Asphodel
© 2016 E. A. Black
I
have spent more than half a lifetime trying to express the tragic moment. -
John Locke
It was with a deep and vexing disquietude I regarded
my mistress, Berenice. Such vivacity! Such radiance! Her very essence breathed
life into this dreary household. She, agile, graceful and overflowing with
energy, overwhelmed my master, her cousin Egaeus, a man of as much darkness as
Berenice was of light. She eclipsed him in my eyes; and I basked in her sanguine
presence; reveled in the sweet scent of her raven hair as I brushed it
one-hundred strokes each night. Her
very being warmed every room in which she reposed, warding off the deep chill
that permeated stone and mortar. Her lilting voice brought joy unto bleak halls and draughty
rooms; so fortuitous was her chosen lyric: "Smit with those charms, that must decay,
I grieve to
see your future doom;
They died - nor were those flowers more gay - The flowers
that did in Eden bloom. Unpitying frosts and Autumn's power
Shall leave no
vestige of this flower." Alas! If only I could have foreseen what was to
come!
It was my function to tend to my lady's needs, and I
did so to the best of my ability. I carried to her tea by the dawn's early
light and warm milk as the stars ascended the heavens. The mere thought of her
brought a skip to my step and a leap of my heart. I dressed her, fed her,
bathed her; I indulged in her soft skin and gentle caresses. When I poured her
bath, I gazed longingly at her svelte form. Such beauty! Neither Leonardo's
sensuous Leda nor Dandini's spirited Helen outshined this fair woman. Aphrodite
in all her glory could not surpass the exquisiteness that was Berenice.
Nocturnal cravings beget fever dreams that burned at my
very core; and in my shame I fed my hunger, quenched my thirst for her but in
my solitude she became larger than life itself. I followed her, petted her, and
would have fallen to her feet should she have but asked yet she did not regard
me in the same fashion. The focus of her lusts and adoration was the wretched Egaeus.
He, in turn, ignored her ministrations, much to my growing pleasure. She wept
on my shoulder nightly, and I stroked her hair and skin, lending comfort but
craving more. As her cries and desperation grew, I was emboldened; caressing her
slender form until I at long last gave in to desire, brushing light kisses
against her wet cheeks and weeping, closed eyes.
She regarded me as if seeing me for the first time. My
Berenice, my Leda, my Helen, whose heart was stolen from me by another yet she
returned at the mere touch of my lips! My obsession knew no bounds; the mere
touch of her lustrous tresses or the scent of her on her nightgown drove me
into paroxysms of euphoria.
In time I took to wearing her discarded linens, feeling
the silk that had touched her tenderness so sweetly. I wore them beneath my
daily dress with her none the wiser. I once wore one of her chemises for seven
fortnights before washing it so I could feel as if she lay skin to skin with
me. Her pantalettes caressed my lower body, touching my heat. I breathed in her
aroma as if devouring her. I longed to feel her warmth between my thigh and
against my lips, but her undergarments were a poor substitute.
She grew to anticipate my advances yet she resisted, pained
by her obsession with Egaeus and her descent into martyrdom. Alas! Her dignity
of body forbade her rest with me, and I was taken with her stately lassitude,
which grew as her cousin's interest in her faded.
The pall that descended upon this alluring creature
came upon gradually at first. Lethargy extinguished the light in her eyes and spread
across her face, destroying its radiance. Raven hair had gone as yellow as the asphodel
that grew along the walkways outside our residence. Such small blooms bode ill,
a portent of the rise of Thanatos.
Fits soon followed the caul of deterioration. Her
species of epilepsy often ended with trance, as if she departed her body;
spirit floating about the eaves like the lost soul she was. My darling
Berenice! So bereft of joy! With sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, she roamed the
yawning corridors, lost in her troubled thoughts. She rejected food and drink.
Rest came with difficulty and sleep was lost to Stygian shores. Ribs rippled
through her skin and her spine grew so prominent I agonized over her well-being.
This revenant, this specter replaced my beloved Berenice like a changeling
invading in infant's cradle.
As her illness overwhelmed her vitality and essence, Egaeus
regarded her with great interest, becoming obsessed with her fading condition. In
his monomania he regarded only her sweet mouth, in particular those shiny white
pearls that lurked within. I caught him drawing her lips away from her teeth as
she slept under the surreal spell of laudenum. She was none the wiser, but I
witnessed his despoilments on many occasions. Rather than risk losing my
position, I said nothing nor did I make my presence known.
Only when this broken flower approached the dark shade
of her final night did he propose marriage. Woe unto me, her remaining spirit
lifted and she accepted his offer. She retreated from my advances, feeding on
his growing scrutiny. I increased my adoration in quite a shameful manner,
throwing myself to the floor in front of her to rub my hair against her feet,
an act that repulsed her. By the blanket of night I slipped into her room
whilst she slept and stole her perfumes to wear upon my person so her scent
would float about me always, but her sweet bouquet devolved from the freshest
of roses and lavender to a sickly undertone of the grave.
Her fits grew more intense and frequent, soon
relegating her to bed on a permanent basis. Weak and still as her winter
descended, she was helpless to resist my attentions, although she whimpered in
my presence. I stole moments with her when Egaeus departed her rooms to pour
over his antiquarian volumes. Although he wished for her death and I wished for
her life, we both wished for her total subjugation to our will, but I achieved
my goal before he. A prisoner to my benefaction, I stroked her as I bathed her
and enjoyed stolen moments brushing my lips against her pallid skin as I
dressed her. For weeks I tended to my needs in every touch of her skin and each
stroke of my hand. Following each fit, she grew weaker and, lacking hope, she
retreated into her mind which was as broken as her body.
Following an energetic fit, her breath eased from her
lungs and her heart lay quiet, and I took advantage of the hushed moment. After
stripping myself of my clothing, I slid beneath her bed linens to lie next to
her. Behind locked doors I caressed her still warm flesh beneath her silk
nightgown, imagining pulsations beneath her skin and the rise and fall of her
sunken chest, yet neither were to pass. I lifted her in my arms; her head hung
backwards at an odd angle, mouth gaped open, lips cracked from illness. Drunk
with desire, I slid beneath her gown to caress and kiss her heat, wishing for
reaction whether eager or reluctant yet getting neither. My Berenice, lost to
the Keres, and lost to me forever! The tenebrous mouths of death gnashed their
teeth upon us both, and woe! I felt as lost in life as she was in death. I
dressed and ran to Egaeus, told him of Berenice's misfortune, and he crumbled
into a heap, burying himself in morbid contemplation. The early morning closed
upon me thus; I fled by harsh light to my room to tend to my misery alone and
shorn of joy.
As night devoured day, her funeral preparations were
set, she was laid to rest, and I gathered her silken gowns, pantalettes, and
chemises for storage, secretly keeping some garments for myself to bring her to
life if only in my troubled mind. Exhausted, I retreated to my bed and soon
fell into fitful sleep. I then found myself lying spread-eagle in my bed, Berenice's
pantalettes bunched between my thighs. A wild, disturbing cry awakened me from
my nocturnal sufferings and I stumbled, weak and confused, into the hallway. I
followed my fellow servants to Berenice's resting place to find a horror more dreadful
than my weak mind could fathom; a terror more insane than death itself. My
Berenice lay in her grave as spread-eagle as I had lain in my bed, her head
twisted at an obscene angle, gasping, blinking, and wide-eyed; her gaping,
bloody maw stripped of teeth. At the sight of her I knew Egaeus had violated
her in a way I could only dream, and in the end he had the upper hand. I had
lost my Berenice forever, unable to give to her what Egaeus had forced upon her
so viciously. She wailed, incoherent words poured from her mangled slit of a
mouth, crazed eyes gaped at me begging for explanation, and with a cold heart I
turned, walked away, and never looked back.
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