Grave Three: Lazarus

   I was cold. Filled with an icy touch that penetrates every inch, when one can feel their very insides sliding against each other. In contrast, the warm air burned my skin, beads of sweat formed on my forehead, then dripped down, leaving fiery trails on my face and neck.
   I opened my eyes, two things hit me. First, was the sight and scent of roses. Bouquet upon bouquet of them, scattered about my apartment on whatever surface was available. Second, was the (and by now, somewhat familiar) was realization that I was alive to behold the first. I felt a stinging sensation in the palm of my hand, and looked down the see a slightly bruised, quite wilted rose clutched in it. I immediately let go in surprise. My hand ached as if I had been holding it that way for a very long time. All the terrors of that night nearly surfaced again and I shuddered, trying to surpress the memory. I sat up and immediately regretted it as vertigo slammed my brain. A burgundy velvet jacket that had been covering me slid off. Baffled, I picked it up and contemplated it for a second. I had no recollection of every seeing this jacket before, and it smelled faintly of...cinnamon. Tearing myself away, I looked up at the roses.

  Hundreds of them. More than I had ever seen, ever at my mother's funeral. They covered the narrow kitchen counter, sat on the sofa, lined the walls. There was no doubt in my mind that this was all by the one who had "saved" me before, that much was clear in all this nonsense. Were they mocking me? I growled in frustration and attempted to stand, but was forced back down as a wave of nausea and exhaustion hit me. I was suddenly aware again of the room's burning temperature and my abnormally low one.
  Slowly, I managed to half crawl, half drag myself to the large bay window near my bed. After catching my breath, I opened it and let the cool evening air flow inside the room. I sank back down on the wall and sulked for a moment over my physical and over-all helplessness. It seemed I'd lost control of everything from free movement to the very decision to live or die, here I was on the floor of my s****y apartment too sick to even make it back to bed, and surrounded by flowers as if this was some sort of shrine.
   A pang of despair gripped my heart, a knot began to build in my chest. How long would I have to go on like this? Even death was refused to me, by some one I'd never seen and yet couldn't escape. Steamy tears began to spill from my eyes, the painful sensation on my skin making even more of them fall. For a long moment I stayed there slumped against the wall, too tired inside and out for anything. I closed my eyes, but I couldn't sleep. My mind was far to disturbed to rest now, far too scared of my future, even just waking up tomorrow...and the day after that, and the morning that would inevitably come next. How long would I exist resenting and dreading life more than ever before? For what seemed like an hour, my mind drifted in and out of troubled consciousness, ignoring how sore I was getting from my odd position on the floor. Reality was too terrible to be visited at the moment...until I heard the lock click and the door of the apartment open.
  My whole body half-tensed and I tried my hardest to get up but found the rest of me unresponsive. My eyes could barely open to a squint, and their vision was too hazy to make out more than colorful bunch of dots. Inside, I was panicked and on the verge of desperate tears again, I could hear creaking footsteps drawing closer and closer as I struggled to move, but again, to no avail.
   An oncoming lapse of nauseous unconsciousness threatened again at the edges of my mind and as I began to slip out,  I could feel someone lift me and place my limp form back on the futon. Cold hands gently yet firmly grasped my shoulders and raised me into to a sitting position.
  A hand moved to my chin and pried my mouth open; hot, metallic liquid began to flow into it. Blood. I sputtered and tried to cough it up the best I could, but most still managed to slip down my throat. I could feel it traveling into my body, burning in my stomach and lungs and even my veins, mixing into my own blood, until my whole body tingled with restored feeling. The omnipresent chill was gone, but my body now lacked any response to demands for movement. I was completely paralyzed. I lay isolated in quiet darkness, my eyes closed and nothing left but simple exhaustion. The Stranger was still there, I could sense them, but they did nothing further besides let me slide back into a laying postition. I bristled with a cold, indignant rage, feeling as though their silence mocked me. Then all my thoughts and panic was interrupted when a hand softly touched the side of my face, and a deep, reassuring voice spoke out from beside me.

   "Don't be afraid, rakastettu, I am Amadeus."

  The outrage and fear squirming beneath my skin obligingly quieted down to a tense prickling sensation. The voice was hypnotic. Sensuous, persuasive and commanding. The short sentence hung in the air sweet and languid like syrup. The conscious portion of my mind took a moment to digest that this stranger, this force that had entered my life twice now, was...tangible. He was a man, assuredly, but this information only opened up a another wide corridor of questions. My thought were interrupted once more as he spoke again.

   "I'm not going to hurt you, Artemis." He reassured gently. "I have only tried to preserve you"

   Silence was the only answer I was able to give him. I was able to discern an accent to his speak now, as well as an old-fashion, halted quality, I tried to absorb his statement fully. I didn't want to be saved, or "preserved". Maybe a month again someone could have saved my mother, but now I was just as far gone as she.

   "You hold such an overwhelming amount of sorrow, it's almost impossible for one think it all that belongs to one heart." Amadeus's voice seemed to sadden a note as he continued, like my despair affected him somehow. "I found you because of this pain, I could feel it radiate, overwhelming and pure, even from so far oaway. I want to help you, Artemis..." He was now speaking in a wistful, hushed tone. "...I can't let you die now that I've found so much more to you than suffering"

   I listened in quiet awe to every word he said. The entire scene was spiraling farther away from my idea of reality. Amadeus' pause grew into silence again, as I waited for him to continue, I could feel the warmth of what had to be the morning sun slowly begin to creep in from the window. It made me shiver with it's delightful heat inside the usually chilly apartment. Amadeus made a frustrated sound, it yanked my mind back from pondering to the present situation.
   "I...must leave now. Please be...careful." He leaned closer, I felt his breath against the side of my face. He touched my cheek, in an almost reverent manor.  And then suddenly as he had appeared, I could no longer feel him near me. With a rewarding effort, I groggily opened me eyes, but no one was there. Soft rays of early sunlight sifted through the gloomy darkness, a scent of cinnamon lingered faintly in the air, and the roses lay strewn about, just as before. No one. Looking down, I saw that beside me, in addition the rose I had so faithfully held onto in the river, was yet another. It was deep pink in the edges of it's petals, fading softly to snowy white towards the center. Like snow stained with blood.
   "Amadeus..." I whispered to the empty room.

Author's Note

Please understand that I began this years ago as a very depressed preteen. But I welcome positive and negative feedback.

Reviews

[DarkAspen]

Great job!