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The crowd counts down to the end of 2012. My dead wife holds me and whispers that she loves me.
The crowd counts down to the end of 2012. My dead wife holds me and whispers that she loves me.
Fireworks explode all around London as it slips into 2013.
We stand high above with the crowds at Alexandra Palace looking down from the
north of the city. Before us, the entire city is laid.
The view is amazing, with rolling waves of colour as the
city celebrates the new year. It’s actually difficult to look anywhere that
fireworks aren’t going off. The city of London has become a rolling wave of
colour, like the rain has created a kaleidoscope waterfall spreading ripples of
light.
But I am distracted, as I am focused on holding my wife and
telling her how much I love her. I do not want this moment to ever end. I can
see her, hear her, touch her, and smell her. It has been so long. I kiss her,
and taste sparkling white wine and cigarettes. It is the first time I have kissed her in
months.
“I love you too,” I say.
I kiss her again. It has been only months? Has it really
been so short a time? It felt longer, but when I kiss her for the second time
in months, it feels like she never left. Never died.
I don’t cry. I haven’t cried since she died, and I thought I
would cry seeing her again. But it feels like part of me died with her. Or
maybe it died later, when we cast the spell that nobody thought could be cast. Maybe
that was the cost of it.
I move the umbrella to the side, allowing the rain to pour
down on us both. For now, it feels enough like crying to feel appropriate.
“Oi!” she shouts at me, laughing. “You’re going to get us
both soaked!”
“I don’t care,” I say, laughing back. “I want to feel every
moment of this!”
“Happy new year, Darren.” She says, kissing me again. The
rain trickles down our faces against our mouths. I hold her close to me as we
kiss. Her body feels familiar against mine.
“Happy new year, Nina”, I say.
“Give me the umbrella,” she says. “I need to call Dad.”
I pass it to her, as she tries to call.
“Damn,” she says. “The network’s down.”
“Call him in a bit, then. Look,” I point upwards. Chinese
lanterns float above us, even against the rain.
“They’re beautiful,” she says.
“They’re supposed to carry away your worries and fears,” I
tell her.
“They were originally designed for war,” she says. “They
were for sending messages. Or signalling. Something like that, anyway.”
“And there I was trying to be spiritual,” I say, and she
laughs.
War. There was a word I didn’t want mentioned tonight. Not
yet. No matter. There’s time yet.
“I think 2013 is going to be a good year,” she said. “2012
was okay, but I’ve got a good feeling about this one. This is going to be our
year.”
“I think so too,” I lie. “It’s going to be a good one.”
We walk back to our house, and I savour every moment that I
can. I try not to think about what I know is coming. Her hand feels cold in
mine, and that bothers me. It feels dead.
But before long, there is shelter and warmth, and there are
hot drinks and talking and sitting together, and then there is more kissing and
then there is the bed and we make love.
I have earned this, I remind myself. This time with her. For
what I have done and what is to come.
Tomorrow, I’ll have to pretend everything is normal and go
to work, and pretend I don’t know everything that I know. Soon, I will have to
contact Jack, Maria and the others. But for now, there is just Nina and there
is me.
We finish and she lies in my arms.
And then there is sleep.
And then there are the nightmares. Of course there are. I
was a fool to think that I could have escaped them. I dream of them all. Of
stories and myths and legends.
I wake up before Nina, and I go into the living room and
switch the television on. The newsreaders recount the celebrations of the
previous night before they explain a much odder and more disturbing news story.
At the Tower of London, one of the Beefeaters was found dead in the early hours of the
morning. He poisoned the Ravens and then killed himself.
I did not know this would happen.
And now the tears come, because I am afraid.
I am afraid of what is to come. Of the pain and death and
suffering that is in store for so many in 2013.
It is the year my wife dies.
It is the year of the final war.
It is the year that magic falls.
Liking this. A touch of "Spirited Away" about it, but a bit more monolithic in its ominousness.
ReplyDeleteI was looking up some information about serial writing and found your website, so I decided to begin reading your serial novel. I enjoyed Part 1 - very intriguing and unique. You have a lot of great hooks that make me want to keep reading. On to Part 2...
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