Unwelcome Visitations

By: Chryseas Posted on: October 31, 2011

'Today is going to be so great! Wait, why today?' I look down and notice my young, child-like hands and small feet. That's right, I'm in my best dress today. Mama said I looked so pretty and that I had to look good for the auditions today. "I want to sing!" I beam proudly then look to my right; my good friend is there.

He's only a year older than me at 10 years old, but he has an air about him. People say that, about him. Today his mom slicked his short, ebony black hair back; it made him look so professional. His face is still so cherub-like as he smiles brightly at me, cradling his lute carefully. "You'll be great! I'll play music for you. Then we can be a duet!"

I laugh and giggle, so high on life. I spin and twirl for him; I love the feeling of just letting go of the world in my dizzying rotations. My own glossy white-blonde hair flares about me like a parasol and my skirt mirrors it in parallel. I look like an exotic human top spinning brightly in the light of the morning sun.

My friend laughs heartily, then beats his hooves on the cobblestone in time with my spinning, building up a bass. Mithal started humming to himself as he concentrated on the beat, then struck up a few chords on his lute. He strummed and every note was perfect.

During my one spin I thought I saw something red running down the lute. I kept watch, each spin, redder, my spinning slowed but his music did not. It was a flurried frenzy as I watched his fingertips bleeding down the side of his lute.

"Mithal... "

Strumming... strumming... never faltering.

"Mithal!"

Glistening, hot, scarlet drops coated the strings of the lute, dripping inside and down the front. The music from the lute became more metallic to my ears. 'Stop!' I sobbed, tears staining my dress, and clutched my ears, until I could stand it no longer.

"MITHAL!!" I shrieked with all my might, every breath my little lungs could exhale and woke from my sleep, screaming his name.

Sweat slicked my forehead, my hair was damp, but I remembered my dream like the aftertaste of a good wine. I ran my hands along my bedspread, making sure I wasn't dreaming this too.

Slowly my eyes were adjusting to my night-darkened bedroom, I ran my hands across my face and pushed my hair back. The years were kind to me thus far, I'm always grateful for that. Being an adult now has its trials but I wouldn't trade it for childhood. I felt so free in that dream, but that's all it was, a dream. The past is meant to stay in the past.

I cast light about the room uncertainly, searching the shadows as my heart beats slow to normal. I slipped out of bed and walked to the window, gazing out into the fading remnants of the night. Mithal... My good friend from childhood, had passed to Maya's Halls not a week before. We weren't terribly close as we grew up and apart, but I think of him still.

That dream... he felt so real and vibrant. I know in my heart it was his soul. I can't explain it, but I just know.

'No use trying to sleep now. Dawn approaches and the nightmares will only come again if I manage to sleep at all.' I've become too used to these nightly haunts. They're nothing terribly scary or gruesome except for the fact that it's -him-. Why me? We weren't even friends at the end, not that I didn't grieve for him, but it doesn't make sense.

Getting dressed was just a set of mind-numbing automatic motions that I didn't even notice. I grab a few ginseng roots and eat them systematically as well to calm my stomach. Walking down the streets to the shop, people grieved over the loss of such a well-known bard. He did touch many lives; even in the darkest wars and strifes he had a perfect tale to tell with his music.

Sighing, I brush by a crowd ogling a likeness of him. 'This is too much. They didn't even know him.' I shrug, what can be done after all, so I endure it.

Working at the shop and assisting customers with their wares was delightfully dull. Restocking and pricing items was exactly what I needed today. My mind just did not want to think of anything, blank all thoughts out and concentrate on the repetition.

Golden orange rays of light cascade across the floor, sunset is here. Taking a deep breath I gather the key and lock the stock room securely for the night. My heeled boots make a soft click-clack on the cobblestone pavement as I make my way to the subdivision once more. The trees are turning colours again; I've always loved the Fall. The world seems to explode with colour in Cyrene while bracing itself for the winter storms.

An unseasonably cold wind blows across my cheek... wait, a caress? I turn to look behind me, then to the right and left. I search and cast light into the area, but I see no souls near me. I meander into the subdivision, shaking my head of ghosts and spirits. I have enough trouble without adding to my own paranoia.

As the night drags on I sit in my bed, it's late now, but I just sit and stare, sipping at the tea Melodia packed for me to bring home. She swears by it for many ailments, but what would you expect from someone selling her own homemade brew. I chuckled to myself at the thought, understanding well the mercantile mind.

I retrieve an egg and sphere shaped crystal by my nightstand, then spin the two. Smiling softly as I watch them whirl and embed a beautiful Harmony vibe. I'm immediately filled with peace and calm from the vibe as the tea works to warm me from within as well.

That's what I needed, to relax and loosen my muscles. I breathe deeply of the tea's aromatic steam. Exhaling slowly, calming my senses, I feel a little more relaxed. Placing the tea on the side table I stretch and nestle down into the covers. Maybe tonight will be different...

The Theatre Prophasia looked amazing, it was perfectly decorated for this event and Mithal looked so handsome in his formalwear. His hair is longer now at twenty-one years old, he has it tied back with a bit of sable silk. Even his horns look polished and ready for the stage. People within the audience chattered to the sides of me...

"Acoustics are amazing here."

"I've seen him twice already!"

"Always a great show."

"So talented!"

I feel my lips curl into a pleased smile that is evident across my whole face. He deserves all his accolades. He's an amazing performer and deserves this. Life looked so bright. I ran my hands down the bodice of my sequined gown. I feel like a princess wearing such finery.

Mithal takes centre stage now, asking for the audience's attention. He takes a seat on a stool while his counterpart joins him for vocals. She's a pretty thing, auburn hair with a dainty mouth. It would figure that a Siren would play vocals for him; I hope she doesn't cause trouble amongst the men. It would ruin his performance and he doesn't deserve that.

I can't help but think that I should have been the one up there. The Concertmaster felt my fairer features against Mithal's darker would've made a pleasing contrast but that his audience would prefer a Sireni voice. I gave up my dreams of being a bard singer that day... Mithal fought for me, but it was just the latest rejection in a string of attempts at making that duet happen for us.

It could not rival my passion of Voicecraft, but I decided the life of a Magi would fit well enough. I embraced the elements with all my heart but something still missed what Mithal and I had shared. The dream that was now the shadow of children's fancies.

Mithal strikes up the first chords and I stand, mesmerized by him. He always drew eyes no matter where he went. They call it charisma; I only know he was exquisite. His Sireni counterpart eased into the lyrics and I walked closer to the stage, not for her, for him. I wanted to drink in this experience.

All of a sudden, Mithal stopped; he placed a hand on the singer's wrist stopping her as well. "Rella?" He peered out into the audience, lost and confused. "Rella, where are you?"

"I'm right here Mithal! Keep playing! You're doing great." I was at the front of the stage now, looking right up at him.

"Rella??? You said you'd come. I can't see you!" His eyes narrowed into the audience, searching each face and completely missing me.

"Mithal! I'm here!! I'm -right- here!" I wave my hands at him now, not wanting to stall his performance any longer.

Softly, he whispers, pained and distraught, "You're not here..."

The audience vanished, even the Sireni singer, almost like they were all summoned away by a brazier. 'Wait, what? What happened?' I turned quickly back to Mithal trying to shout to him. "Mithal!! Look down here!"

Blood tears dripped from his eyes, falling on his lute. His one hand clutched his chest while the other slackened on the instrument he loved so dearly. "Where did you go?" he spoke so softly I don't know how I heard. The lute fell from his hands with a resounding CRASH!

I gasped deeply for air as thunder crashed around my house and I sat up straight in bed. My back was tensed and upright of its own will. BOOM! The storm outside was thunderous for attention.

I grabbed for the cup of soothing tea by the bed. Cold. I drank what I could but it didn't have the same effect after hours of being left to cool. I inhaled and exhaled to compose myself before I started panicking, then sat trying to recall what happened.

My hands still shook from that dream and the compounded natural forces outside my window. I gathered my blanket about me like a cloak despite not being cold. It felt safe and comfortable to be enveloped in its plush embrace. I watched lightning streak the sky in the distance.

"Lord Vastar is having a lovely time out there..." I whisper softly to myself, just trying to bring back some normalcy to the night. "Another sleepless night... or restless... something." I talked to myself to soothe my nerves.

"I should take Seri's advice and just stay home. She can restock the shop without me... even if I've taken that duty on myself and forced her to do the trading and buy supplies from afar instead." It felt good to talk, even if just to myself. "Yes, staying home sounds good. She'll understand and know the reason."

I found some more tea, again cold. I conjured my efreeti and handed him the tea a moment. Once returned, it was delightful and extremely soothing. I set him to stand in the darkest corner until he vanished as a comfort to my nerves. I grabbed a bit of cohosh and chewed the bitter root before washing it away with tea. I didn't want to sleep again, not yet.

With my blanket wrapped around my shoulders still I dragged my favourite rocking chair to the window. I arranged myself into a comfortable, snuggled position and rocked gently watching the rain and lightning outside. The thunder didn't scare so much when you could see it coming.

I remember that concert from my dream. I never made it that night to the theatre... I was dressed and ready to go, but I could not make myself move to leave the house. It was a selfish thing to do and I felt like the most horrible friend ever. That was our falling out; he misunderstood my reasoning and thought I was mad at him. I wasn't... It was just too painful to see him up there with her. I did go to a rehearsal and heard about the event later from friends, but I did not go to any of his performances for that concert series.

The old pain crept up in my heart as I watched the rain patter against the windows. The thunder and lightning had abated now thankfully. But I watched the rain and grey sky loom over the world. As the sun finally peeked its head out through the clouds, I felt more at ease. Restless nights and the freedom from a day at the shop allowed me to relax enough to slip into sleep while rocking by the window.

My dream carried me to that familiar serpentine road with the shining emerald city in the distance. I was walking with a bounce in my step and a strange travelling outfit. I wore a loose cerulean silk blouse and black sturdy trousers, with durable sable boots. Ahead and to the right I see a taller figure and two shorter ones skipping in circles, hand in hand, by the side of the road. 'How odd. They look happy though.'

I come closer and the figures resolve into two children, dressed in white tunics and white sandals. Both have shoulder-length pure white hair that flutters in the breeze created by their frolicking. My friend Mithal leads their antics. He's smiling so brightly and singing a happy childhood song to them.

Mithal is in a flowing white shirt and knee length beige pants. His hooves are bared and making imprints in the grass as he bends the blades underfoot. His ebony hair is slightly tousled and tied back from his face again. He did prefer that style more as he grew older; it made him look refined even if his hair was tousled a bit.

"Come join us Rella!" He calls out to me. I giggle in reply; they look like they're having great fun. I walk up to join them and they pause to make introductions. He releases their hands and stands behind them.

The children slowly turn and I can see their skin is a mottled pasty white with unseeing eyes. Their eyes had no irises and simply glowed an eerie white luminescence. Each child sported a mindseye tattoo squarely in the middle of their foreheads which seemed more like scars than inks. The children's mouths were turned into happy smiles. It was a gruesome contrast for such delighted children to look so ghostlike and seemingly "blank". I gasped in distress and took a step back from them.

Mithal didn't notice anything wrong, he nodded to one, "This is Ralia", then the other, "This is Mirlon." He smiled brightly, a smile too large and wide for it to be physically possible. "These are my children."

'Children? Mithal has no children... never had...' I shake my head, tears streaming down my face as a part of me remembers the reality.

All three of them reach out to me with palms open and beckoning. "Come, Rella, come play. Sing for us." Each palm, even Mithal's was stained with blood where they had held hands previously. It dripped from their hands and disappeared before hitting the ground. The side of Mithal's face had a runnel of blood coming from his scalp now.

Mithal turns to the two children, "Come children, she doesn't want to play now." The three bloody spectres held hands and were gone in a bright flash of light that burned my eyes. I screamed in agony and despair to find myself jolted awake by a strong ray of noon sunshine slashing across my face.

My teacup had fallen turned on its side with the contents already evaporated and dried. My body aches as I reach to rub my temples. 'Mithal always wanted children. He said two would be perfect, a girl and a boy.' I gasp lightly, "His unborn children... the ones he always wanted." The thought made me cry tears I hadn't felt in many years now.

Childhood dreams do not always last, but apparently childhood emotions and friendships do, in their own way.

Why do these dreams haunt me so? Why is he? I cannot doubt it is him now. Strange as that may seem to anyone else, my heart knows his like none other. Maybe it's because his birthday is tomorrow? He would have been thirty-five... So young to be lost to this world. Mayaween is around the corner too, when the veil between the worlds thin and in places break completely.

Shuddering, I remember the coming of Griesly Manor; its time to rise has come again just a few nights past. Seri was delighted and ready to explore dressed as a seductive vampire. I was like that, the last Mayaween. This one is just too bitter so close to the loss of a friend.

I sigh deeply, taking in the precious air. "The baths will calm me."

I dress, then make my way there. I pay the appropriate fees and have a room to myself. Slipping in, the water is just right. My aches and strains are eased away in the warmth of the water and the fragrance of roses around me. The steam is delightful to my senses and clears away the stuffiness from my tears.

"I can't keep this up." I talk to myself again, just needing to voice things, even if no one hears. "Sleep, not sleep, dream and not dreaming. It'll make me sick. But what to do?"

I let my body sink into the water, up to my nose where I can breathe but be as submerged as possible. It feels wonderful. I lean my head back against the bath tub which is hard but exactly what I need. I can't afford to sleep again, not here and not now. 'Having a towel boy rush in on me would not be the best experience in my life.'

I watch the steam billow and curl about the pillars. Their dance was hypnotic, allowing my mind to wander freely through my thoughts. The steam was solidifying and now there's a distinct shape to them. My mind barely registers the strangeness as I watch, unable to do anything.

Mithal's face, moulded by the steam was coming closer... closer... I was horrified and frozen as if paralyzed. Thankfully my mouth was under the water or I might've screamed. His face came within inches of mine, nearly nose to nose, and a hand-like smoky shape drifted to the right side of my face and caressed it from temple to chin. He smiled, but it was a pained smile, like something lost but remembered in a moment. Then, he was gone.

The steam dissipated as if nothing had happened. I pinch myself in the water and sit straight up gasping, "Ow!" I roll my eyes at myself, "Smart, Rella. Really smart." I peer around my surroundings, hugging myself with my arms for comfort. "At least I wasn't sleeping..."

"But is that really a -good- thing?"

I remember winding down the streets mindlessly the rest of the day; Centre Street, Ruminic, Darfinia, names passing in a blur. I only know I somehow made it to Melodia for more tea to bring home. I walked myself until I was too exhausted to stand up when I got home. I thought if I were completely fatigued I wouldn't dream.

I was wrong.

I placed my cups of tea on the table by my front door then kicked off my boots on the way to the bed. I barely got my coat off and tossed it to the floor before I fell into my comfortable bed. I gathered my blanket around me and curled up into a tight ball.

Sleep came quickly and I was grateful, but then the dreams came again...

Mithal looked so resplendent in the light of dawn. He wanted to take me out especially today and have Thomas, the carriage driver, give us a tour of the groves. He had his hair pulled back in a tight ponytail today, with a few stray strands framing his face. With his poet's light cream collared shirt and glossy black slacks with polished dress shoes, he looked the perfect bard.

I was in a pale blue sundress and fashionable white leather boots with blue embroidery. We were quite a matched pair, sitting in the carriage and delighting at the beauty around us. The smell of roses was so strong today; I guess the foliage was in full bloom.

He looked to me and gave a beautifully joyous smile that lit up his face. Bending down to pick up his lute that I didn't notice before at his feet, he adjusted his position so he could cradle it properly in his lap. "I have a song for you, Rella. It's one that flows through my mind whenever I see you."

I beam brightly, then look down at his lute and notice a red rose out of the corner of my eye in my lap. I pick it up; curious as to why I didn't know it was there before as I prick my finger on a thorn. The drop of blood pools and I remember.

I reach my other hand to gently touch his arm, stopping him. "Mithal... you're... you're dead..." I speak softly and with compassion, hoping he understands.

He doesn't even look at me. He pauses as I caress his arm and looks down towards his lute. A thoughtful expression on his face like he's weighing the words and measuring them in his mind. The implications of what I had said hitting home. He put down his lute and sat up straight, still thinking to himself, then was gone like a fog gusted away.

I woke instantly.

A single tear streaked down my cheek as I hug myself, cradling and rocking back and forth a bit. The grief of losing him poignant as ever.

The sound of a lute in the distance, clear and melodic, invaded my house. There was nothing melancholy in it, no haunting notes, nor was it jaunty. It was a pure sound, played by a master sending out classical notes to soothe for the unbiased emotion of wanting to create music.

I have never had another visit from Mithal in my dreams again. Just normal dreams of him, without the embodiment of his soul in my sleep like the past. It made it easier to move on and finish grieving the loss of him. I hope for his well-being and keep a portrait of him still, gotten long ago in a lock from Ashtan's jeweller.

Though, when the veil between planes thin near Mayaween that same musical lute accompanies my evenings and soothes me to sleep like a whispered reminder of my dearest friend.