The Cold Before Dawn

The Cold before Dawn


         
A light tapping on the oak door roused the inhabitant of the old house from their slumber on the faded floral lounge. Orange flames danced within their ancient stone place casting fractured shadows along the walls. The air was tinged with the smell of burning wood, the room still only slightly warm. Ancient floor boards creaked as sleepy footsteps clumsily moved towards the heavy door.
 
Rough skinned hands inched the hanging wood slightly forward. As the cold city air clawed its way into the house a worn finger flicked the light switch bathing the concrete porch in a soft yellow glow. Two soft brown eyes peered from behind the door at the uniform darkness beyond. There was no outline of trees or buildings beyond the concrete square, just a blinding black which gave the impression that nothing else existed or ever had.

From around the house came the normal sounds of city life; distant car engines, a stereo playing louder than it should and every now and then the shrill sound of a siren screaming toward some kind of emergency. Underneath all this human noise, however, was something else completely.
Here the wind howled through the trees, bat wings drummed in the air and every now and then a bestial growl issued forth from the neighbouring fence. Somewhere two cats screeched obscenities into the night while close by a frog baritoned to the rhythm of rustling leaves. Here the city was not completely in control.

The brown eyes, tinged with fear, gazed towards the darkness, searching out the sounds. A sudden movement drew the eyes back towards the porch. Something was fluttering dangerously in the breeze, an envelope defaced in broad fountain pen strokes. A black Raven marred its crisp white surface. The eyes stared at the envelope before their owner came forward to retrieve the letter.
Grasping the envelope firmly calloused fingers ran over the paper feeling every imperfection on its surface. The door creaked closed against the night air, the soft padding of retreating footsteps leading away into another room.
Back in the lounge room the fire was crackling to its self as light rain gently tapped against the window pane. The chocolate eyes studied the front of the envelope in the fire light, heart beating heavily, waiting for the hungry eyes to devour every word within.

Turning the envelope over the same rough hands pulled the letter out of the envelope gently, as if it were a precious relic, and as the hands worked together to straighten the paper the eyes flickered over the first words:

                    Dearest Raven,
                                                 You spurned me deeply last time I saw you. Your mouth curled up at me, cursing my existence. You asked how I became the way I am, how there could be such a “cold thing”. I simply left you, unable to give any real answer to your questions. I stalked alone all night until I found myself outside the city walls. It was then that the answer came to me, so now I give it to you.
As I sat at the bottom of the mountain slope I heard a strange and haunted voice emanating from above me shrouded in melancholy. It was a sad song, an epic tale, the ethereal voice like a fine mist I could almost touch.  I listened to it in the stillness while around me the city slept comfortably in its warm bed, covers drawn to its neck in safety.

         “My bones do not belong to me
They ache for their rightful home
The sweet song of death woos them
Ushering them to dirt”

         The words floated down to me on a breeze I could not feel and my eyes began to close, tiredness stealing over me. As my limbs became heavy with lethargy and my lids touched in a moment of utter peace I began a waking dream, the landscape changing behind my lids. Disorientation seized my senses, but all the while that song reached me, flowing through me as though it were a part me, driving me on.

“On the night I cheated Azriel
I whispered to him silently
‘I will not go so soon’
As my mouth filled with scarlet
The wild flowers smelt of copper”

         I stood in a dark field, a full and bright moon lighting a path across the river in front of me, a vein of silver reaching through a barren landscape. All around me I could faintly see the glow of petals, as beautiful in the night as they are in the day, tempting me with their silky soft looks and silent calming whispers as stalk brushed against stalk, leaf swept against leaf.
The sky was clear like I have never seen before, filled with thousands of stars shining like diamonds caught in a flash. The breeze played with each flower so that they slowly swayed as if waltzing in time with the heavenly voice, a private production just for me. As each word touched my ear I felt something inside me give a little more, the dream taking over and becoming my reality.

“My body death rattled in silence
As the heavens blinked in knowing at my face
But the wolf in sheep’s clothing cackled
A mad man at a mirror, a jackal by my side”

         Suddenly I saw, in the corner of my eye, a figure dark and foreboding watching me. Without moving it stood there looking at me, without moving I stood looking back. The flowers continued to dance as I stared into the shadows, the stars watching like so many eyes blinking in disbelief at the spectacle. It did not move, and I thought perhaps it may have been a statue, some old monument that I had not noticed earlier, an ancient man who had done so many exceptional things someone had carved him out of stone; a permanent reminder for the future.
         The figure stepped from the shadows, a statue of ivory come to life, gleaming like silver in the pale moon light. As he looked at me, he opened his mouth and I saw him pant like a great cat tasting the air. Strands of his hair reached towards me and framed his chiselled face like a great black mane. He cocked his head to the side and looked at me and I noticed his nostrils flaring like an animals as he sucked the breeze deep into his chest. Though I felt panic, I stood still thinking perhaps he had not seen me, this strange man, that maybe I was alright as long as I didn’t move.

“I became a god under those eyes of ice
As two white stalactites dripped
A crag laced with warm claret
And he smiled at me
A thousand deaths dancing in his eyes”

         Suddenly I was lying flat on my back looking up into eyes of the purest blue ever known to man. In horror I stared at them as they bored into my soul. I could feel them tugging on my fear as I felt a crushing weight press across my chest. I thought to myself simply “What is going on?” Without warning everything turned a shade of gold, silk fluttering over my face like the tattered death shawl of a king gone bye. I was more disoriented then ever until a sharp sting brought me back and the veil lifted from my eyes. 
They were back. Staring at me again, those two fiendish blue eyes. As much as I feared them and the body attached, I couldn’t but help to look into them, two great pools beckoning my soul to dive in. They were further from my face this time and I was able to take in the whole picture, a living piece of art, a nightmare come to life. I tried to move but the weight was still on top of me and I realized that the thing had me pinned down.
Something dripped onto my forehead and I saw that it was blood. My own blood. It was trying to get back in, wanting to come home. It trickled between my eyes and I moaned in terror; as my mouth moved I felt a thick warmth coating everything inside. I could smell that it was blood, but I swallowed it anyway. All the while the hypnotic singing continued, reaching me from miles away, comforting me but helping the beast to hold me down all the same even as my stomach grew warmer and warmer against the cold night air.

“The death of an immortal is relived
Night after night
And as scarlet ambrosia flows my body knows
This is as familiar as sin”

         The scene changed before my eyes and no longer was I standing in the field, but outside a small wooden pub. A vexation filled my fibre as I watched the silhouettes of dancing people flicker over the walls. Every now and then I would catch a glimpse of them as the passed by the open window laughing as they spun in circles, the simple dresses of the women whirling out around their legs.
Behind me came a sound, a cough, and as I turned I saw smoke spiral towards the heavens, rhythmic sparking underneath it signaling a pipe. I could smell the sickly mingling of sweat and alcohol combining with the spicy tang of tobacco. It was one of the dancers leaving for the night. A feeling, a strange feeling, took the place of the annoyance and I realised all at once that it was anticipation. I stayed in the shadows of the dark ally watching him. When the time was right I exposed myself only slightly, my face emerging from the shadows so he could just see my face. I opened my mouth to taste his scent.

“As I drink, my body spasms
In thralls of lust no mortal could bare
The fire in my belly steadily wanes
It leaves me shaky, vulnerable
Like a child abandoned to the street”

         As I clasped my hand around his neck and sank my teeth into his supple pink skin the warmth of his blood infected me, filled me with a hunger I have never felt before. My body yearned for it, I couldn’t stop the rhythmical movement of my mouth and as the first mouthful hit my stomach I was filled with a euphoria I can not even begin to put into words. It was ecstasy, set every inch of my body on fire and when I had drunk my fill I felt overcome with power. A glow filled my body; I became giddy as if I were drunk. I sunk to the ground on my knees and looking into the eyes of the dying man I laughed like a child. Ever present the song filled my ears as I cackled to myself like a maniac.

“I awake inside my wooden armour
Where the dark rays of the sun shall never touch me
So I can again step into the bright night
Filled with a lust for that which I abhor”

         Once again my senses reeled as the setting changed before my eyes and I was inside a wooden box. Rather than being horrified I felt comfortable, almost like I was home. As I stepped forth I saw that though it was dark everything was quite visible to me. Again in the pit of my stomach I could feel that vexation, that longing, and though I was filled with detestation in my heart for what I knew it was for, the feeling overrode my sense of right and wrong.
         I felt the deepest hate for myself, I felt like a beast, but yet I wanted more, yearned for more and I knew, with a deep regret, that instinct would win over reason every time. Slowly I walked into the night, sticking to the shadows and waiting for my prey. In my mind, the voice continued as the scene faded before my eyes.

“My bones do not belong to me
But death will not claim them soon”

         As my eyes slowly opened I was still laying at the bottom of the slope in the cold before dawn. The smell of morning dew filled the air, the damp grass stuck to my exposed flesh. I could hear the city begin to stir like a giant beginning to wake. The voice echoed through my mind and I realised that all along, it was my own. 

My Eternal Love
T.


         The eyes raced over the signature again, lids flickering against a single tear. Carefully the hands slid the letter back into the envelope and sealed it again. Slowly the reader rose from the floor in front of the fire place and moved towards the mantle piece. The rough hands reached out and placed the letter on top of the mantle, leaning obliquely against the wall. Quietly they ambled back to the faded floral lounge to continue their soft slumber.