Fear wove intricate designs within the lovely sounds of Father Peter’s pleas to the Great One in that place between waking and sleeping. I wished to stay in the realm of the conscious, but had not the strength.
The vividness of my dreams always surprised, excited, but more often horrified me. While I still had control, I prayed with Father Peter, but then as I knew they would dreams became my reality.
The full moon shone brightly on the uneven ground as I walked along kicking small pebbles on the well used path. The warm night breeze caressed my heightened senses, and I realized that I was drunk. My hands tingled, my head felt light, and I smiled into the darkness at nothing. I was thinking of my Niklav, calloused hands blazing trails along my soft skin. The memory seemed so familiar. Of course it would, I thought. I think of my glorious lover all the time. It was more than that though.
Breathing deeply, I smiled at the smell of moist air and fish. There must be a lake nearby.
“No!” I breathed after I froze on the dirt path. “Please Great One not this place!”
I scanned the area instantly sober. A massive lodge cast menacing shadows too close to me. I heard people afar off, laughing, singing, and celebrating. Light green and brown, my dress hugged the ground, and my heart began to race as I looked it over. Aija, my sister, had made the dress for me. I had not seen it for years. Not since the night it was destroyed.
He lurked in the darkness, but I saw him. I turned. I ran. I could feel his breath on the nape of my neck, the tips of his toes on my heels. Franticly, I moved, stumbling in the darkness. My tears created puddles barring me.
The ground seemed unnaturally hard when I hit. I scratched and clawed trying to pull away from him, but I heard my dress tear as he yanked me toward him. I screamed for Niklav, but in my fear I had run far from his ears! I cried and screamed as Mikhail rolled me over. My nails dug into the skin on his face ripping it away and infuriating him. His fist hit hard and my eyes went black for a moment, ringing in my ears.
“No, please Mikhail!”
“I have waited so long for this,” Mikhail said the lust burning in his eyes.
“Mikhail, please,” I cried. Swinging my arms and kneeing him in the genitals earning another hard punch in the face. I tasted blood. Through blurry eyes, I watched as Mikhail’s eyes turned that glossy black I had grown to fear.
The blackness in his eyes made me angry not afraid, but the more I kicked and screamed the more excited Mikhail became. His eyes returned to their scummy green, and I actually wished for the blackness. The green of Mikhail’s eyes made me vomit. I hoped the chunks of food I had spewed on him would be a discouragement, but they were not.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
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