Lexington

6. Reverie

6. Reverie

"We know little of things for which we pray." - Geoffrey Chaucer

A TAPPING ECHOED through the hallways: she wasn't sure at first if it was her but soon her movements fell in time with sound, her vision shifted into focus and her ears acclimated to her surroundings. Avalynne looked around her. Everything looked pretty much the same but despite this there was a transparent quality to the walls. They stood paper thin, almost as if they were swaying in a soft breeze, no integrity or rigidity. She, too, swayed the same way but carried on a steady pace. Each step felt heavy — water-logged and soaking in weight. Each blink a fight against her own body. Yet her path seemed clear and soon the soft breeze was a flat gust, lifting her hair from her cheeks and slowing her languished pace ever more. There had been no evidence of this wind inside, yet as soon as she had stopped through the doors the adverse weather had hit her like a car crash. It whipped and whacked at her body, willing her to push against it or let it carry her. With no fight inside her she was lifted and she found herself floating through the barren parking lot. A surprise rainfall battered down on her shoulders, forcing her eyes to blink away the liquid. A solitary vehicle was parked a way away from her: a long low and sleek sedan glistening with the droplets. The headlights were on but Avalynne could see no figure in the drivers seat. She was drawn however to the car, and reaching it she pulled the door open, and slid inside.

"Avalynne."

Her cheeks warmed instantly and her fingertips gripped the seat beneath her as she blew out the cold air in her lungs. Despite her wet clothes she sank down in comfort, thankful to be out of the rain.

"Avalynne."

She pulled her blouse from her chest and thought at first instinct to wring it dry, but she stopped, fearing for the wrath of the car's owner. She suddenly felt conscious of her whole body damaging the tight black leather seating of the car. "Avalynne!" The voice was finally allowed in, and she looked next to her to absorb the bright blue eyes of a man. They were speckled and dilated, shifting slowly between their bright cerulean and the black pits of his pupils. She stared, wanting to say something but her lips were glued shut. A name didn't come to her mind, and she wanted to ask. A steady confusion, not a fear, consumed her slowly and had her folded into a deep shiver.

"You're here," he muttered, his eyes flicked around her face, drinking in her lashes, her nose, her lips. "Why are you here?"

"I-I don't know," she answered. "I don't know. But I knew to come here."

Her face creased again before she asked, "Why are you here? What's your name?"

"I wanted to talk to you," the man said. His large hands moved next to him, twitching and fidgeting. They had found their way closer to her, until they played with the tips of her blueing fingers. There was suddenly little space between them, and Avalynne noticed that his dark pupils had swallowed all of the ocean blue iris and the whites of his eyes, but she wasn't scared.

"What's your name?" She pressed.

"My name," his orbs were empty. Void. His brows hunched over, his nose twitched erratically. "My name is..."

His lips dropped open slowly, and ivory white teeth were displayed, sharp canines glinting despite the darkness. The tip of his tongue lifted and curled, toying with the sharp edges and stopping in the middle of his incisors where it stopped dead. His jaw strained to push put the words but only pushed out more razor teeth. Avalynne's fear set in. They were too close now, and she could only see the situation descending into chaos.

"Please don't," she whimpered. "Please."

"It's not going to hurt, my love. Just a little bit and it will all be fine," he gripped her right arm tightly, feeling her bones quiver under the pressure. His other hand swept her hair behind her left shoulder, revealing a porcelain neck and slender collarbone.

"You shouldn't have trusted me," he whispered hoarsely. Silence. The dark world outside seeped into the back seat, and into his eyes. There was no escape for Avalynne when cold lips met her skin. Soft kisses flowed into sharp scrapes, pinching harder with each passing moment until suddenly a stab sent pain down her spine and through the her toes. She screamed out, a shockwave of agony thundered through her, each patter of rain on the window felt like a dull thud against her skull.

An eternity had rolled away before she fell limp and weak into his arms. The sharp needles lifted from her neck and a warm breath fanned over the exposed flesh. It took considerable effort for her to lift her eyelids, and attempt to distinguish the void black eyes in a sea of more darkness. She could see his teeth though, razor blades stained with crimson.

The walls around her expanded into the grey periwinkle of her bedroom, and when she leaned back she dropped further than expected onto her soft bedsheets. Her neck was damp, curling matted her around her nape. She lifted herself slowly from the dream, an ache still permeating her neck and shoulders. Rubbing the tightness there she stood from her bed, being careful on her weak knees. From the window she stared at the light flooding the pavement beneath the lamppost. In the corner of her vision she could swear a figure was hidden in the shadows behind the light. It shifted before she could focus on it and as soon as this occurred the figure was lost into the darkness. Giving up on her search Avalynne returned to her bed, rubbing her eyes of her nightmare. But every time she closed her eyes the gruesome sight of blood stained teeth burned into the back of her eyelids, more vivid and garish than the last loss of light.

*

A grand chandelier glistened overhead, dancing with dozens of crystals spinning and glinting, flashing smiles on the throngs of people down below. He surveyed the ballroom from a gold adorned balcony, only catching key features of the men and women dancing and conversing beneath. Gathered sunshine ringlets bouncing and swaying next to rigid brown waves and rainbows of eyes peeking through slits in masquerade masks. They were streaks and blurs of people, gliding across the floor, merely indiscernible colours. All but one. A scorching fire of body waves. Flames streaking across the floor that he couldn't help but follow. He was drawn to her, like opposing magnets he could not fight the pull. And for the brief moment where he descended the stairs and he couldn't see her face he felt like he could not breathe, like his throat had been gripped and he needed to drink her in to survive.

There she stood, dazzling him a simple red gown, constructed of soft curved lines and sweeping fairytale trains. Her smile was small and soft, almost unnoticeable if he was not totally focused on every part of her face. It was enticing.

And every step he took toward her was almost painfully pleasant, until he reached the point before where she stood and stopped to admire up close. She was a spectre, a beauty that he could admire until she inevitably disintegrated before his very eyes. So he treasured her visage, soft but sharp until he felt it begin to slip. Her smile faltered suddenly and worry seeped slowly into him. 

With a whip of her hair she turned from him and almost immediately the lump in his throat dipped. He was thrown off-kilter and into a steady daze. He followed her weaving pattern between the faces and bodies, but she seemed to move lighter, faster and further through the crowd. He had to catch her before she was gone forever, and so the chase continued. Further and further into a winding maze, the lights and sounds of the party a blurring mist until darkness. And only her, stood with his back to him and nothing but air surrounding them. The sweat on his brow crawled along this skin, tickling him with discomfort.

"Avalynne," he whispered.