Vesper

It was muggy outside, but I didn’t sweat. I don’t know why. It may have had something to do with the fact that I was pretty much dead. I’m not really sure how it all worked. But I was still walking down the street that night at 3:30 in the morning, as I always did. I thought I might stop at some park and read one of my journals I had written over the centuries. I had about 65 journals and I reread them every once in a while, just so I wouldn’t forget whatever I didn’t want to forget. I randomly grabbed one out of my suitcase before I left. It was one of the earliest ones.

Ah, there was a park up ahead.

And Then I heard Mozart.

What?

I stopped immediately and listened. I turned to face the house I’d stopped in front of. I don’t know why I waste my time like this, and then again, I have all the time in the world, so I decided to investigate. It was a two-story house and the music was coming from an open window on the side of the second floor. I figured it was probably some old woman, because who listens to Mozart anymore, anyway? I reached her window by way of the carport roof and sat there looking in. I was just out of the light- hardly visible.

And there she was, sort of dancing around her small room. There was a smile on her face and her eyes were closed. She was very graceful and petite- and also very young. She couldn’t have been more than 16.

The song faded away and she stopped dancing, she opened her eyes and came out of her daze, still looking a bit spaced though. And then, if possible, my heart almost jumped out of my chest. She climbed onto her bed and came to the window. She was looking dead at me. I was lost… her black hair fell around her dark eyes and she just… looked at me. Aknowledged my existence.

Then the music started up again and she climbed off her bed. She still looked at me, while she danced. Her lips were red and cheeks were flushed, like she drank too much wine.

I came closer to the window, but stopped. I couldn’t go in unless summoned. Then, she swept her hand in that inviting manner women used to do when they wanted to be demure about letting you in. She wasn’t being demure about it, though, or maybe she was, but the motion was mostly just as an afterthought. I kneeled down and stepped through the window onto her bed. I began to think I was going crazy again, and then I thought well, it doen't matter because she's even crazier. Obviously.

I looked around her fairly cluttered, yet comfortable room. There were a lot of shiny things, like sun catchers and christmas lights, the colorful ones. And on the dresser, next to her bird’s cage, was a napkin full of dried mushrooms.

So that’s what it was.

At that moment a lot of things crossed my mind. Chances are I could do anything and she would think it was a dream in the morning, or whenever the psilocybin finished working its way through her system. I smirked. But, being a gentleman, I simply wrapped my arm around her small waist, took her delicate hand and danced with her. She laughed quietly, enjoying herself immensely.

I wondered how far into the trip she was.

We danced until the CD restarted itself; then, she climbed accross her bed and crawled out of the window and sat on the carport roof, looking at the sky and all the stars. I followed.

“You’re very beautiful.” She said.

“You’re a wonderful dancer.” I replied.

She laughed, “No I’m not. Well, maybe, but I’m not usually. Right now I am not myself.” She spoke with clarity.

“I know.”

“I know you know.”

We sat.

She looked as if contemplating something and sighed, a bit frustrated. I didn’t ask.

“Aren’t you going to ask?” she questioned.

“No.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have told you anyway.”

She grinned, lethargically. She had another world going on in her head. For all I knew, God was telling her the secrets of the universe. I stood and jumped nimbly to the ground.

“You’re amazing.” She said. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not sure.” I replied, truthfully.

“Well…are you going away, like to another state or something?”

“Perhaps, but not until the next coming night.” There was a short silence.

“Is it because you’re a ‘vampire’?” she whispered to me, like a mischievous child.

“What.” It wasn’t a question; it was more of a statement said in disbelief. She knew that and didn’t repeat herself.

“…yes.” I replied, a bit cautiously.

At that moment the wind blew and I could feel the temperature was changing. The air was becoming warmer. A sign of dawn.

“Well, I would like you to come back. So, don’t go too far.”

“I’ll try. Farewell.”

“Farewell,” she waved gracefully.

“Oh, by the way,” she said. “What’s your name?”

I smiled at her, “What would you like my name to be?”

She sat thoughtfully for a moment.

“Gabriel.” She declared.

“And yours will be Esther.” I replied.