Dawn

Dawn ~ "A work of fiction..."

I laid there watching as she sat with her back to me, the firelight casting dancing shadows along the basement ceiling. It was 3am and this is what she did every night. Well, not every night, just the ones that she let me come over and share her bed.

Lighting cigarette after cigarette, she sat naked and cross legged on the floor in front of the fireplace, letting her hand dangle slightly over her left knee. She just sat there watching the flames, never moving. Sometimes though, it seemed she knew when I was awake and would turn her head slightly toward the bed, but not actually look at me. I’d quickly close my eyes as though I were still asleep, then after a few seconds, I’d slowly open them to see her attention back on the fire, taking another drag off her smoke. Sometimes there were tears running down her cheeks, but no sound.

I always wondered what she was thinking about. She seemed a different person. Someone I didn’t know during the daylight hours. I confess, I didn’t claim to know her that well at all no matter what time of day it was, but whatever secrets she kept hidden, 3:00 in the morning was the gatekeeper. I don’t know why, but I was afraid of her. Not physically, but deeper than that. Like a big, dark nothing that threatens to devour you whole if it finds out you’re spying on it.

In the background, always softly playing, was Annie Lennox’ “Love Song for a Vampire”. As many cigarettes lit and died, she listened to this song. She’d said it reminded her of an old friend. A very old friend. In rare moments it seemed like her breath would catch in her throat and a name would escape her lips. “Markus”.

As time went on, she grew more distant and I saw her less and less. She eventually moved away and found new friends that I had nothing in common with and had no desire to know. After a time she alienated them as well. I think this was her way and probably always had been.

I learned, after several years of not hearing from her that she had died of cancer and I thought it a complete waste. Not just because I still loved her but because I would never know what secrets she had carried around inside. What anger, what pain and what loneliness that drove her slowly and quietly insane.

...Markus. Who was he and what hold did he have on her? Honestly, I think he ultimately caused her death, and whatever sway he held, it crushed her soul…entirely.

The odd thing about this little tale though? ….I have a strange feeling that just maybe I’ll see her again.