verity || d.m.

04 - tonics and draughts for a good night's rest

10 SEPTEMBER, 2001

—

the other girl i become in my dreams
often finds herself flirting with death

- excerpt from poem #39, "november nightmares," in my poetry book aftertaste

—

A symphony of childish laughter fills Anastasiya's ears as she makes her way down the archaic, paved road.

Tiny, quaint shops line along either side, the mystical air inviting her into each one. A cool breeze passes through her chest, giving her a sudden craving for a hot cup of coffee. She breathes in the crisp scent of a bakery, which she figures should be able to satisfy her.

The allure of buttered croissants and pain au chocolat fresh from the oven wafts out of the shop and into the wind, swirling around Anastasiya in a tantalizing dance. She's intoxicated by the smell, feeling woozy from the daze it's induced. She can almost see the warm golden brown in the gust that flies in circles around.

Next to her, two girls dance around a fountain in the center of the town square, swinging their linked arms. The younger girl bites harshly into the milk chocolate bar that Anastasiya presumes the older girl paid for and so happens to match both of their long, flowing hair. The older girl, who is several inches taller than Anastasiya, sports a dark chocolate bar that she offers her, but she kindly declines.

The younger girl starts to pull away and point them in the direction of a bookstore. The older girl says something disapproving, although her words sound like a jumble of a language Anastasiya cannot understand. Still, she is able to somehow decipher what she means.

She stares at both of them a while longer, admiring the obvious bond between the two. They're much too close in age to have a mother-daughter relationship, but the older girl is nearly as nurturing as if she raised the younger girl herself. In the same way, the younger girl gazes upon her with blissful admiration, wanting to continue her fun yet never feeling compelled to disrespect what the older girl asks of her.

They continue their pattern of skipping and tugging, while Anastasiya walks behind them and wishes for a split second that she, too, had a sister, or maybe a brother, but at least somebody to keep her company. How lucky they were to have someone who would always be there, through every stage of existence, as life begins and ends.

In a split second, everything around her begins to shake as dark, hooded figures appear out of the air that has suddenly been covered with a murky filter. At first she counts five, and then twelve, but as she backs away, there seem to be around thirty.

As she turns around, she notices both girls are missing. She's frozen in her steps, unable to comprehend what's happening. Her thoughts race and settle deep inside the creases of her brain. Who are these cloaked men? Where did the girls go? What is she supposed to do? The first question is answered as a stormy cloud breaks through the previously clear sky, forming into an obscure trail of darkened smoke.

The third answer becomes irrelevant when she feels a tugging on her arm. Anastasiya assumes it's the older girl she was walking with, but when she turns to look, the person pulling her along is bald. There's no time for Anastasiya to ask, and even if there was, she does not have the words. It's like every center for logic in her body has shut down, leaving her to fend for herself. It's either keep following the mysterious man, or get caught by the hooded figures. Only Merlin knows what they'd do to her then. She can't tell if she's in a total state of shock, where she has no sense of urgency left in even her fingertips, or if she's in a total state of panic, where she is completely frozen over with fear. Whatever it is, an unbearable desire for life rages through her blood and bones.