The Lovers of Life

Prologue

"Close your eyes and sleep
Don't wait up for me
Hush now don't you speak"

Soma – Siamese Dream –  The Smashing Pumpkins

A fresh breeze dances around me. I turn around in my sleep, ignoring the pleasant sensation of the wind on my face. I know someone is near me, but it's nothing to worry about. After all, there are six of us sleeping at twilight. Plus, there's something oddly familiar about the presence. It's reassuring.

I'm awake now. I can feel the earth and the roots under me and spare a thought to wonder why I didn't bother to bring a mat or cushions. I shiver as my hands feel around, searching blindly for my blanket, which I must have pushed away in my sleep. I turn to look at Elsie, convinced that she has taken it – again. But there's no one in sight. A shiver runs through my spine. I turn around. Julien isn't there either. Could they have gone inside without me? But then, if they aren't with me, who is?

He is behind me. Immediately, I sit up, leaning slightly forward, ready to spring and run, but frozen into place. I dare not turn around to face him. Or maybe it's just that I'd rather sulk. I don't know and don't find out. The sight before my eyes is so unique, it takes my breath away and makes me forget about everything else. I can't think, I can't even want. But I can see, and that's more than enough.

Before me lies a river, its waters flowing steadily under a moonless sky. The canopy above is an iridescent black and blue. There is an aurora borealis, like a rainbow-coloured river in the sky, splitting the glittering curtain of the stars. The dark river reflects the aurora over it, and the shores glitter in the colours reflected from the sky. I am sitting on a road that seems abandoned, covered with weeds and roots. Maybe it isn't a road after all. Gladioluses grow on the riverbank. An old man, crooked by time, is rowing a boat away from me. It's as if he has just brought me here. And left me here.

That's when reality snaps back into my confused mind. Where are they? Are they all right? I can't think straight. It doesn't even cross my mind to wonder where I am or where this path leads.

Julien... Elsie!

They are sleeping, murmurs a glacial soothing voice in my mind.

I sigh with relief as my gaze falls once again on the river. The ferryman is gone. The wake of his rowboat has disappeared. The aurora borealis floods the night with its mysterious beauty.

Anastasia.

I turn around. He looks down on me as I have dreamed of for so long. His skin glows in the darkness as if, like a moon, he reflects the light of the sun. But he could not survive facing the sun. Tonight however, I am not dreaming: he is here. The aurora illuminates the night with unfathomable wonders, but his eyes are fixed on me as if there is nothing else worth looking at around us.

He is wearing a loose white linen shirt on which I can see, glimmering, a medallion. His eyes are as I remembered them: purple and gleaming with mischief. His smile is mysterious, but an aura of deep pleasure emanates from him, as if he is roaring with laughter inside. His curled dark hair falls around his face. He offers me his hand on which shine precious jewels. I take it, ignoring its unnatural frost and he helps me to my feet.

The lights play in the sky, casting soft shadows on the old path. The shadows of trees and boulders marry at our feet as though they had been forever betrothed and waiting for the moment of union. We are like them, aren't we? But he casts no shadow. No. We are not like them.

He takes my other hand in his. I did not see his gesture, but my two hands are in his now. I can hear my heart beating and I am close enough to feel his heartbeat. Or I would be, if he had one.

I bend my head slightly, to see him better. Twenty years it has been, but I remember everything down to his long eyelashes. I watch mesmerized as he blinks. There is a quality no words can describe in all his movements. I can't take my gaze away from his anymore. I can see, I can feel. But I can't think.

He bends his head slightly, mirroring the last voluntary act I may ever have done. It's as if he's seen a sign, something crucial in my trivial movement and wants to imitate it. I am paralyzed, unable to summon my will as he stares at me intensely – almost indecently.

I fear the fatal awakening that will tear me from the dream I am living. I dread the idea of looking away from him, should he vanish the instant I look away. Fighting my fearful conscience, I look around. Is my will returning? A thick forest lies on the other side of the road – I can't sense the presence of a living soul for miles around. That is the final draw. This can't be true. I must be dreaming because the only place where no living soul lives or hides in a recluse corner is Hell.

Anastasia.

I turn back towards him. I ache from the sudden realization that I am dreaming again. He is still staring at me, his head slightly bent to one side as though from such an angle, he can see me in a better light.

How could you awaken when you are not in Morpheus' embrace?

He's smiling, his gleaming white teeth visible, as they always are with hungry creatures. His eyes sparkle with obvious pleasure.

It is sleep you should fear, my love.

His hands are no longer holding mine; they are clamped tightly around me – supporting me. Before I can take in the meaning of his speech, his lips are on mine. He gives me a quick peck on the lips, similar to a parent's kiss. How I wish it had been passionate.

Nothing can rival the coolness of his delicate lips on mine, the contradiction between his physical coolness and the feverous amorousness that's taking me over. Tears roll down on my cheeks as he silently holds me in his embrace. He draws back slightly and I grip his cloak, digging my nails into it, to keep him near me should he feel the urge or the desire to leave. I cling to him as firmly as I can as I try to think clearly, feeling increasingly desperate.

He keeps his lips far from mine as I sob. His left hand moves up to my nape. The chill of his contact does not make me shiver. He controls my will and thoughts. Already, I have abandoned myself to his power. His right hand tightens its grip around me to hold me steady, pulling me ever closer to him. He kisses my cheeks slowly, holding my head as it lolls backwards under the soft pressure of his lips. I am not weeping anymore, but staring blindly at the other shore where small flickering flames seem to brighten the night. The river flows with colors.

His cheek brushes mine as he bends to kiss the skin over my clavicle. Gently, his mouth goes up to kiss my neck with increasing ardour. I gasp as I feel myself melting in him. It's strange, he didn't have a heartbeat earlier. Now, his heart is beating in unison with mine, his body is growing warm. How can it be? I don't understand. We are one! No. There's only him now. He raises his head as I feel his presence growing distant. My vision becomes blurry as he smiles a bloody smile and lets go of the shell that used to be me. I stand poised, waiting for the first breath of wind that will send me crashing to the ground. His tongue licks the flecks of blood that cling to his fangs as he continues to smile. Dizziness overpowers me and I crumble on the bed of Hell where he has guided me. Clinging to consciousness, I look at the place where we stood together. There is nobody there.

Lusaka.

The aurora borealis fades and disappears in the blink of an eye. The darkness enfolds me and rocks me as if it is now my mother.

Anastasia.

I sink into the eternal night of my life. I can feel the heat emanating from the ground as if I have none myself. A white fog rises over the black river as dawn draws near.

Anastasia, says Lusaka, Get up. run away. Then, words seem to fail him and there's only the low rumble of the river.