Sachi

A piece that is inspired by Angela Carter's "The Erl King,"

Sachi

By Brandon Wayne Stewart

 

 

There they are, beautiful, exotic queens of the Orient waiting for their emperor to sweep them off their feet. They bare their fans in waiting to allure their victims with their fateful seduction. Is it possible I can look away? They are women, but my mind has eluded me from this fact. They are now goddesses; they sit on thrones of majestic silks and fabrics as white as snow. They wear kimonos which are drenched in jewels, and only know the soft touch of the maids. Their faces are perfect in the way that imperfect was always meant to be. They need not smile, they need not laugh. The beauty they posses will make up for that. The makeup they have used will be more than sufficient. With winding laughter a light beacon shines bright on the beasts of the night who have dared to ask permission to touch. You would still though stare a bit longer. However, these Queens will do you grievous harm.

                Now again one does remember they are just women, but not enough to forget the pointless journey that is one’s life. You’ll yearn to be important to none but them and each day without acknowledgement will be the plunging dagger of your nightmares. When they speak, to you, or not to you, you can see the silvery air they breathe, the glittery sparkle of their saliva, and you would pray that the glittery saliva graced your body. Their breath gives an aroma, like the cherry blossom that sprouts first, and stays with you closely, so beautiful, but without care will eventually die. Do not let them speak to you too long, you will become aroused by the scent, and your nose will rip itself from your body in desperation to be forever attached to the source of that aroma.

                The queens have eyes, perfect eyes, eyes of the Orient, perfect for they are not the eyes of what is seen in your normal existence. These eyes contain souls, souls of the entranced, and the ones who didn’t have the will to look away. Though if I can recall no one has ever looked away. Still again one remembers that these are just women, but one will easily become trapped in the illusion and neglect the world for its true image. Looking into their eyes is a forest, in which standing tall in the center is the tree of knowledge, but in this forest the apples are underground. When they blink for a second you revert to reality, but you are disgusted by this reality, and therefore revolt against it. Before long you will never revert again. That is when you become another soul. Then the illusion will surround you like the echoing song of the birds that remain vigilant in the forest. You could try to escape, but remember in your revolt you already tore down the exit.

                There is a labyrinth, her soul, their souls; of these queens and one could explore it, each crevice and corner and discover it for the adventurer’s delight, but the sight, the smell, the image of these queens will leave you stranded in the end path. There are holes within this labyrinth, where the explorers have the option of losing themselves deeper in the tunnels. You can hear the queens humming tunes in your honour in those holes, the song of your ignorance and your plight. In this labyrinth there is wildlife, the insects and animals of the forest have unwilling become entranced too. You may see the animals in bands, singing their litanies of remorse. Do stop on your travels once and kill one of them for quick feast, the taste of its flesh will be the taste of the queens. However, none can peel the skins of the queens, so no one will ever truly know.

                Now there was Sachi, the queen of my boyish desires.

                Resonating in the soul, like the single lit home of the quaint middle-eastern village the sound of her alluring voice draws me closer and closer. She will lead me on, I will know this, but I will follow until cut from the chain of her oppression I so deeply desire. She is not the most beautiful of these queens, but by choosing her my blade shall cut fewer emperors. Sachi has a fan with a pure white dragon that is proclaiming its domination over the black dragon. They both use yellow flames, but the white dragon clearly has flames of superiority. Her teeth are a faded black Sachi has known the fruit of human desire, though for my boyish desires I am enticed even more by this discovery. She keeps a solemn sparrow on her lap, it sometimes rattles and vibrates. To my ears it sings a litany of eternal remorse, but conceals it as a song of great beauty. Is it a possible key to the labyrinth? I dare not ask it, I perish the thought, for if connected with Sachi so much, it, like the queens, will only do grievous harm.

                Her hair is what grabbed at and aroused my interests. Her lustrous, nearly glistening hair appearing more like the threads of the most elaborate garments to be worn by the most elegant of celestial beings. Her hair twisted the reality of those who stared too long in awe. She has the power to crush you under her nails, the well painted ones that made her fingers seem to have jewels attached to the tips. I had dreams of cutting just one strand, taking it and running away, but I am cursed by memories inability to halt, though I could attempt to shut my ears from alluring sounds.

                She doesn’t speak aloud, her voice is omnipotent, and she can speak to you just by the wave of her arm. Her blackened smile will tell you your fate, it’s not possible to ignore her, and truly impossible to not be indulged. Her words are sharp, and crispy, yet harmonic in the ears of those who are deeply in the illusion. The emperors are those who I claim lucky, they hear not only the sweet sound of her voice in my knowledge, but they get to hear the sweeter foreign sounds of her voice. Her tongue I always imagine must be coated with the holiest of syrups, the kind of which the soul yearns, but never acquires. Like the princess depends on that kiss of eternal happiness in folklore’s, I have fallen so far into my unwanted addiction that I base my life on one day receiving the sticky kiss of Sachi.

                In my seat I sometimes succumb to my unfathomable hunger for her. You of course you can understand that my focus was never on the lecture at hand and my eyes were precisely directed on Sachi. Sometimes she would turn her neck gracefully around, and for a moment I would meet her angelic gaze. If she had worthy purpose of me and requested of my knowledge I would answer as if it was my dutiful honour to pass on the knowledge she has required. In my past moments I have stalked her hand in waiting, maybe she would be out of ink, or run low on a supply of lead. I was excited for the day her utensil had fallen to the floor, a queen of her glory, beauty, and grace needn’t not to stoop down to pick it up. I had raced down to pick up the utensil, ravishing the notes that lay in front of me, but without a care for I was determined to out do the emperors. When I placed the sweet smelling object in front of her eyes, she looked down into my eyes and praised me for my deed. I almost looked too long into her pupils. I could feel my soul being eaten away. It was as if even her eyes could swallow me whole.

                When the anthem of impatient scholars and zippers would play, and the chime signalling them to march on to their next scheduled location would ring. I followed behind Sachi closely. Unaware of my presence she walks through the halls I follow her like a bodyguard to her destination. She may turn around as if she senses my presence, but I hide my grotesque imagine, (well grotesque in comparison to her image) in my books. She shall not see me. I must have great fortune for I have similar destinations I share with Sachi. She sits on her throne in the centre of the class, and the subjects that worship her as I do sit around. I am envious of the emperors who have claimed seats so close at her left and right hand. I am distant, two seats behind. Before the lecture of the chemistry king begins, I make my move, a move in a vague attempt for acknowledgement. Yesterday I had looked too long into her eyes and now I am temporarily in a state of hypnosis. In this hypnosis she ordered a present, a gift not too grand, yet far from simple. I brought her a necklace of the finest metals and it had only cost me an unsatisfied stomach for one month. I was overjoyed by the purchase.

                In so much respect for her traditions I knelt slightly and presented the box which hosted the necklace. She looked at it, “what’s this?” she said her accent sent soothing vibrations down my body. I opened the box to reveal the jewel, however Sachi still looked puzzled.

                “Why are you giving me this?” she said.

                I looked her in the eyes briefly, I had no words to say, I placed the opened box on her desk, and in disappoint I had walked back to my domain. I could see them already in my mind, in my mind’s complex world of illusion; the emperors would be glaring at me. How dare I give their queens a gift? How dare I showcase my feelings and intentions? They will laugh at me now, they will laugh hysterically, and each chuckle will pierce my heart. Sachi will laugh too, as they make their comments, the target will be my differences, and they will make bows with my flaws, and each painful remake will be the arrows. I know each arrow they fashion will be made for me.

                Then my heart will be ripped in two. I will witness the thoughtless nature of Sachi. She will start to make her own jokes; she will pick and prod at my pathetic display of affection. She will make the emperors laugh. They will talk more, and they will feel a deeper connection. Through my pain, I will have just supplied the emperors I despise so much with ample material to precede with their attempt to hold a queen. I will lose all concentration, you can imagine I did not have much to begin with and my thoughts have been coiled around Sachi for months. Then the jokes will get colder, I cannot prove this, but the jokes will be incomprehensible to me, and only comprehensible to the emperors.

                I want the emperors dead.

                I can plot forever, but I cannot do any harm. If I retaliate if I react, I will appear more of a barbarian than she most likely thinks of me. Though I dream of my revenge, where I tie the emperors and hang them. I dreamt other dreams, stabbing, running them over, drowning, beating, and burning them, these emperors have no idea of what my mind yearns for their fates. They say the green eyed monster is powerful, but I believe it only gives power. In my jealousy I do find comfort, but at the same time I find my shame. I know for today I have failed to earn Sachi’s favour, and I suffer dearly. The anthem will play again shortly, but this was the last destination of the day. What to do, what to do? My mind will repeat this as a litany.

                So I try again. I muster the strength that still lies within me, the will power that has not been completely dominated by Sachi. Once the class ends and she is about to leave I tap her on the shoulder. She turns around, I smile. She looks back at me puzzled; she has definitely adapted this look well towards me. Though I find myself in love with her face so much, I could care less of its position. I say hello, but  instantly at the fall of the “o” I have lost her interest, she walks away now, I can’t tell if she is annoyed, but I know the emperors have seen this, and again they have more reason to laugh. One more march of the day, the march of shame to my locker I have achieved nothing; I have done nothing, another day in my scrapbook of pointless dreams. Of course these dreams will be drowned in kerosene and burned in due time.

                I will walk out of the castle, the castle where the queens have residence for several hours of the day. I will see her, Sachi, and I will follow her, but I will remain far away, because I vomit at the thought of being noticed. My necklace has most likely been thrown out. Now just a relic of the human being’s neglect to recycle properly as it lay in a trash receptacle. I will walk now and blast my symphonies of remorse and depression as I walk down the street. Although many walk down this street alike, I have isolated myself from their presence. Someone will say hi to me, but they will get no response. Then in a sudden spark and want to be polite, I will wave, but then walk with increasing speed.

                My eyes will remain diligent and focused intently on Sachi. I will not let her out of my sight, I am scarred and somehow I feel she has not fulfilled her duties as a queen. Her radiant glow has dimmed and still slowly fades, the illusion of her goddess persona also fades in my mind.

                I remember what Sachi does every time she goes home, I am not a stalker or anything and my discovery was a complete accident (I hope that that is believable). She will take a shortcut home, which will lead her through a short path in a slightly wooded area beside a subway station. She usually travels alone, not one person from the school claims residence past that area. She will know how hurt I have been, she will know the harm she has inflicted on my soul and my feelings.

                I will rape Sachi.

                I will peel the protective skin from Sachi, ripping off the jewel infested kimono. I will smear the makeup all over her body, and penetrate the fortress of my boyish desires. I will laugh as I do it, laugh as she laughed at me and she will know that this is her time to bare karma. I will taste the sweet nectars of Sachi, and force her to taste the sweet nectars I produce. Then I will rip her eyes out, and release the souls she had devoured, and release the boys who have suffered under her seductive oppression, all of them excluding the emperors. She will scream, and she will try to go free, but I will wrap the threads of her head around her neck and I will choke her to death with them, but not before I get the chance to hear one last sentence, from her magnificent thin soft lips.

                “You are my Emperor,”

                I will burn her body, setting flame to the labyrinth, and with that, I will set out for the other queens. It is I now who will do grievous harm.

Author's Note

This piece was recently finished, I am now ready to hear comments and opinions, I will be editing this piece more.

Reviews

[Ashley.M.E]

This is really good! I didn't see one error, nor did the flow ever seem to stop... Being dyslexic it takes me a lot longer to read then the adverage person, but my eyes never left the page, you are a great writing, I am glad to see you write stories, as well as poems.