L’obscurité

31/12/11

11:59 P.M.

Martinique, France

“You’ve got about 60 seconds until you’re going to have to absolutely book it! Êtes-vous prêt?” I shot an incredulous glance at the beaming boy beside me.

“Non, I am not “prêt”, are you mad!” I shout with a trifling glare. I turn my eyes back towards my reflection, gripping the countertop with anxious hands.

"Plongeon." I mutter lowly.

“Oh who do you think it will be? I am sure she will be beau! Chaud even! I cannot wait, je me demande if she even lives in Martinique!” I shut my eyes in disdain as the boy continues to ramble on about his incredulous fantasies.

There is a blank piece of paper in front of me. It simply reads, 'Martinique, France; Nicolas Gendron, Bonjour mon amour! :)'

My heart beats furiously against my chest, “I am so nerveuse…” I whisper in the midst of his words. I shut my eyes and breathe. There is a low beep. The countdown begins. Dix.

“Oh mon Dieu, it is so close...I cannot believe it.” Neuf.

I scoff in incredulous belief. Huit.

My fists clench involuntarily, I smile. Sept.

He laughs, clicking his shoes against the ground. Six.

“Prêt?” He whispers. Cinq.

“Non,” I chuckle. Quatre.

Prêt… Trois.

Ensemble… Deux.

Aller. Un.

“Bonne chance!” The ghostly reminiscence of the boy's words are lost as I open my eyes. I am not in my bathroom in front of that mirror. I am sitting in front of des feutres. My breathing is ragged, and the feeling of a new body is exhilarating.

My hands are pinned to my chest...non...à mon cœur. I am holding a soft piece of Papier amalfi...this paper is very beautiful, expensive. I look at these hands...they are rugueux, they are doux, smooth, big...chaud...not a woman’s...there is a ring on my finger...c'est adorable.

My eyes take a moment to take in my surroundings…silk-like curtained windows...the architecture of this place is beau...rustique. I look to the paper in front of me. It has few words, but one catches my eye the most, 'Arrivederci.' I do not know very much Italian...But I do know the word for au revoir. And for bonjour. And au revoir was the last word I expected to see. There is a name, a providence, and a short note. The paper is slightly damp. I reach to rub my eyes...they are wet. The paper reads as follows;

My name is Ivan Mazzanti, you are in Sicily, Italy, arrivederci amore mio. Please write something...mi piacerebbe incontrarti...in bocca al lupo.

‘Ivan…Certainement pas une femme’ I chuckle. It’s a light sound, but broken. There is no light aside from the dim shadow of a rose candle. Moonlight streams in, slicing the paper in half. It creates a luminescent atmosphere.

Ivan, we will meet, I will travel as far as I must. I do not want you to say au revoir, I want you to say bonjour, and je t’aime mon cher. My address is 97200 Fort-De-France, I hope you like the loo…

Amour, Nicolas.

I stand. The feeling of these dark surroundings...It feels as if someone watches me. I spin around, there is a door. It’s old, there is no denying that. But, it just adds to the utter perfection. Before I can fully understand it, the door is open, it calls for me. Ivan...venire…

“Je ne suis pas Ivan,” I whisper. The sound is comforting. It sounds of...how you say...Ensoleillement...Sunshine. It is light, it is beautiful. I move forward, I am scared, I do not want to go. But it calls for my hand, it is not up for me. It is for him. “Je t'en prie, non…”

“Ivan...Venire…” My body convulses as I move forward...non...My hands shake. I am done...it watches me, I feel the eyes. Accueil… His heart...it beats furiously against his chest...why does it frighten me so. J'ai peur…

Venire.

“Non!” I scream, but nothing comes of it, my feet move without me, and yet I still follow, so intrigued. The door...It is so beautiful. And the dark...It is so inviting...je n'ai pas peur….Or at least...that’s what I tell myself.

When does it end? It can’t be much longer...Or is this how it is to end, Est-ce ainsi que je dois aller...Non, there is no way.

Ivan...His name, it speaks of religion...you would...you would think he would be safe, that this would not occur. But, maybe he is no good, Peut-être qu'il est mauvais… The moon seems to do nothing but swallow up the light, it is an odd feeling, because, as I look to the open door, something watches me, it does not breathe, it is hungry…But I am calm, Je me sens à l'aise. Mais pourquoi?

I still hold the note from Ivan, I do not know when I picked it up. But I raise it to my heart, and I walk forward, because, I can do nothing else, I do not wish to resist, “La curiosité a tué le chat”, after all, right?

‘Venire…’

Oui, maîtriser…

I feel him inside of me, he screams, but he does not hold the control that I do. His body, It is mine, the feeling of it all is so insanely exhilarating, I cannot contain myself, I want to make it through that door, it is so dark, the darkness...it yearns for him, it calls for him, he doesn’t wish to face it. He is frightened. “Moi aussi, mon doux,” I whisper to him. It doesn’t calm him in the slightest, but it numbs the burning sensation in my fingers. He backs away, is this your way of giving up?

It is so close, the darkness, I can feel it reaching for me, feel it reaching for my heart. And yet, I am calm, but I am mad. Why does it yearn for the one that I am meant to be with? Or are we meant to fall together?

‘Non si deve andare più vicino, Nicolas,’ He speaks, but I do not understand the words, but they drip with such intensity, and such fear. I stop, dead in my tracks. It is not my decision, it tells me to, a sense of something I’ve never felt before washes over me.

I shut my eyes and lower my head, the pressure in my chest is gone…’Ivan where have you gone off to?’ I listen...all I hear is the sound of my breath, and a beat that does not belong to me. I feel something wet and warm roll down my cheek. I do not feel that urge to cry, it is not my will. He is here, with me. But he has left all the same...I feel so much, and yet my head is clear, but...but I know, I know what I am here for.

I feel something behind me, looming highly over my shoulder...it sends shivers down my spine, ‘Maintenant ou jamais’ His body, it shakes, and I have lost it...I have lost the control but only for a moment. But in that moment, he tries to run, I feel it in my bones, but it is time, time to face your fears. But it is too late for that isn’t it.

I feel a smile crawl to my lips...yes, mes lèvres. It is no longer his. It took him, silly Ivan...we could have had a life together. We could have grown, how you say, contento. But…I turn to the side, and open my eyes. There is no light. The moon seems to have disparu. But I see it, out of the corner...it is so grand...it swallows everything...my jaw quivers. Je suis seul dans ce. Connard.

“Nicholas…” I hear it whisper into my ear, so seductively. It is like that of a woman. The power of seduction will surely be the end of me. I turn to face it. “Venire…” It wanted him. My cheeks burn in anticipation, this must be it. This must be what I was so ready for. Because I am.

“Je Vais! Je Vais! Je viendrais!” The excitement is overwhelming as I lurch forward. I feel it consume me, but it hurts...non non non...ça fait mal! I moan in agony, I screech. It is puny. It is too much, I can’t but...I must. Pour Ivan. L'obscurité. I am not so prepared as to die...but…

“Troppo tardi,” it rumbles. I feel myself give out...but I don’t feel mon amour.

“Oui, Trop tard, en effet.” and just like that, it is gone. And I feel nothing.