I never did get her name. She never sought to bring it up, though it's always felt like that's the way it was supposed to be and I was fine with that. I would simply address her as 'My Angel' as she once suggested when we first started seeing each other. I knew she was not of the world yet I embraced her and the gift she brought with her. Every Sunday night, I would leave town and head into the hills on the outskirts, following the eerie yet dreamy music that echoed softly through out. To another wanderer it'd seem as the music had no source, but to me I always knew where to track it every single time. Every single time I'd arrive in a small valley where a spring ran through and I would see My Angel sitting in the water plucking at her harp.When I saw her I felt as if it were my heart she was plucking at to tease me. I'd sit close and watch her nimble fingers work and listen to the hum that accompanied the harp. She was so beautiful in such a cosmic way. She had no skin the way humans do, rather she had the shape of a woman but you could see the stars in her very being, like a personification of the cosmos. She had no real face yet I could still see the romance in where her eyes would be and her hair looked to be made from the tail of a comet. Her harp was just as other worldly as she was, looking as if it were chiseled from the moons of Jupiter with the strings made of the rings of Saturn.
She always played a song for me and I always loved it, to which she would make her departure. These songs would be from an hour to two hours long before she'd ascend to the stars above me and then I would leave for home to go on with the new week.
I remember the first time I met her I thought I was hallucinating before she would reach out to pull me into a slow dance to convince me it was all very real. That night was the slowest of my life and I loved every second of it. She always told me about her days and I always listened to every little bit, from her visit to the next universe to her visions of the destruction of ours though not for such a very long time she assured me. I asked if she were some kind of goddess but she merely referred to herself as a cosmic proportion of love.
A couple of times she'd teach me to play a few notes from her harp and I could feel the astral force it emitted. To play a note, to pluck a ring of Saturn was to truly live! She would guide my hands and whisper into my ear lovingly, her breath cold and her voice as soft as the blue hue of Neptune. Oh how I longed to know her name. How I fantasized about being able to make love to such an ethereal entity. My thoughts, as lewd as they were at times, were not unseen, as she once pointed out how she too felt the same; I would get to truly taste the sweet nectar of her being when I fully ascend into an astral transition and become as she is. She yearned for my intimate and eternal embrace.
This would go on for 2 years before I would one day wake in the middle of the night to find her in my room. She couldn't stand to be apart from me, she said. Every night she'd play beautifully for me as a kind gesture to get me to sleep, but I never wanted to sleep, I wanted to hold her close so we could play her harp together. She'd never object. For the first time in awhile I didn't feel alone. I never told anyone about the space woman who visited me every night to play music for me. Actually, I found myself starting to become less social day by day. All I thought about was the incoming night when I would get to hold her close and play the harp before she'd softly grip my hand and leave me to sleep for the rest of the night. Eventually I started to lose touch with reality. Life became a list of chores to get done, all for reward of coming home to her. Even if I were to arrive home early from work or an errand I'd wince at the thought that I'd still hours to go before the sun fell and My Angel would descend from the stars and into my arms once again.
It got to a point where I couldn't bear the few hours we were apart during the day, I'd feel a pain in my heart and a sinking in my stomach. I'd hold her much firmer when she came and caress her more tenderly to savor every second I had with her. She no longer had to teach me as I eventually learned to improvise songs just for her. The relationships I had with the real world began to collect dust and my responsibilities became nothing but a burden. I was addicted to her. I thought of her all day and every day. I dreamed of her every night when she left. The women of the world became nothing compared to My Angel. Then I finally snapped.
I sold my apartment, my car, and all material possessions of value for a tent, winter supplies, and a ticket to Antarctica. I told My Angel about this plan and her very soul gleamed in joy. My last night in my old home we held each other for longer than usual before she would leave and I'd make my departure.
Two days later and I would arrive. The cold pierced my face but I gave it no attention. I merely started to walk. For hours I walked and for hours it seemed the sun above had not moved. After a while I found myself near a spring and chose to set my new home on such a spot. I had the bare essentials: water, food, and warmth, and most importantly a calendar. Days would pass but the sun still remained above, moving ever so slightly. One could ask what I possibly did to pass the time- I hummed the songs she played for me and that was all I needed. The cold fought to unnerve me but I remained still and strong like a mountain. All that went through my mind was to drink, eat, and sleep. For so long I sat still and waited, watching nothing but the barren winter lands beyond. After what felt like eternity, the time had finally come. The sun was finally setting after months. In the final days where the sun was practically sunk underneath the horizon I could start to see the stars above. The sun, still barely breathing, would paint the remainder of the sky it touched with hues of pink and orange. To see the transition of those hues to the natural colors of the cosmos was euphoric. Finally, I heard it. The music of the harp began to descend from above and with it My Angel. She fell so gracefully right into my grasp and we held each other tightly. For the first time, I exclaimed to her that I loved her, and she would reciprocate. We would start to play on her heavenly harp and at the first pluck of a string I had completely lost my sense of reality. Now it was just me, My Angel, and the harp, in a place where the longest night on earth takes place. Here, in her arms just as she was in mine, I was blissfully ignorant in the fact it was my last night on earth.
Months had passed by and she ascended into the heavens for the last time. She never returned to the Earth and neither did I.
