I rolled fitfully in my sleep, my bedcovers wadded in a heap on the floor. Glowing eyes taunted me, danced about me in the darkness. I spun about, the hem of my brilliantly golden gown swirling about my ankles. I stood in a glaring spotlight, the only source of illumination in the caverness void. Frantically I glanced about me, spinning this way and that as footsteps echoed ominously from different directions, as if my mysterious tormenter were pacing about me in ever tightening circles.
All I could see in all directions was inky blackness, no matter how hard I stared into the dark. Now and then there was a flash of green, a smooth jade green that glinted with genius, cunning, seduction...and a touch of madness.
The sounds ceased and I stilled, barely drawing breath, my ears straining to listen to the absolute night. The complete silence was heavy and opressing, and after a few moments of quiet, my heart began to pound harder, filling my head. Anything was better than the terrifying silence. At that moment a voice broke out of the darkness to greet me. A beautiful, melodious, and sensual voice. It beckoned me...called to me, but I wasn't quite sure of the words. The voice calmed me. My frantic breathing evened out and I closed my eyes slowly, hypnotized by the wonderful sound that caressed my ears. As I listened it grew louder, more distinct. Yet I could not pick out words. My entranced mind struggled to place it...and then I realized that it was a foreign dialect. French. Yes, that was correct. Soft, flowing French from the tongue..of whom?
The lilitng melody died away slowly and drowned me in silence once more, and I slowly opened me eyes. A masked face stared back. I screamed...and sat bolt upright in my bed. Disoriented, my eyes flitted back and forth, taking in my surroundings. Slowly, I inhaled. A dream...just a dream.
I had been having these nightmares for weeks. No...not nightmares. Not quite.There was much pleasure in the alluring voice, the most magical voice I had ever heard. But there was the darkness...darker than any night, deep and soundless. It was chilling. More than chilling, it was horrifying. And those eyes. They were sensual and passionate and I felt drawn to them, lethally attracted. There was extreme intelligence there, and wisdom, an understanding of things most humans chose to ignore. Understanding of the heart, of passion and beauty. But they also had a crazed quality, a deep-set anger, and an unsatisfied hunger. A danger shone out of their depths, and I knew they dared me. Those eyes spoke to me, casting their spell and demanding my obedience, while at the same time coaxing me. They were gentle, yet harsh all in one. I felt trapped by them, like a bird in a cage, but at the same time my soul screamed for me to obey, yearned to obey, to answer a resounding yes to every command.
I shook my head. This was nonsense. I had never had dreams so vivid before. What was happening? I felt a twinge of pain in my head. Damn headaches, I thought, reaching for the advil I kept on my bedside table. I downed a few and slid back under the covers, humming softly to myself the strange song that belonged to the mask. In moments I was asleep.
The next morning I rolled from my bed and padded to the kitchen for a steaming cup of coffee. I sipped it distractedly, staring out the window at the soft, powdery snow that created a blanket over the outdoor world. Eyes danced through my mind and I had a sudden desire to draw. I was a professional artist and I was suddenly inspired by the haunting, shadowed face that inhabited my dreams.
I made my way to my draft table, clearing the surface of my latest project, a portrait of a rodeo cowboy, and drew out a fresh sheet of paper. Throughout the day I drew, the image flowing from my mind as if by magic. Generally I used refrences to create my artwork, but on this day my fingers knew where to go and what strokes to use. I even pulled out my paints, something I wasn't too familiar with, as I preferred the erasable feature of pencils.
As the sun began to sink once more I drew back from the finished work, gazing at it critically. It shocked me. That face stared back at me from the paper, as real as it had seemed in my dreams. The eyes blazed out of a partially covered visage, the white mask that hid the right half molded and creased to look somewhat angry. I chuckled as I considered the painting. Damn sexy though, I thought. I think I'll force a mask like that on my next boyfriend.
I stood from my seat, glancing outside. Was it really that late? I'd been at my work all day. I sighed, wondering if I could even make a profit on the spontaneous piece. Oh well, sometimes I needed to create just for myself. I yawned and stretched. Time once more to hit the sack. I luxuriated in a hot shower before slipping into my bedclothes, choosing a daring silk piece of lingerie. It had always been my favorite, red and soft, and it smelled wonderfully. In no time I was asleep.
Tonight the dream was different. I stood alone once more, and the familiar darkness surrounded me. But this time it wasn't a void. Solid wood creaked beneath my feet and I realized I was standing on a stage. I could see the outlines of the theater's hundreds of velvet backed chairs spread out before me. My gown this night was exotic and bare shouldered, unlike the victorian style I so often sported in these nightime jaunts to another reality.
I turned slowly. It wasn't so dark as before, I could make out objects...and shadows. The stage seemed empty and I paced to the side, reaching out to touch the soft curtains. They were smooth and velvety under my fingers...and singed. Had there been a fire here? I didn't have time to contemplate this however, as something moved quickly behind me. I jumped, swirling about to gaze into the shadows. Nothing stirred. I held my breath, listening intently. Where was the mysterious stranger who sang to me? I longed to hear his voice once more.
As I stared hard into the dark, searching and listening, I felt something graze my shoulder, and it caused me to gasp sharply in shock. I froze. Whomever it was touched my neck softly, running a leather glove across the ridge of my chin and brushing back my curls. A second hand moved to touch my waist and I could suddenly feel a man at my back, his body pressed up against mine and his breath in my ear. He had melted out of the blackness so quickly I had no time to react. I felt chills run up my spine as he caressed the side of my face. If I turned, would I see those eyes?
My body was tensed, afraid, and my heart pounded uncontrollably in my chest. In response to my discomfort, the stranger ran his hand gently down my side so that he held my waist to his body, and I shivered, both out of pleasure and fear. I could hear the fluttering of my pulse and the slow, calm breaths of the stranger, but nothing else. Slowly, a song began, a hum that flooded my brain, and it took me a moment to realize it was the man who was creating the beautiful music. His voice grew stronger, louder, and I recognized the french melody that lulled me into a state of calm in each and every one of my nightmares. His arms moved to encircle my body completely, holding me tightly and securely. The message was mixed. His embrace said that he would protect me from the darkness, that I need not be alone, that his music would save me from the terror that might otherwise capture my mind in the still loneliness of the night. Yet it seemed posessive as well. You are mine, he seemed to say, with his gentle, yet firm hold upon me. I was both apprehensive and content. It mingled in my mind and confused me.
An intense pain began to fill my head rather suddenly, drowning out the lullaby of the Frenchman. I fought to dispell the agony as it grew stronger, straining to catch the song once again, to feel its entrancing powers. In terror I spun about to face my stalker, staring into the eyes of a madman. His lips still moved, his song continued, but I could hear nothing. I stared into his intense eyes, his fierce gaze boring into me. As in all of my dreams I began to back away, to attempt an escape. This time the man held onto me, refusing to allow me to run. His arms were still about me and they tightened opressively as I struggled, flailing my arms and pushing against his broad chest.
His stunning jade orbs seemed angry. Angry that I was trying to leave him, to disobey. Rage flared up like a fire within their depths and I shrieked in terror...and pain. The pain was ripping through my head like a stampede of elephants. I thrashed my head from side to side in agony. The stranger, the apparition...the ghost, grasped my chin firmly with one gloved hand and forced me to look at him. I stared, tears streaming down my cheeks. His gaze softened, coaxing me, attempting to comfort me, pleading with me to trust him. I melted in his grip, ceasing to struggle. My mind screamed yes at him.
Yet the pain wouldn't leave me, it grew worse. I reached up with my hands as he released my face, gripping the sides of my head and squeezing my eyes shut. I could feel the stranger stroking my hair reassuringly, but it did not ease the pain. I slumped forward against him, head on his chest, weeping and staining his handsome bronze vest with tears. He cradled me against him and sang to me, and as numbness settled over me I could hear the words...and I could understand. Blackness came to take me and the last image I saw was a woman sighing her last, her hand falling limply to her side as she closed her eyes in the sweet release of death.