The Lovers of Life

CHAPTER IV - BLACK FOG

"In labyrinths of coral caves
The echo of a distant time
Comes willowing across the sand"

Echoes – Echoes: The Best of Pink Floyd - Pink Floyd

This is a memory. I only remember hearing. When I force myself to see, all that there is to be seen is black fog.

* * * * *

"Like an angel coming down from Heaven he came to me."

"Anastasia, my darling, don't talk such nonsense."

"But it is the truth, mama, I swear it is!"

A sigh. It was one of these sighs let out by an indulgent parent, noticing that they have to listen to the fruit of their children's excessive imagination. The noise of something being placed on a wooden surface.

"I do believe he is my guardian angel."

The strain of rusted springs in a mattress. A muffled laugh from the mother. High heels on the wooden floor and the irritating yell of the rusted springs in the mattress sagging under the weight of the mother and the child it must now reluctantly accommodate. Bracelets knocking one another on a forearm, as though the mother raised her arm to stroke her daughter's hair.

"And was he beautiful, your angel?"

"Very!" said the girl indignantly – how could her doubt it?

"Do you want to tell me more about him?"

"Sure." The little girl had now taken an annoyed tone, as if she had many things better to do than telling her mother about her angel. But her mother knew that her daughter had wanted the conversation to get to that point since the beginning.

"Last night, after the feast of the summer solstice, my anniversary, I did not close my window. The night was tender and I liked the sight of the moon. But I couldn't find sleep. Then, I knew I must close the window. I got up and closed it. Then, darkness filled the room." There was a short pause in the girl's speech. "I wasn't scared," said the girl proudly, "I find the dark reassuring, actually. I'm not like Elsie: I am not scared of the dark," she said as if she had to convince her mother she was telling the truth.

"Go on. Is that when your angel came to you?"

"He was already there, leaning against the wall. But I wasn't scared for there was something soothing about his presence. He talked to me and he stared at me. His eyes were purple, mama, purple! Upon my request, he gave me his name: Lusaka."

"Where was Elsie?" asked the mother.

"In our bedroom. I went up to the attic because we'd had a row."

"Ah, Anastasia, on your birthday?"

"For the doll papa gave me. Both of us wanted it and we didn't want the wooden horse."

"But Ana..."

"It is a matter of no importance," and she meant it, "it was my anniversary before it was hers. I gave her the doll and came up here to the attic when she had fallen asleep."

"Did you come up to mull over nasty thoughts?"

"No. I came to have a room of my own; seeing that I couldn't have a doll."

"All right, I'll talk to your father. We can probably transform a spare room into a bedroom for Elsie," said the mother who believed she had grasped the true meaning of her daughter's tale.

"May I tell my story? So, Lusaka and I, we were here. He was kneeling before me, as if he was a great lord demanding my hand in marriage. I am important to Lusaka. I know I am. Then he pulled a knife out and slit my wrist. Look."