A/N: Hi everyone! I'm happy to say I'm working on this story again. Slowly but surely. This chapter was important to write, hence why it took me so long to write it. Hopefully it answers some questions for you. Obviously I have to leave a few things in the dark, otherwise it would spoil the fun.
I also want to say thank you to all of you have kept up interest in this story. I know long breaks between chapters isn't fun to endure. So if you have read and reviewed this story, and especially if you still are reading and reviewing it, you have my utmost gratitude. I intend to finish this story. I hope you'll stick with me as I do ^^
Thank you!
Reviews are appreciated! I love knowing what you think.
It began with a song. A music box waltz, softly playing its twinkling dance against the darkness. It called to Sarah from somewhere in the distance. But there was endlessness between them. Dipped in the nothing of the dream void, Sarah knew not but the music, and the terrifying fear that it might suddenly stop playing.
Thoughts did not reach her here, for in dreams they never do. In this moment, in this place, Sarah found herself completely untouched, simply set in a cordial drift where only observation and feeling surrounded her. And for this, she was relieved.
Gradually the song grew louder. It felt to Sarah as if she were moving forward somehow, for as the volume changed so did her surroundings. Warping itself into a more comprehendible setting the void too was gently pulled away, stretched into a confined and channeled space. Sarah became aware that she was no longer free to pursue any direction, but was now allowed only one of two ways: forward or backward. Still the darkness remained.
Fearing the loss of the music, she went ahead . Sarah slowly became aware that she was walking; no longer gliding, but still not precisely in control of her actions.
She was as much an observer in this place as she was a part of it.
The decisions her body made became clear only upon the moment they reacted. If she tried to think about what she had done, Sarah would feel assured that she had acted deliberately, even as every current action and reaction surprised her in its direction.
Light appeared. As raw as light can be.
At first there was no color, just basic shape and outline. The world was sculpted in shadow and softened in afterglow. Sarah got the sense that this was how it had been in the beginning. How it still existed in the mysterious in-between, and how it would exist after living awareness died and only memory and remorse remained for those left to wander.
She was wandering now, down a winding corridor of memory. The music grew louder the closer she neared the end of the passage. And as the sound intensified, the details of space slowly sketched themselves into being.
Sarah recognized this door, and the next. She didn't have to open them to know what lay behind. As her body passed each threshold her comprehension would grow. One held the memory of a young girl who wore her hair in braids, tight and hard against her scalp. The other showed long days working in a field, sweating alongside her brothers, her hands cut deep by the persistent work. Sarah's body felt weary with the memory, but her heart grew strong when it was filled with the songs they would sing, helping to pass the hours under that burning Louisiana sun.
One door was filled with books, knowledge gifted to her within the cool air of an elegant home. The house was not hers, and the man who taught her frightened her equally. But he called her pretty names, and gave her nice things to wear. After this door, she never saw the fields again.
Some doors were filled with dark things, memories that as soon as they returned, settled upon her soul as familiar chains, heavy and gilded. Her old self would have longed to leave them forgotten. White faces surrounded her during these times, and she shined and bowed to each of them, fearing what would happen if she ever let her smile fall.
Then there was door that showed her something new. A young man, met one sunny afternoon under the alms of graceful oak that saw fit to provide her shelter from the heat of long run through a long afternoon.
He was kind, and intelligent, and curious. He was not like other white men. For starters, she did not fear him, not from the first moment she saw him. His name was Edward Gracey, and somehow, he was different.
The young master courted her behind one door, defended her honor behind another. These memories shone with respect and understanding. And from his kindred devotion, that saw the intellectual charm of a woman, before he saw the exotic beauty of an object, she found that she could allow herself to love him, without fear of trickery, ownership or manipulation. It was the first time in her life, that she had truly felt she was free.
Door after door revealed the hardship of this freedom. But no matter how frightening or dangerous the memories became, Edward had always remained by her side, enduring the same hatred and prejudice that was cast against herself. The young man's wealth and stature helped, and though many hated him for it, he was able to present this young woman, who he claimed to be in every right his equal, before his father and the figures of society. It was a great scandal, and one they were foolish to ignore. But these doors were cloaked in love, young love, that knew only passion and truth, and somehow managed to blind the lovers from the storm of enemies their love would provoke.
By this time her journey had brought Sarah to a state of almost complete awareness. The dream path caught up with Edward's haunting tale and with it, the music box and the last room in which it lie in waiting.
Sarah opened the door and walked inside.
A woman stood with her back to her. She wore a golden dress, and her hair was pinned up in elegant curls. Though she could not see, Sarah knew the woman held the music box. She could feel the weight of it, resting in her own hands.
In a way, it was her. In a way, it was not.
Elizabeth turned and changed the way in which Sarah saw herself. She could see through both their eyes, simultaneously looking at Sarah looking at Elizabeth. She felt her reaction to witnessing the reaction of the other. She felt the drum of two hearts beating, the swell of two bodies breathing, the completeness of two halves of a soul meeting symbiotically as one.
It was simply and splendidly, euphoric.
"Are you… who I used to be?" Sarah asked.
"In a way." Elizabeth answered "In a way you were always a part of me. Perhaps you were my stronger half. Perhaps that is why you lived on after I died. But that is not important now."
"It's not?" Sarah asked, "What could be more important than this? I need to understand."
The song on the music box was winding down.
"Your understanding will come with closure. Closure is what's important now. I am not at ease. I am lost, and I'm almost out of time."
"What does that mean?" Sarah asked stepping anxiously closer.
"You have to help me Sarah. He needs to know the truth."
"The truth about what?"
"Watch carefully in what happens next. It will happen quickly and it will frighten you. You'll want to close your eyes, want to look away. But no matter what happens you must watch."
"Please calm down." Sarah pleaded, wanting desperately to still the fear and anxiety that she felt in Elizabeth. "We have time, just explain to me what you mean."
But the music on the box had almost finished. Elizabeth gripped it firmly in her hands, causing Sarah to feel the sharp corners dig into her flesh.
"Look at his face, remember his face Sarah! You must tell Edward the truth. Only then can I find solace in death. If I don't, I'll be lost forever."
"And I?" Sarah asked.
"I don't know. We are joined, Sarah. I am a part of you now as you were a part of me. But you were always the stronger one." She spoke the words, heavy with reflection, "I can't hold you back anymore…" Suddenly the music stopped. The room was plunged as if in icy water, slowed, frozen, dark and endless. Fear was rushing in toward them with the darkness, screaming, tearing, consuming.
Elizabeth reached out and laid her hand upon Sarah.
"You must not fail as I did! Watch Sarah! Remember his face! Remember the man who killed…" But she couldn't finish for the contact of their skin had pulled Sarah far away.
In a painful burst of flashes Sarah was thrown into the eyes of a memory. Every blink tore her from the past and she fought to keep her eyes open, looking as she had been instructed; every passing second fighting desperately to pull her back.
She, Elizabeth, was in the library.
A masked man, familiar and overbearing offered her a goblet of wine.
Metal touched her lips. Her throat swallowed it down.
He began to speak.
God! It hurt! Why did it hurt to be here? Open your eyes!
He was toasting her. But it was vile! It was cruel! And suddenly she was afraid.
Elizabeth was shaking, then she was burning. Burning from the inside.
She couldn't breathe. She fell to the sofa. The man leered over her.
I can't anymore. I'm dying! God I'm dying! …Poison. He's killing her! Open your eyes!
The words hurt more than the toxin. And still they spilled from his lips.
He reached for his mask.
Then the face. That terrible face!
The thin lips spread slowly apart, splitting his skin in a twisted, evil grin.
Him! It's him! God-I I can't see this anymore. Take it away! Take that face away!
He stared at her till the very end.
Watching and smiling, unblinking as the poison burned her away.
Elizabeth's life was finally ripped from her. Her body died. The pain was gone. But the image of that face… the sunken eyes, the fractured skin, the smile that delivered her into the hands of death…that image remained.
The dream was over.
