She is a contrast in emotions. In life choices. Opposites that pull at Eve’s brain, that sometimes pull her apart. One half of her brain fighting fiercely to live. To achieve. To win. The other half of her brain pulling her into a dark frozen forest. Pulling her under. Into an eternal sleep. One thousand dark shadows calling her at night when everyone and everything is quiet.
Join us. Lie down. Let us cover you with snow. Let us absorb your soul. Let us take you home. The whispers were a slow and steady hum. They kept singing the song – a chant of finality and doom. The persistent whispers hitchhiked with snowflakes and found their way to Eve. The one wrapped in warm layers. The one with a slow and steady heartbeat. The one longing for peace.
Voices drifting from snowflakes, invite Eve to join their ride. Dressed in a gorgeous black backless dress and sexy black heels, she follows the voices up the steps covered in snow – toward one last dinner party before the voices swallow her whole. One last opportunity to dazzle and be known. Snowflakes on her breath, her words will spill and intoxicate all who have the pleasure of falling under her spell. Partygoers will laugh and delight in her charm and magnetism, bringing some to the edge of orgasm. They will drink in rapture and intoxication, yet something will want to pull them away – survival instincts, telling them if they stay, they may not see the light of a new day. Walk away they must, while mumbling and glancing down at their slow-moving polished shoes. “I have never met anyone like her,” they will say. Sweet and sensational, she is seduction and mystery. Onto the damp grass they will step, looking confused and scratching their heads.
She will not need a purse where she is going. A purse implies attachments – keys, an ID, a credit card, or cash. She will not need any of these things, except lipstick, perhaps. Wearing lipstick, the color of blood dripping from her parted lips, she will breathe in one more scent of preserved jasmine mingled with enchantment, before slipping out the back door and walking toward nothingness. She will lie down on the angelic white, let it wrap her in its seduction and on this worldly plane she will forever close her eyes. There will be nothing sensational about the night, except it will be a night no one will ever forget. Why this is so, no one will be able to say, for sure. They will quickly forget the young woman robed in the darkest night, with lips the color of fresh kill from the wild, and yet, the memory of her will haunt them for the rest of their lives.
This is how Eve would like to spend her last evening living – mingling with others, who are easily amused, and with her presence, easily confused.
A little early in the year for a haunting story, but with the heat of August blazing the southwest it is the perfect time to dream of snow. Any time is the right time to create a complex character and weave a work of fiction around her. Made more intriguing with a sprinkling of fabulism. ✨
If you visited my site over the last week, you know that my blog is heading into its fourth year. I am excited about my fourth chapter. I am grateful for my readers and fellow creatives who continue to support and inspire me. Thank you for visiting and listening. Be well. 💗 Michele
Featured photo by T.Den Team
© 2022 Michele Lee Sefton