a slower step, and they take care to each have their turn. I am still jealous of their attentions, for even though you are oblivious to their false niceties, I can sense their petty thoughts from where I hide. Once again I am near, but the shadows hold me safely. The simperer takes his turn and then falls back to the edge of the crowds, giving an applause-worthy performance as though he is the rebuked suitor who lost his chance unfairly. He never had one, I know you'd not have fallen for one of his ilk.

Still among them all you are the brightest. They could never shine at all compared to you. They know this, they know that even as you remain still among them, you are so much more than they could ever aspire to be. And then they leave, for their society must go on. And we are once again left alone. You and I, and the shadows that I stand in.

I hear a booming noise, yet 'tis not the sound of your heart beat. I can only wish for that now. No.. they are closing and sealing the massive stone doors. These four strong walls that surround us, are like many others that have held members of your family for centuries. Yes, completely alone, and all is dark. The scent on the air is sweet, yet not that of your blood. Something more cloying, and sickly.

You lay upon the large stone slab, in the white dress that you will never dance in, never wear to a celebration. Your small hands lay on your chest where they placed them, and entwined somehow about your fingers are wildflowers which will soon wither and turn to dust.

There is no light here, there is no warmth, yet I will stay here. They have shut us in. I could not now leave even should I wish. We are alone. And I cannot still bring myself to touch you. I doubt that I ever will. As ever, I will simply stay here to guard you. There is nothing else, really, for me to do.

I watch you.

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Replies:

wonderful ! -- Ghost, 13:03:52 05/26/00 Fri