The original work is not my idea. The characters of Helena and Lois are borrowed from Elizabeth Jolly while the expanded character of the editor is my own creation.
'Here, take them' grunted the normally shy and reserved man as he shoved the stack of lost lives at the creature before him. The fragile mould encrusted papers fluttered at the ignominy. The pneumatic arm stretched out to grasp at the written lives, oily marks staining their surface as the arm retracted, dumping the couple in an undignified heap on the black polished desk.
"Thank you ever so much Mr Rusk" smirked the parchment coloured being before him, toying with the faded scarlet ribbon holding papers together. Even the dull fabric draped across the shiny hand highlighted the lack of colour, the lack of vibrancy, the lack of life in the owner of the appendage. "But I must say" it continued, sneering at the offender with translucent acrylic eyes the colour and texture of a frozen peeled grape. "I must say that this will make no difference, I read that sorry attempt at a novel and I don't see why I have to read this filth as well. What? Do you think that these letters are going to change my opinion of that pathetic book? Make it all come rushing back? This will change nothing. That 'book' is not what the people want, and I know what the people want."
Mr Rusk frantically avoided looking at the nightmare, opting instead to madly trail his eyes across the gloomy cavern, devoid of light and colour. "Yes, yes you know best" croaked the defenceless man, making one last attempt to rally himself as something dropped wetly in the dark background. "So I'll just take them back then, shall I? The families will be wanting…"
'No, I think I'll read over them anyway' interjected the being, catching the edge of hope in the man's voice, "could provide some entertainment." "Please!" cried the silent man, but it was too late, it had already begun to read.
"…'there must be no letters, not even thinking,' I said once to a young woman with whom I was very much in love. 'I shall not come after you', I told her then. And I meant it. I did not write and I did not travel across continents to follow her. We never saw each other again, though nothing could stop me from thinking about her."
(To Lois)
I am so sorry.
I had to do it, we both knew we could never be together Forever.
Please forgive me.
I have sinned.
You are my Goddess. My dream-like, cloudy, feline fantasy. Every moment was pure bliss.
But life and passion is never Forever.
My heart burns as an offering for salvation that I shall never receive.
"…the relationship between the two women is a tender one with healing qualities. Helena realises they must separate. She knows that she cannot keep Lois with her Forever. The life on the lonely farm, especially in the harsh summer, is not right for Lois. Helena is afraid of the bitterness and the unhappiness of the years ahead. She decides that Lois should go away…"
(To Helena)
Why?
You always said we could never be together Forever.
Why?
I always played the sheep, always went along with you. I never assumed it was an 'act of mercy'. I though It was just a part of you denying yourself. Denying yourself happiness. Denying what you truly are, being just what they believe you to be.
Why?
Why should you feel so nervous? Why should you feel like that?
You have been you, Forever.
Why did you leave me then?
I do not want to be alone and cold Forever.
I cry a libation to our pomegranates everyday.
Hoping
Hoping you will emerge.
"Every morning Helena pours a little water carefully, a libation, she calls it, into the tins and pots to sustain her little pomegranates and the myrtle and the rosemary…The water stays sparkling to the brim of every pot for a few seconds and then disappears into the grey sand…"
(To Lois)
Incomplete
I am not whole without you. I am not me, mine or theirs.
I am pure agony.
Every breath without you brings searing pain into my lungs, fanning the ever present hell within my collapsed heart.
For Hell is the absence of God, and I am without my sanctuary.
I burn for you Forever my Goddess, you will never be alone. Water will never quench my thirst, my hunger.
Nothing will fill the void.
" When I go through the gate and am actually on my land I feel no harm can ever come to me…"
(To Helena)
Was
It me?
Was
It the baby?
Were we ever truly happy?
I am Forever crying to our seeds. They are dying.
I am sinking
Deep into the void.
I am so cold, always so cold.
Even the paper child is preparing to leave me. And I stare with square white eyes at a world devoid of sounds and awash with tears.
Flooding with silent water, and always so cold.
"But I didn't want her near me. 'Its too hot for that,' I said crossly. 'I'm too big! And I hate being pregnant, so big! It's awful Helena! How can you think it's anything special! I hate it, I hate the baby. I hate this hot wind! I hate everything!' I burst out crying…"
(To Lois)
Never
Blame yourself, my flowered idol.
Never
Have any doubts.
Move on with your perfect child. Your pale, papery passport to a fresh pure world without me.
I see flames licking against buildings, turning cool water into loud dirty steam.
Roaring clouds of amber swallow me Forever, carrying me to my future without redemption.
Dragging me to fiery Hell while you ascend to Heaven.
"Now I have no wish at all to go back to the farm. I am remembering all over again my return after I had taken her to the airport. I had never seen the farm before as I saw it then. The bald paddocks stretched into a dismal distance. The sheds and even the house itself seemed deserted, grey as if in perpetual twilight, empty beyond belief, without her."
(To Helena)
Submerged
In pools of water, waves licking at my neck.
The ever enveloping chill. Not as spark of warming redemption to bring life to my mottled body, now lumpy and crone like.
I yearn to once again hear the crunching of stones, to hear the sounds of your arrival.
But the thunderous silence stabs ice through my ears, cutting me off from my sanctuary.
Submerged
In my silent sorrow
Submerged
In my tears
My daily libation has failed to bring you back.
"The sound of a car turning slowly and pausing and then turning again on the gravel path round the Goddess reminds Lois of the same sound which she heard often at night when Helena was returning to the farm. Now of course she is not with Helena as they have parted Forever…"
(To Lois)
Burning.
I can not come back, can never walk toward you again.
Can never reach salvation.
Burning in the fire of my melodious guilt, the crackling flames smoulder at my Elysium.
I will never forget, but I must move on.
Before the flames claim me.
"Daughter of Elysium. We approach with hearts aflame
O' Goddess your sanctuary.
It's Schilller's Ode to Joy."
(To Helena)
Drowning
In my guilt.
The icy waves envelop me, I sink without struggle.
My watery libation will never be enough.
Memory stopped rereading the forgotten book as the reams of unposted letters slipped from the editor's starchy, razor-edged hands and flowed onto the ground, lying as motionless as their authors and the recipients they never reached.
Vignettes of the Women's lives flashed before the editor's vacant eyes.
Moonlight slicing across entwined bodies.
Water sluicing from heaven onto fresh green sticks, Sparkling suspended upon the crisp, verdant growth.
The sound of a gunshot echoing booming across greying fields.
The same fields elongating, starching into barren nothingness, Great chasms marring the porcelain land.
An empty bathroom. The sound of heavy liquid drops echoing across the warm silence. Providing a monotonous heartbeat for the cherub on the wall…
The growing chill in the room was banished by the entry of the efficient secretary, the whirring of her mechanical legs masking the reverberating gunshot. "Right", croaked the editor, waving away the last blades of dead grass, "return these letters to Mr Rusk, the families will be wanting them."
The secretary bobbed her lacquered head in acknowledgement as she tried to avoid looking at her boss' eyes as the colour slowly bled in, flooding the parched iris. Wheeling around to leave, she was halted by her employer, "and…and bring me the transcript for that 'Goddess' book, I'm going to need a second look."
The secretary rotated around in surprise, coming to face her boss with a screech of cold, surprised metal, "but you said it was rubbish!" she squawked, "that she didn't even know the meaning of the word 'euphemism'!"
"Don't question me, just do it!" snapped the editor, the highway of new veins flooding her reddening face. The secretary rolled out of the blindingly green office, away from her suddenly life-like and out of sorts employer. Just in time to miss her murmur, "I finally understand."