by Kathleen Rounds
Isabelle rushed over to the fireplace quickly opening the
glass face of the mantle clock adjusting the minute hand. "Every minute
counts, must make it count." She whispered anxiously as the clock now correctly
showed 11:45 in the evening.
She couldn’t allow for any
minute to pass before it’s time. Time was of.... essence! How inane. Time,
essence. How did she let 50 years slip by? How did it happen?
"Not yet, not just yet!"
Isabelle muttered to herself. No, 14 more minutes and it would be 50 years.
Time starting over once more. The Gods knew she desired for them to simply
end .
She walked to the french
doors , the night crowding against the glass. The flickering light of the
fire casting a glow from the inside made it seem like a mirror. A mirror
that hid the lines that life had quietly etched on her face - no one ever
fully aware. How kind the reflection was, for in it youth and beauty were
all that could be seen. The long red hair, brighter and deeper than the
fire around her, still hung in it’s soft lustrous beauty. Her black dressing
gown, sheer, falling gently around her curves like a funeral shroud.
"So much love, so much passion."
She said as a small tear slid down her cheek.
All to offer freely, and
no one to take it, no one could take her into their heart. No one could
take the gift she offered. Until this day, it remained a mystery to her,
and couldn’t help asking herself; what was so wrong with her that she never
found love?
Would this be taken into
the next life? Would it simply evaporate, leaving her void and unable to
love. Decidedly, that would not be so bad. For she would not be hurt any
longer having passions to give, always hoping to receive. But she was so
tired of it all.
Isabelle was not a stranger
to the act of loving, the art of giving, nor the wisdom to know when. It
was her selfless desire to give the person that which they sought, which
was always a woman of mortal bonds. A woman available to the whims and
dreams of mortal desires. A woman to live a life of boundaries being a
receptacle for her partner. Always finding herself eager to give the man
a soulmate of their dreams, carrying perhaps that warmth of mortality she
lacked.
Never had she found a heart
that could see a semblance of these things in her. She traveled on a different
path. Always seeing what could not be seen by mortals. As hard as she would
try, she could never be entirely mortal. Her feelings were that of mortal
feelings, but perhaps with a love that was by far too deep. Because in
this love, she could not find it in her heart to deny what these men searched
for, and bring that desire into their lives for them.
She had found one singular
being. Isabelle had fallen in love in not too many years past. He was in
a mortal shell, but the man’s mind had gone beyond. In his birth he retained
his death therefore staying immortal. In his life he had been reflective,
always being part, but never being one of the crowd of mortals. His pain
had been great before she had meet him. And her hunger vast to leave the
love and wisdom she had gathered through ages as a gift to this one that
she loved. She could never let him know the magnitude such a gift could
hold, and the hidden knowledge it would impart. It was for him to discover,
for him to have the wisdom and love to know how to use it.
He had the lust and knew
the secret life could give. So simple, yet so hidden. The life was blood.
And in this content, was the web of the universe. The knowledge of ages.
A gift carried with her from life to life.
She remembered seeing his
face, feeling his touch. His dark knowledge had stirred her deeply. He
had reached down beyond her passion, beyond her love, and tasted the soul
that was uniquely hers. How rare, how wonderful and filled with ecstasy
she was, that a creature as wonderful as he could know the way to her deepest
self.
They would swirl about the
earth in a dance of light and love. Soaring higher and dropping into the
caverns of time- to love, caress and embrace the amazement of the desires.
A unification she had only hoped existed had become a reality.
But in haste, or was it
a trace of the mortality that had wrapped it’s fingers around his eyes,
and put him back in a place to simply move on to become once more as the
other mortals. She could never see that clearly. The love suddenly wretched,
slipped and moved away from her. It could have been her own reflection,
her weakness that touch too cold to find the buried secret. That one faulty
spot of insecurity that caused all to slip from her soul.
The night rapped harshly
knocking against the door echoing against the walls of the room. The clock
struck! The first chime of midnight had begun. This life was ending. She
prayed for another to never begin. The pain had become too great, the search
too long. It would never happen that this gift would be given to mankind.
And her heart ached with the burden.
It was done!
The earth beneath her feet,
far below the floor, began to moan, to vibrate. Voices of the ancients
were released and moaned with sorrow , past memories, a wisdom unbestowed.
The second and third chime
rang.
Isabelle threw open the
double french doors inviting the wind inside, elements at her command.
The force of the wind broke through, streaming the gossamer curtains out
like silky tongues. It circled her gently touching her, moving her hair
making it glow in a surreal light. The wind stayed in a circle, as she
commanded, touching and holding her body like a found lover. Giving a purity
to her image.
Taking the chime to the
fourth and fifth.
The fire leapt higher barely
being contained within the boundaries of fireplace walls. She looked over
to it holding out a hand. A small circle within the fire formed like a
brilliant cyclone, and moved from the body of the fire toward her tracing
a molten path upon the granite floor. The wind parted, the fire moved within
the circle now taking the sacred spot next to her body, twirling about
her, the red hair and fire mingling becoming one. The heat of passion ignited,
exploding from her.
Chimes rang into the sixth,
the seventh.
Fiery stars sprinkled about
the circle that had now taken on a solid form. Containing the lady in the
center, the fires of her passions and the purity of raw emotions. Voices
grew louder resounding of the walls of the room. A strange howl of music,
bringing the chorus of the doom of man to a heightened resilience.
The stars in the circle,
took on a blue glow as drops of water formed within each one. A shimmering
cascade of beauty, so strong it would have burned the eyes of the beholder
to gaze upon them. The beauty in the center- a lady of ages, raised her
eyes and hands above her head. Her head tipped back, with blazes of red
tresses of hair spewing an array of light.
The clock chimed on to the
eighth, ninth......
Her voice rang high, holding
a note that harmonized with the sounds around her, yet had never been heard
before you human ears.
The cyclone of brilliance
become heavy, pounding on the ground beneath to open, yielding to the forces
above.
The lady cried powerfully,
"Never again Lord and Lady! Let this be the End. For love this deep cannot
exist. For love this unselfish cannot be seen! Let it be said, let it be
done!"
The ground beneath, heaved,
wretched and writhed. The earth moaned in pain, as if giving birth. The
lady above still stood barely visible within the funnel of natural forces
surrounding her. A small glimmer of bright light was all to be seen, an
outline of her essence.
Chiming ten, eleven........
One huge explosion, the
earth opened, the walls of the house fell outwards. And as nature would
have it, half of the beauty of the swirling cyclone of light, twisted down
deep into the earth, the other twisting making a long thin trail reaching
far into the heavens.
The chime of midnight!
The earth quaked and moaned,
as if weeping. The night fell silent. The earth healed itself and closed
it’s door. To the evening sky one small star was added, which no one would
probably ever recognize. Mankind moved in the river it had cut, less one
rare pebble of knowledge never known, never lost.
The End
Copyright 1998 Kathleen Rounds
