01-11-2009, 02:48 PM
Chapter 1
The car pulled into the foggy cemetery driveway at four-thirty in the morning. The gate was locked, but the young man parked anyway as no one would be around until at least seven. He and her liked to come here, the familiar place and familiar memories here comforted them; a stable, unchanging place in an unpredictable and disappointing world.
The moonlight was enough as it brightened and dimmed in the passing fog, so he turned off the lights that briefly illuminated the marble crypts of the mausoleum and they both got out. She pulled on her black leather jacket, and he put on his black trench coat as they walked to the side of the gate driveway to the pedestrian entrance; the black wrought iron gateway arch was always open. Vines had grown over the years, intertwined with the wrought iron bars and the leaves gone in the November fall season.
As the couple stepped softly on the sidewalk towards the moonlit mausoleum, a fleeting, flashing black against the gray fog above the great structure caught her attention: a bat, artfully twisting and turning after the moths that had been disturbed by their car headlamps. Their night time visit meant death for the moths and life for the bats. The plus and minus canceled out any guilt she felt for triggering the ancient struggle for existence.
He put his arms around her small waist as they reached the foot of the steps, and facing her, looked at her eyes. Even now, her eyes reflected color, but now they were deep and dark, her lips pale pastel lavender. On her fair face in the moonlight, they made her into an image of love that shone with a cold light, a goddess fit for the cemetery, a goddess that would make a man welcome death.
She put her arms inside his trench coat, and looked into his eyes, but his back was to the moonlight. Only darkness could be seen in his face, but she could feel the affection, his worship of her. His face came closer, his nose rubbing hers in a deliberate and prolonged search for her lips. He kissed her, breathing in her scent, feeling the cold fog as he inhaled. She was breathing in too, taking in his smell and the smell of the leaves decaying in the soil, the cold moisture in the fog, a thousand sensations at once. Her senses were overloaded trying to listen and speak at the same time in this elementary communication between man and woman.
He pulled her closer, wanting to devour her if he could. Breaking off the kiss, he kissed her cheek then bit her neck where it met her shoulders, she gasped at the sensation. Looking up she saw that the bat was flying towards the mausoleum under the great roof, and hung itself upside down, claws grasping a chipped edge inside. It stared back at her with eyes faintly reflecting twin dots of green.
Here they were safe from the world of the living. The cemetery was the only place where there were people with no problems. Sanctuary.
The night time sky was beginning to glow: sunrise was coming. Time for bats to sleep.
The car pulled into the foggy cemetery driveway at four-thirty in the morning. The gate was locked, but the young man parked anyway as no one would be around until at least seven. He and her liked to come here, the familiar place and familiar memories here comforted them; a stable, unchanging place in an unpredictable and disappointing world.
The moonlight was enough as it brightened and dimmed in the passing fog, so he turned off the lights that briefly illuminated the marble crypts of the mausoleum and they both got out. She pulled on her black leather jacket, and he put on his black trench coat as they walked to the side of the gate driveway to the pedestrian entrance; the black wrought iron gateway arch was always open. Vines had grown over the years, intertwined with the wrought iron bars and the leaves gone in the November fall season.
As the couple stepped softly on the sidewalk towards the moonlit mausoleum, a fleeting, flashing black against the gray fog above the great structure caught her attention: a bat, artfully twisting and turning after the moths that had been disturbed by their car headlamps. Their night time visit meant death for the moths and life for the bats. The plus and minus canceled out any guilt she felt for triggering the ancient struggle for existence.
He put his arms around her small waist as they reached the foot of the steps, and facing her, looked at her eyes. Even now, her eyes reflected color, but now they were deep and dark, her lips pale pastel lavender. On her fair face in the moonlight, they made her into an image of love that shone with a cold light, a goddess fit for the cemetery, a goddess that would make a man welcome death.
She put her arms inside his trench coat, and looked into his eyes, but his back was to the moonlight. Only darkness could be seen in his face, but she could feel the affection, his worship of her. His face came closer, his nose rubbing hers in a deliberate and prolonged search for her lips. He kissed her, breathing in her scent, feeling the cold fog as he inhaled. She was breathing in too, taking in his smell and the smell of the leaves decaying in the soil, the cold moisture in the fog, a thousand sensations at once. Her senses were overloaded trying to listen and speak at the same time in this elementary communication between man and woman.
He pulled her closer, wanting to devour her if he could. Breaking off the kiss, he kissed her cheek then bit her neck where it met her shoulders, she gasped at the sensation. Looking up she saw that the bat was flying towards the mausoleum under the great roof, and hung itself upside down, claws grasping a chipped edge inside. It stared back at her with eyes faintly reflecting twin dots of green.
Here they were safe from the world of the living. The cemetery was the only place where there were people with no problems. Sanctuary.
The night time sky was beginning to glow: sunrise was coming. Time for bats to sleep.
