October 4, 2009; New York - New Girl in Town
The garden is lush and abundant with new growth. Vines cover the walls and the roses bloom in every color imaginable, their fragrance mixing with that of the apples on the tree and permeating the air. The tree, in the center of the room, is magnificent. Enormous and black, its branches reaching up and then outward where they crawl across the ceiling like fingers. Against the blackened wood, the apples shine a brilliant shade of red, like rubies surrounded by emerald leaves.
It would be beautiful if it weren't so terrifying.
She isn't here. I listen for her and strain my senses looking, but she doesn't come. The garden is silent as I walk toward the tree (rose blooms turning to face me as I pass), waiting. I call her name and receive no answer.
"She isn't here."
The voice behind me is soft and warm. I turn to face my visitor and she smiles, stepping toward me.
"It's alright," she says, her words gliding across the room like a warm breeze. "I'm not here to hurt you. Quite the opposite, in fact."
Her eyes sparkle the blue of the sea; her cheeks are flushed and pink. Her golden hair is tied in an artfully tousled chignon. She continues toward me. The roses turn away from her as she passes and the leaves on the tree close with her approach. When she is close I can feel her warmth reach out and envelop me. In spite of myself, I am comforted.
"You poor thing! Just look at you. She's got you terrified, hasn't she? Well don't you worry. I won't let her hurt you. You're safe now."
"I don't understand..." My voice sounds slurred and dumb, not like hers, which rings clear.
"You need rest," she says, taking my hands in hers. "That Isabel, she's been tormenting you so badly that you can't even think anymore. But that's all over now. I'll hold her at bay and you can rest."
She smiles again and I want to throw myself into her arms. Instead I am frozen in place, but she pulls me to her and I collapse into her embrace. She smells of clean salt breezes and fresh linen. My body convulses as I choke and sob while she coos gently, comforting me. I'm tired, and scared, but somehow she feels safe. A lighthouse marking the way home in a storm.
When I open my eyes we're out on the starboard deck. The boat rocks gently with the calm winds that carry across the water. A full moon shines brightly and illuminates the world in chades of blue and violet. It takes a moment to recognize the feelings of calm and safety - they haven't visited me in so long. She squeezes my hand and turns to walk away.
"Wait - I don't understand..."
Her smile warms me when she turns. "You can call me Claire."
And she's gone, carried away on the mist.
•••
Awake drips slowly down from above, sounds and sensations coming into dreary focus as though I'm swimming through honey. I open my eyes, expecting to be outside, but find myself in bed. The weight on my mind tells me that the sun isn't yet down, but I fight back sleep and scan the room. I'm alone.
It's alright, I'm here. Rest now.
It would be beautiful if it weren't so terrifying.
She isn't here. I listen for her and strain my senses looking, but she doesn't come. The garden is silent as I walk toward the tree (rose blooms turning to face me as I pass), waiting. I call her name and receive no answer.
"She isn't here."
The voice behind me is soft and warm. I turn to face my visitor and she smiles, stepping toward me.
"It's alright," she says, her words gliding across the room like a warm breeze. "I'm not here to hurt you. Quite the opposite, in fact."
Her eyes sparkle the blue of the sea; her cheeks are flushed and pink. Her golden hair is tied in an artfully tousled chignon. She continues toward me. The roses turn away from her as she passes and the leaves on the tree close with her approach. When she is close I can feel her warmth reach out and envelop me. In spite of myself, I am comforted.
"You poor thing! Just look at you. She's got you terrified, hasn't she? Well don't you worry. I won't let her hurt you. You're safe now."
"I don't understand..." My voice sounds slurred and dumb, not like hers, which rings clear.
"You need rest," she says, taking my hands in hers. "That Isabel, she's been tormenting you so badly that you can't even think anymore. But that's all over now. I'll hold her at bay and you can rest."
She smiles again and I want to throw myself into her arms. Instead I am frozen in place, but she pulls me to her and I collapse into her embrace. She smells of clean salt breezes and fresh linen. My body convulses as I choke and sob while she coos gently, comforting me. I'm tired, and scared, but somehow she feels safe. A lighthouse marking the way home in a storm.
When I open my eyes we're out on the starboard deck. The boat rocks gently with the calm winds that carry across the water. A full moon shines brightly and illuminates the world in chades of blue and violet. It takes a moment to recognize the feelings of calm and safety - they haven't visited me in so long. She squeezes my hand and turns to walk away.
"Wait - I don't understand..."
Her smile warms me when she turns. "You can call me Claire."
And she's gone, carried away on the mist.
•••
Awake drips slowly down from above, sounds and sensations coming into dreary focus as though I'm swimming through honey. I open my eyes, expecting to be outside, but find myself in bed. The weight on my mind tells me that the sun isn't yet down, but I fight back sleep and scan the room. I'm alone.
It's alright, I'm here. Rest now.