Another Night: Nicolas de Lenfent

Upon Waking

Another day. No, another night. It seemed a dull joke though it was not for the effect of humor. It was my waking thoughts most every evening after I find myself startled by the confinement of my coffin, my eyes fearfully scanning the close wooden walls. For some reason I forget, and it is not for the fact that my mind is fixed on any recollections, I actually remember nothing the moment I awake, and it isn't until I open my eyes that the alarming confusion jolts me as the lethargic numbness leaves my form and I feel and see the structure that holds me. That is when the memories flood me.

I had the Dark Gift now. I had reaped what I deserved from the deceptive monster that had claimed of me his lover and friend. I relinquish those titles now, if I ever even held on to them before.

No, that was a lie. I loved him. The truth of it disgusted me, but I loved him too dearly. The delicacy of that love is what quickly fed the hatred, and there was so much heartache to fuel the fire. I could feel the madness descending on me, but I was not an idiot in the sense that I didn't know why this darkness deepened in me now. It was him, the wretch.

No, the 'saint' a touch of sarcasm weaving into my spiteful thoughts, Heaven's light. Lestat, an angel's goodness captive in a demonic form. Well, we will see how long his optimism will last against the treacherous trails of an eternity. How long he thinks he's got the chance to redeem some sort of mortal innocence with sickening charity and morality. It will be harder on him than Paris ever was.

My thoughts flashed back to the night he had come back to Renaud's after his inexplicable disappearance, the first unnerving pang that uprooted my minds balance. The second being his casual return and his outrageous display of generosity, giving to the troupe handfuls of coins as if that was what mattered! As if that was what would console me!

Gloom began to take over the bitter thought and I pushed it all from my mind as best I could. I had no reason to relive these things. The fool was gone, the theater mine. Eleni cared for me the best she could through my mounting moments of insanity. There were nights where I thanked her fervently for this though I cannot say whether I was lucid or not, and she accepted my gratitude with a kind though wary smile. I could only expect as much.

I sighed out of grief and bitterness. I was already in a foul mood. I didn't want to leave the coffin. I didn't want anyone to see or touch me, and most of all a dread gripped my stomach because I couldn't remember half of what I felt I should. There were fragments gone. I don't remember anything of the music sheets I had been working on yesterday, though I'm sure I had spent a good deal of time on them. I don't remember rehearsals, nor the last words spoken to me or from whom. I would leave my coffin foolishly unaware of my current surroundings while I was still able to have putridly sharp recollections of that blonde horror that had already soured my disposition for the night. That in itself was maddening.

I finally opened the lid to my coffin, and the back of my mind began pounding with the horrifying notion that these bitter thoughts were the exact same ones that greeted me each time I awoke in confusion, as if it spun on the reel of my mind and looped every evening.

Another night.