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thejunipertreeThe walls of St.Louis #1 Cemetary in New Orleans has high granite walls. I'm sure that they could possibly be climbed over. However, my fat ass, short legs, and weak arms do not have the ability to do so. Not in this incarnation, at any rate.
This graveyard, though, was different from St.Louis. Low walls, only about knee high or under. I started out being loath to pass it. My stomach would twist up into tight Gordian knots everytime my feet took my down the sidewalks leading past it. A deep and wet washcloth of dread would press itself close over my face, heartbeat quickening and breath shortening.
Fear, quite simply. Primordial and oozing fear.
Night after night, these dreams would flutter through my eyes. I'd watch the sky darkening over the cemetary. A sickly grey with clouds boiling slowly across. My vision wasn't the same as it is in the waking world. All the colours in these dreams, in my eyes, were subdued and darkened. Unsettling.
I began to rally my strength and take small steps towards walking past. Each time more difficult than the next. Each time with the same, sick positivity that THEY were going to come and get me. That an eldritch and twisted energy was going to wrap its fingers round my fragile throat, infecting my body and mind.
Soon, I began to feel a hand in mine. At first, it was tentative and ghost soft. Almost not even there. The scent of rum and expensive cigars would tickle my nose and as the nights went by, the hand's presence grew stronger, the grip firmer.
A shadow would fall across my vision, but I was too intent on keeping an eye on the low and quiet graves to look towards my new companion. I still shook, though my tremours were now minute and quick to pass.
Once, a smoky voice reached my ear. A dirty joke, my name whispered low and candy sweet. I laughed without even thinking about it, then he spoke again. "Mon chere," he said. "Your laughter keeps the darkness at bay. The dead can't hurt you and your chosen profession will bring about respect from me and mine." He squeezed my fingers tight, then laughed again. I don't feel his hand in mine, anymore.
I choose this moment to look sidelong through my hair at him, already half knowing who had been walking these paths by my side.
A taller than believable ebony skinned man. Bare chested under a tailed black tuxedo coat. Silk top hat perched upon his head and a white skull painted across his dark and smiling face. Eyes hidden behind dark and round glasses.
"Baron," I said to him. "You know my name."
He laughed again, a melodious ringing deep in my ears. "Chere, I've always known your name. The other Ghede know it, too. From the day you were born, we've waited until you opened your eyes." He tapped me then, in between my eyes and just over the bridge of my nose. A gentle touch that slid over my skin, I didn't flinch from it. "Your benefactoress speaks highly of you."
He leaned forward then, blotting out the dim sun and sky, until all I could see was my own reflection in his darkened glasses. A soft kiss where his fingerprint lay. I kept my eyes open and watched him rise back and away from me. Backing away and drawing something cold out of my hand, something that I hadn't realised I'd been holding onto.
"Next time, you'll have to remember your own." He grinned and waggled the cow's foot that I'd been holding at me. "You know the rules. And I know that you'd like to keep your fingers and palms where they are today." He bowed low at the waist, gracious and lithe. "I'll see you soon enough, chere."
I smiled then, the first time that I can remember in these dreams. "Only if God wills it, Baron."
I wake up with his laughter ringing in my birdbone skull.
This graveyard, though, was different from St.Louis. Low walls, only about knee high or under. I started out being loath to pass it. My stomach would twist up into tight Gordian knots everytime my feet took my down the sidewalks leading past it. A deep and wet washcloth of dread would press itself close over my face, heartbeat quickening and breath shortening.
Fear, quite simply. Primordial and oozing fear.
Night after night, these dreams would flutter through my eyes. I'd watch the sky darkening over the cemetary. A sickly grey with clouds boiling slowly across. My vision wasn't the same as it is in the waking world. All the colours in these dreams, in my eyes, were subdued and darkened. Unsettling.
I began to rally my strength and take small steps towards walking past. Each time more difficult than the next. Each time with the same, sick positivity that THEY were going to come and get me. That an eldritch and twisted energy was going to wrap its fingers round my fragile throat, infecting my body and mind.
Soon, I began to feel a hand in mine. At first, it was tentative and ghost soft. Almost not even there. The scent of rum and expensive cigars would tickle my nose and as the nights went by, the hand's presence grew stronger, the grip firmer.
A shadow would fall across my vision, but I was too intent on keeping an eye on the low and quiet graves to look towards my new companion. I still shook, though my tremours were now minute and quick to pass.
Once, a smoky voice reached my ear. A dirty joke, my name whispered low and candy sweet. I laughed without even thinking about it, then he spoke again. "Mon chere," he said. "Your laughter keeps the darkness at bay. The dead can't hurt you and your chosen profession will bring about respect from me and mine." He squeezed my fingers tight, then laughed again. I don't feel his hand in mine, anymore.
I choose this moment to look sidelong through my hair at him, already half knowing who had been walking these paths by my side.
A taller than believable ebony skinned man. Bare chested under a tailed black tuxedo coat. Silk top hat perched upon his head and a white skull painted across his dark and smiling face. Eyes hidden behind dark and round glasses.
"Baron," I said to him. "You know my name."
He laughed again, a melodious ringing deep in my ears. "Chere, I've always known your name. The other Ghede know it, too. From the day you were born, we've waited until you opened your eyes." He tapped me then, in between my eyes and just over the bridge of my nose. A gentle touch that slid over my skin, I didn't flinch from it. "Your benefactoress speaks highly of you."
He leaned forward then, blotting out the dim sun and sky, until all I could see was my own reflection in his darkened glasses. A soft kiss where his fingerprint lay. I kept my eyes open and watched him rise back and away from me. Backing away and drawing something cold out of my hand, something that I hadn't realised I'd been holding onto.
"Next time, you'll have to remember your own." He grinned and waggled the cow's foot that I'd been holding at me. "You know the rules. And I know that you'd like to keep your fingers and palms where they are today." He bowed low at the waist, gracious and lithe. "I'll see you soon enough, chere."
I smiled then, the first time that I can remember in these dreams. "Only if God wills it, Baron."
I wake up with his laughter ringing in my birdbone skull.