Echoes of Lucasta

          The slick echo of footsteps: a harbinger of the voice to follow.

          “Are you there, Erebus?”

          Erebus held his breath near, moving silently within the void that had always been his home.  He had sensed her presence long ago, a slight tremor of stone, a flicker of the stifled air.  Yet there was something about the way she called his name, the way she stumbled about, unable to sense the stone as he did.  It was endearing, captivating, and somehow the thought that she struggled to be near him…  Moving to the side, he let her drift past him; her outstretched hand’s warmth teasing, tempting, his flesh.

          “Erebus?  You’re here right?”

          That slight waver in her voice, a mix of fear, hesitation, and desperation; how could a voice be so pure?  So unable to hide its naivety?  Moving in close, Erebus whispered, “I always am, Lucasta.”

          A sharp intake of breath, which was released as a sigh; she was trying to hide that he had startled her.  Her, hide from him?  Erebus smiled as he only could with her, nothing else in his world moved him like this.

          “Erebus…” she whispered, “you startled me.”

          Erebus’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion at the contradiction that was Lucasta.   “Why?”

          Lucasta chuckled, “I guess I am just a bit on edge in the dark.”

          That didn’t answer his question…  Erebus drew back, listening intently to the sound of her breathing, imagining the rising and falling of her breast.  It was odd really, he had never appreciated breath before meeting Lucasta--to unsettle the peace, the silence.

          “Does the dark scare you, Lucasta?”

          The sound of moist lips parting, the swallow of uncertainty, “I think we are all scared of the dark in one way or another.  Perhaps being vulnerable, perhaps imagining what we cannot see.”

          Erebus stepped closer, it was odd how vulnerable he felt around her, even when she was the one defenseless.  This beating in his chest, was it fear?  Fear for the darkness?  Reaching out a hand he stroked her cheek, captivated by the way it trembled under his cold flesh, “Do I, what you cannot see, scare you?”

          Lucasta’s hand closed over his, her hair flowing down over joined hands.  Her skin was so warm, the scent of a vibrancy which could never exist here; how different life must be for her.  Quietly she spoke, her voice as warm as her palm, “I still keep coming to visit you; do I not?”

          That didn’t answer his question; he eagerly waited for her visits, and yet this was surely fear.  Of what, he was not sure; but he felt it only when he was with her, remembering her.  And yet, he didn’t want these moments to end; strange, wasn’t it?

          “It has been so many nights, since I was last able to visit.”

          “Night?  Tell me of it, what it is to be night.”

          Lucasta’s grip on his hand slackened, it felt as though her breath was trailing far away from him.  The idea of this, it fascinated Erebus, almost as much as it made him feel sick inside.  He envied that ability to travel freely, but… 

          “The Night?” asked Lucasta, more to herself than Erebus.  “It is dark, but not as dark as here.  Sometimes you feel afraid, of the shadows which lurk at the corners of your eyes.  But there is something comforting about the moon.  Sometimes you just want to stare up at it, and get lost in its seas.”

          There were so many things that Erebus could ask, so many concepts which defied his imagination.  Perhaps what it was like to have shadows lurking in one’s eyes…  Yet he was engrossed with the sound of her voice, what these things meant to Lucasta.  This night, it meant nothing to him, and it never would.  But to her, it was how she gauged their time apart; while he spent the silence imagining what it would be like to sleep beside her, she was away… with this moon.

          “What does this moon look like?”

          Lucasta didn’t even notice the strain in his voice, “It is a soft argent glow, that comes and goes, and with each passing it changes.”

          “Changes?”

          “A few nights ago, it was so bright, it seemed to light my every step…”  Lucasta’s voice faded away, leaving an unnatural silence to reverberate through the cavern; reminding Erebus what it was like without her.

          “All things change” replied Erebus.  It wasn’t like him to try and fill the silence like this, with bitterness.

          And then there was her hand, upon his cheek, her breath on his, “Like you…”

          He changed?  Erebus swallowed nervously, fearfully.  It was because of this racing pulse, this clump which twisted him.  He missed simpler days, almost as much as he missed Lucasta, even when she was with him.  How was that?

          “It is strange how getting to know you better, it actually makes you more mysterious.  At times, it feels like you know me better than I know myself, even when I feel so lost.  You’re like a cloud, flowing through, on, the wind.”

          Erebus found this thought odd, to compare him to something from her world.  Was he not like the stone itself?  “What is a cloud?”

          “It is like a dream, never staying in one place, always drifting.  At times you look up and it feels as though you might be whisked away; you can’t tell if you are carried on the wind, or if the earth is drifting beneath you.  Somehow, such a dream, you don’t want it to leave, you don’t want to put a foot back to earth… yet when you reach out it seems to always be out of reach.  Only a dream…”

          The way she spoke, it was as though she was already away in a dream, at least to Erebus.  He had never felt a cloud, but somehow it felt like her.  “How is that like me?” he asked incredulously.

          Her hands trailed down his neck, slowly stroking his skin; thoughtfully, she replied, “I don’t know; it is just a feeling.  Something about you, about being with you.”

          “But, you can touch me…” replied the still perplexed Erebus.

          Lucasta said nothing.  Stepping in closer, she wrapped her arms around him, enveloping the both of them in silence.  She used to be so easy to understand, to read… just a bumbling stranger who couldn’t feel the stone.  Yet now it felt as though their roles were reversed.  As though he was the one who couldn’t find his way.   That must be why he was so afraid; yet he kept coming back?  Why?  A being of darkness, afraid of the dark, afraid of the light?

          “I don’t want you…”  Erebus paused, unsure of how to express the torrent, the torment.  But all he knew was that he was surely afraid.  Of what, he didn’t know; but Lucasta… why didn’t he want her to go?

          Then, like all dreams, she was out of his reach; a blade to the heart, which wouldn’t let him ask, “why?”  Erebus curled up against the cold stone only he could feel, wishing it could somehow take away this haunt of warmth, to take away the moon, the clouds… afraid, alone.  Lucasta.

Reviews

[Pax]

Very haunting, as the title goes, it does do justice to this very amusing piece.... I find the words, i mean their conversation very poetic, sad in a romantic way... I think I could recognize your style my friend, i had notice whenever I've read your stories, you create this atmosphere, not sure how to explain it, i know its there like now i see in this piece... thank you for sharing this wonderful piece my friend... keep penning!!!

[Nusquam Esse]

Thanks for taking the time to read my work; that you notice a style which is mine, yet is so difficult to describe... I am glad that my writing can do this. I often feel very much the same when I am writing, as if there is something lurking behind the words themselves--an odd feeling to say the least.