Claudia D. Christian

Estimated reading time: 3 – 4 minutes

Reality murdered lofty notions of impossibility. Desiccated bits of flesh littered the ground. Rust colored stains pitted the floor in a crooked circle. Toes, once perfect with petite proportions, allowed bone to peek from between bloated flesh. Green skin pocked the darker fabric in random markings from hem to neck.

A rope, thick, ugly, and ominous, hung from the rafter. A mop of beautiful hair anchored it. The urge to lift up the head possessed Narcissus. He obeyed with shuffling feet and violent shaking. He reached out, praying and swearing, hoping for a reprieve.

Lisette, please, please don’t be here. Please let this be someone else. I don’t care who. Just don’t be you.

His hand touched the tangled curls and lifted carefully. The hair remained in place, solid and familiar. It could’ve been any other time he had done this in throes of passion or fits of pique. The only unnerving difference was he had never been able to meet her eye-to-eye while standing. Now that he could he wished for anything else.

Narcissus studied the swollen face, bulging eyes, and blackened tongue. He searched for the proof of a stranger. He couldn’t possibly find the exquisite Lisette in this disgusting mass of humanity.

And yet her face stared back at him in condemnation.

Copious tears welled up. They became thousands. Narcissus dropped the doll, HER doll, and wrapped his arms about the decayed copy of his beloved. The smell, the horrible, terrible smell, fought to push him away. Narcissus burrowed his face in her hair, helplessly seeking some hint of her perfumed scent. Something moved beneath his hand. Narcissus looked up with crazed hope.

Squeaks rose in pitch as he closed his fist. A warm body wiggled in frenzy. Narcissus brought it forward. His face twisted in a sickened snarl. He flung the rat against the far wall. It exploded from the inhumane force.

Narcissus heard the rhythmic pounding of many feet coming closer. He wondered with detached curiosity of how they knew where to find him. It was only when Lane touched him on the arm did Narcissus hear his agonized screams.

He bowed beneath the pressure of his grief. He roared incoherent words of love. The footmen guided him away. Narcissus looked over his shoulder and bellowed for them not to leave her. He made them promise to bring her down and let her lay in his bed, the bed she always crept into especially when scared or lonely.

The servants fluttered with imperfect purpose. They promised him everything and nothing.

Once again he forgot the doll.

“Chessie…Sophie…I can’t do it.”

“Of course you can.” She slinked pass his shoulder. Sophie leaned forward to rest her lips against his ear. The skin burned with frost. “I saw you, Narcissus.”

“Saw me doing what?”

“I saw what you did to me when you first saw me again.”

“When, Sophie?”

“When I was Lisette.” She maneuvered in front of him. “You hugged me, rotted that I was. You squeezed me and cried. Do you know what I felt? Nothing. I felt absolutely nothing for you. I hung there for days and I waited. I waited for you to find me.”

“Then you know how crazed I became.”

“I know.”

Narcissus ruffled her ephemeral hair. It felt nothing like the hair in his dreams.