The Forbidden Rose

Dark Skies

My nakedness is apparent as I wake beneath the cold silk covers. There is an omnipresent sound of dripping, and my senses are overcome by the strong,  yet familiar blight of the surrounding atmosphere; there are hints of orange and rosemary on the sheets. I look to the left and then to the right and my eyes catch an abstruse figure vanishing from sight every few seconds by the light of a candle. You are naked too. A robe that seemed to have fallen from your shoulders is hanging from the piano bench underneath you.

Without walking I'm suddenly behind you. I run my fingers through all the muscular trenches of your back. You turn and look at me. Your face is organic, I kiss the crimson patches and the scars. You reach your arm around me, leading me to face you as I stand between your legs. You take me in, kissing everywhere I hope you will.

Your lips taste like salt and sweat and a little bit like red wine. I glance behind me and see a goblet. You pour me half a glass and I drink it completely without any reservation. You smirk and let out a tiny laugh. Your hands grasp around my thighs and throw them around your waist. I can already feel the marks you leave on my neck turning dark colors. I don't mind them, in fact, I welcome the new blemishes. Every part of my body is buzzing even my head which tingles every time my lips meet yours.

A field.

There's wild lavender, white yarrow, red African daisies, and pink zinnias surrounding our patch of meadow. You're in a white poet shirt, beneath a gold vest. You wear a moon colored mask that hides all but your mouth. And on your head there is a cotton twine hat with a black band. I look down at my lap. I'm wearing a long white dress that is layered in flowing lace material. My feet are only covered by stockings.

You call this place your dreamery. We talk of now and the future. We talk of our children, small and precious. You feed me vine fruit as I rest my head in your lap. You recite our favorite poetry...

"Gently, let us steep our love
In the silence deep, as thus,
Branches arching high above
Twine their shadows over us..."

And then we see it. A brewing storm overhead. Shapes of death form in its clouds. The rain hits our skin like knives and again we are naked, yet without shelter or the comfort of one other. You are gone, and I am unmoving, my large bare stomach cut open, as I float in a murky pond.

"Christine!" The wind whines, "Christine!"

She is jolted awake to a concerned pair of eyes. Erik's hands are gripping her shoulders. "Are you okay?" he asks. She's hyperventilating. All at once she feels the suffocating heat of her body and dampness of her skin. He removes the heavy comforter from her chest.

"My love," he mutters, his brows furrowing, as he picks her up from the bed. He lays her on the chaise in the far left corner of the room beneath the window. He runs to fetch something. Christines head is spinning as she is trying to control her breathing. He comes back with a pitcher of water and a glass. Erik quickly fill the glass and lifts it to her lips, helping her drink. Once she's drank most of the water he sets it aside and kneels in front of her. Her breathing has slowed down but there's still a faint dizziness.

Erik cups her cheek. "Are you okay my darling?" 
"Yes," she's able to answer."
"Okay, my love, you frightened me. What happened?"
She feels better now, the fog of her mind clearing, "I had a terrible and lovely dream."
"How do you mean?" He asks, her dissonant reply leaving him confused.

She shakes her head, unable to describe the horror she saw of herself, the image to ugly to relive. Instead she reaches for him."Oh, Erik, it's no matter, I'm just relived it was all only a dream."
Eriks quiet for a moment, curious of what could terrorize her so, but let's the question cease, and embraces her. "Yes, my dear, only a terrible dream. I'm here with you now, nothing can harm you." He kisses her damp forehead.

"Why don't we go for a morning swim, there's a-?"
"No!" She yells interrupting him, the image of her manipulated body in the water striking fear in her heart once again. His shocked face sobers her. "No, I'm sorry, I... would you mind just drawing a bath for me?" His eyes are still wide and his mouth is ajar, but his face begins to soften as he re-evaluates. "Of course," he says finally, standing up and walking to their suitcase to grab her a robe from their belongings, he lays it over the arm of the couch, and exits the room.