crystals had been threaded through her curls so that she sparkled like freshly exhaled frost.
Kaspian couldn’t be sure that she wasn’t truly sleeping. Her eyes were closed and her arm fell languorously to her side so that it rested on the head of a pale canine that looked suspiciously like a wolf. Something primitive and raw ran through Kaspian’s instincts. The creature lay with its heavy head between its paws, giving a false impression of being at rest, but Kaspian knew it wasn’t. It was waiting. Protecting.
The unpleasant taste of blood filled Kaspian’s mouth. Until this point he had failed to notice he’d been chewing the flesh of his finger, a habit he’d had since boyhood, and which he thought he had left behind. He willed his hand onto his knee, but the nervous tension displaced and he found his hand was barely able to hold his tapping leg.
From somewhere in the room , Beethoven’s Für Elise played. Slowly, Alicia rose to stand en pointe on her ribbon-bound feet. The current of music swept her away and she dance d . She was accomplished ; her body moved like silk. But as she danced, she grew more and more ghost-like. R epeatedly she moved adagi o, reaching out for a lost, imagined love. T he madness of her grief grew, and it was as if she were in danger of being caught in a never- endi ng cycle of fouette en tournant. As she span, the wolf began to howl and snow began to fall. Everything about it was so impossibly sad that Kaspian thought he might start to scream and never stop.
All at once Alicia stopped turning and the wolf fell silent. There was a terrible moment of stillness ; the kind that is charged with the anticipation of a coming horror.
Amongst all the pure, desolate white, a crimson rose began to bloom over the space of Alicia’s heart. As the colour seeped through the delicate fabric of her dress, she looked down on it with an almost childlike curiosity. The blood transferred from the fabric to her hand and she was held captive by the sight of it. It reminded Kaspian of a scene he’d once seen in the play, Macbeth . Slowly, very slowly, she raised her eyes to look out on the audience.
They met with Kaspian’s.
Her eyes were deep wells of sorrow, and in that moment he felt all the pain and joy of her heart in one vital rush. Her eyes fluttered. The spell between them broke and she fell onto the velvet chaise. She clutched her left hand to her breast and the right hand trailed the floor with the weight of a large, fierce looking icicle; its tip was stained with blood.
T he window misted again and her name , “Alicia,” spread out across the glass to triumphant applause. The heavy red velvet curtains swished closed. All around him the men w ere on their feet calling out, “ Bravo! Bravo, Alicia!”
Kaspian sat, his breath shuddering in his lungs, his hands trembling. “Is she dead? Is she really dead?” he asked Hugh, looking at him out the corner of his eye.
Hugh used no words to reply, he just offered Kaspian a smile that told him to believe whatever he wanted to believe. Kaspian had never felt so entirely alive. It was a feeling he would have given his whole fortune for.
Once all the men had return to their seats , the fellow sat nearest to the handle pulled it with a good-humoured shout of, ‘Geronimo!’ and sent the audience on a wild, spinning journey. They came to an abrupt halt in front of the stage directly opposite Alicia’s.
Hugh turned to Kaspian, who was still lost in a strange new place somewhere between desire and pain. A smile crept across his face as he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a silver hipflask.
“Medicinal purposes,” he whispered handing the flask to Kaspian. “I know exactly how you’re feeling. Enjoy it – you’ll never feel it in quite the same way again.”
Kaspian raised the flask to his lips, smelt the warm spices of brandy and filled his mouth with the burning fire.
With the parting of the heavy
Kaspian couldn’t be sure that she wasn’t truly sleeping. Her eyes were closed and her arm fell languorously to her side so that it rested on the head of a pale canine that looked suspiciously like a wolf. Something primitive and raw ran through Kaspian’s instincts. The creature lay with its heavy head between its paws, giving a false impression of being at rest, but Kaspian knew it wasn’t. It was waiting. Protecting.
The unpleasant taste of blood filled Kaspian’s mouth. Until this point he had failed to notice he’d been chewing the flesh of his finger, a habit he’d had since boyhood, and which he thought he had left behind. He willed his hand onto his knee, but the nervous tension displaced and he found his hand was barely able to hold his tapping leg.
From somewhere in the room , Beethoven’s Für Elise played. Slowly, Alicia rose to stand en pointe on her ribbon-bound feet. The current of music swept her away and she dance d . She was accomplished ; her body moved like silk. But as she danced, she grew more and more ghost-like. R epeatedly she moved adagi o, reaching out for a lost, imagined love. T he madness of her grief grew, and it was as if she were in danger of being caught in a never- endi ng cycle of fouette en tournant. As she span, the wolf began to howl and snow began to fall. Everything about it was so impossibly sad that Kaspian thought he might start to scream and never stop.
All at once Alicia stopped turning and the wolf fell silent. There was a terrible moment of stillness ; the kind that is charged with the anticipation of a coming horror.
Amongst all the pure, desolate white, a crimson rose began to bloom over the space of Alicia’s heart. As the colour seeped through the delicate fabric of her dress, she looked down on it with an almost childlike curiosity. The blood transferred from the fabric to her hand and she was held captive by the sight of it. It reminded Kaspian of a scene he’d once seen in the play, Macbeth . Slowly, very slowly, she raised her eyes to look out on the audience.
They met with Kaspian’s.
Her eyes were deep wells of sorrow, and in that moment he felt all the pain and joy of her heart in one vital rush. Her eyes fluttered. The spell between them broke and she fell onto the velvet chaise. She clutched her left hand to her breast and the right hand trailed the floor with the weight of a large, fierce looking icicle; its tip was stained with blood.
T he window misted again and her name , “Alicia,” spread out across the glass to triumphant applause. The heavy red velvet curtains swished closed. All around him the men w ere on their feet calling out, “ Bravo! Bravo, Alicia!”
Kaspian sat, his breath shuddering in his lungs, his hands trembling. “Is she dead? Is she really dead?” he asked Hugh, looking at him out the corner of his eye.
Hugh used no words to reply, he just offered Kaspian a smile that told him to believe whatever he wanted to believe. Kaspian had never felt so entirely alive. It was a feeling he would have given his whole fortune for.
Once all the men had return to their seats , the fellow sat nearest to the handle pulled it with a good-humoured shout of, ‘Geronimo!’ and sent the audience on a wild, spinning journey. They came to an abrupt halt in front of the stage directly opposite Alicia’s.
Hugh turned to Kaspian, who was still lost in a strange new place somewhere between desire and pain. A smile crept across his face as he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a silver hipflask.
“Medicinal purposes,” he whispered handing the flask to Kaspian. “I know exactly how you’re feeling. Enjoy it – you’ll never feel it in quite the same way again.”
Kaspian raised the flask to his lips, smelt the warm spices of brandy and filled his mouth with the burning fire.
With the parting of the heavy
Similar Books
