The assistant turned and smiled at her, “The Healer will be right in.”
While Stella waited, she looked at the strange signs and posters in the exam room. They extolled the virtues of ancient Greek and Indian medicine, of homeopathy and herbology. She’d heard about this healer from a friend who’d been “cured” of migraines by her. Dr. Evans sounded very “woo-woo”, but Stella was ready to try anything, so she’d made an appointment.
Dr. Evans knocked on the door and poked her graying head into the room. She walked in and sat down in a chair next to the exam table.“Stella, I’m excited about this new phyto-therapeutic treatment. I obtained extract from a healer in the Greek Islands. He discovered this potent new lichen growing on old temple ruins.” Dr. Evans grew animated.“He gathers the azure blue plant at the full moon, then extracts its essence. He tells me it is very effective for treatment of depression, ulcers and.” she smiled at Stella, “arthritis. No one else in the states is using it yet. Normally, I would have you drink an infusion of the plant, but the injection will be stronger and faster acting. Are you willing to try it? ”
Stella laughed at her desperation. She didn’t believe the strange plant would have any significant effect on her intractable disease. But it couldn’t hurt, and there was the remote chance it would alleviate some of her symptoms. “Yes, I’m willing. Are there any side effects?”
The healer frowned.“Side effects? No, I haven’t heard of any. No one in Greece or France has reported any. I don’t anticipate any problems. You might experience slight itchiness or redness at the injection site.” Dr. Evans put her hand on Stella’s. “Healing is a journey. Are you ready to begin?” Stella nodded and Dr. Evans rolled up Stella’s sleeve, rubbed her arm with alcohol. “Here we go, just a little pinch…”
Stella held her breath as the blue liquid left the tube and entered her arm. It was done. Stella realized Dr. Evans was talking. “Be sure to call if you have any problems.” She helped Stella from the exam table, and to the dressing area. “Don’t forget to stop at the front desk on your way out and make an appointment for next week. See you then.”
Stella stopped the doctor before she could leave, “Could you have my husband come in. I need some help getting dressed.” The doctor nodded and looked with pity at her crippled body.
“Well?” Peter asked expectantly as he opened the door to the exam room.
“Now we wait. The doctor said it would take a day or two to notice any difference. I hope it works, otherwise…I don’t know what I will do. I hate living like this. I hate it.” She grasped her walker and winced in pain.
Peter took her arm. “It will work.” he assured her, though he had little hope.
~*~
The next day Stella woke earlier than usual. She’d slept well. She tentatively wiggled her toes. No tenderness, no aches. The joints were no longer swollen or deformed. She stretched out her arms and fingers; her joints moved smoothly without soreness; she sat up-without pain. Her arthritis had vanished. The strange blue potion worked. She burst into tears. This was the first time in years that she was able to move without some part of her clinching up in pain.
Peter came running. “Stella. What’s wrong?”
She stepped out of bed and amazed Peter.
“Look at you. Look at you…”
Stella jumped up and down and danced around the room in her pajamas, crying and laughing. She ran to Peter and hugged him in joy. It was Peter’s turn to cry as he held her tight against his chest.
“I’m happy for you.” Peter whispered.
Stella sighed, “This has been hard for you, hasn’t it? I’m sorry. You’ve been there for me, through all of the hard times. Thank you.”
Peter kissed her on her cheek and said, “In sickness and in health--I promised and I meant it. I love you.”
Stella leaned into him, breathing in his musky smell. They hadn’t had sex for a long time, over ten months, because of her pain. She moved her hand down his leg. “I can think of a way to celebrate.”
Peters’ eyes widened. “Will we remember how?” he joked.
Stella laughed, “I doubt that will be a problem.” She pushed him onto the bed. “Mr. McRoy, I think you are going to be late for work.”
He held her face in his hands, “Oh God, I missed you so much.” He pushed his hands through the curls of her auburn hair. He traced the fullness of her lips with his fingers, and looked into her large, liquid brown eyes. “You are beautiful,” Peter murmured as he kissed her neck.
They made love, passionately, then again, soft and slow. Afterwards, as they held each other, Stella sighed, “I’m happy--I forgot what it feels like to be happy.”
Peter dressed, and said, “I do need to work today, but let’s go out tonight and celebrate. How about the nice French place you like so well?”
Stella lay back on the pillow, admiring his lithe, thin body, and the way his black hair grayed at the temples. “Wonderful, I’ll make reservations.”
She grabbed his arms and kissed him as he left. “Don’t be late,” she teased.
In high spirits, Stella moved about the house, jumping, stretching, and doing pirouettes. It felt like a miracle. She had her life back. She decided to call the Wellness Center and share the good news.
“Hello, this is Stella McRoy. May I speak with Dr. Evans?” She hummed to herself while she waited.
“Hello, Stella? I hope nothing is wrong?” Dr. Evans worried voice came on the line.
“Dr. Evans? I woke up this morning pain free. I can’t believe it.”
“That is wonderful news. That is just amazing. No side effects?”
“No, none at all, I just want to thank you and the Health Center…” she began, but her voice broke and she couldn’t finish.
“Oh, Stella, please, don’t thank us. We should thank you for allowing us to help you. You are blazing a trail for other patients by being the first person in the states to try the extract.” Dr. Evans wished her well, and said she would see her next week.
Once she hung up, Stella didn’t know what to do with herself. With her disease, it took all day to accomplish the small tasks of daily living, feeding herself, laundry, moving from one room to another. Her routines and paths through the house were set like train tracks. Every task required planning and forethought. Now, she was free from those limitations—free from the walker, free from the pain - what should she do? A walk along the river? A surprise visit to her friend Nadine?
Then Stella clapped her hands. Of course! She would shop for an attractive new dress for their dinner date tonight, pretty shoes and maybe some lingerie.
She giggled to herself as she thought about buying a whole new wardrobe, one without the snaps or elastic that she was forced to wear because of her arthritic fingers. She stood up to get her jacket.
Stella’s head exploded, and the room spun around. She sat down and gripped the arms of the chair. She closed her eyes. The feeling of dizziness subsided and she took a deep breath. Was this a side effect? She would have to tell Dr. Evans about it next week. She opened her eyes.
The vertigo stopped, but her brain couldn’t register what it saw. She blinked and shook her head. No, this couldn’t be right. The world was transformed; nothing looked the same. She looked around at the chairs, the shelves, the floor; they vibrated, shimmered, jumped and danced. Nothing looked solid.
As she held up her hand, she could see all of the cells, the energy and electricity jumping between them. She stared, fascinated. She stood up, and tried to walk, but felt as if she was floating in a world of water. She fell back into the chair. She was inundated with a heady, dark perfume, redolent and tropical. She heard a humming sound, and felt the air become electrically charged.
A sizzling, crackling, globe of lightning appeared before her and out of it a terrible form took shape. A tall, naked woman with disheveled and wild black hair appeared. Her blue skin shone like a polished stone, but her eyes were red, her face contorted.
The demon/goddes
s/woman wore a garland of human skulls draped from her neck, and large serpents writhed around her arms. She wielded a large battle sword over her head. She threw back her head and howled, as she brandished the sword. Stella fell to the floor in terror, shaking and trembling.
A discordant and powerful voice echoed in Stella’s head. “I am Eris. Goddess of Chaos. Goddess of War. Enemy of Order. I am Chaos.”
Tears ran down Stella’s cheeks, “I don’t understand.”
“Chaos is Truth.” Eris touched Stella’s shoulder with her sword, and blood welled up. As Stella gazed at the red rivulets running down her arm, she saw reflected there the forceful ways of Discordia, dark visions of war, battlefields of warriors caught up in desperate struggles as Eris, dressed in her torn and bloody mantle, danced through and around them, whipping them into murderous frenzy, wielding her own battle stained sword.
Stella beheld stealthy murders by poison, rash death by hanging, by drowning, by genocide, with Eris as the instigator. Stella witnessed orgies of unrestrained lust, twisted magic and occult mysteries. The darkness between the stars, the sucking black holes of space were her domain, trails of Eris’s destruction, chaos, and ruin echoed down through the ages, across space and time.
Stella didn’t know how long her vision lasted, but when she came to she was still sitting in her living room, feeling spent, but charged with a peculiar energy. Everything had changed, she saw the world differently now, so many doors had opened. She decided not to tell Peter about the vision just yet.
~*~
When Peter returned from work, he was humming to himself as he opened the door. He looked forward to their dinner out. He planned to surprise Stella and carried an expensive bottle of Dom Pérignon, her favorite Champagne. Stella walked out from the bedroom and Peter dropped the bottle. The champagne pooled and foamed around his feet.
Stella was dressed in black leather from head to toe. She had a black leather bustier, ornamented with silver rings and a zipper up the front. Her skintight leather pants also had a silver zipper that was halfway undone. She wore black stiletto heels, fingerless gloves and carried a small fetish whip.
“Stella, my God! What ..?”
Stella rolled the whip along her arm. The effect on him was electric.
“Like it? It’s a little surprise for you.” She purred.
“Surprise doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Peter stammered.
“Take off your clothes.” Stella pointed at him with the whip. “Now.”
Peter astonished himself by obeying. He fumbled with his shirt buttons-his hands were trembling. He stepped out of his clothes and left them in a pile on the floor. He stumbled across the room to her in a daze.
“Kneel.” Stella commanded and he did.
Peter put his hands on her hips, the smooth leather felt lovely and erotic. He inhaled the smell of her, cupped her buttocks in his hands and closed his eyes. This was extraordinary. He started to tug at the zipper.
Stella flicked him playfully with the whip. “Not yet.” She led him to the bedroom. Bewildered, Peter allowed her to bind him, and tease him until he wanted to scream. He was more aroused than he had ever been. His final release astonished him. It felt so good, he was almost afraid.
“Stella, that was unbelievable. I don’t know what to say.”
Stella flicked him teasingly with the whip. “We still have dinner reservations, but I changed the venue. It’s another surprise. The taxi will be here in half an hour.” She caressed him and rolled out of bed.
“I don’t know how many surprises like this I can take.” Peter groaned.
Stella scoffed, “Peter, don’t be so conventional. Let’s break out of our orderly little lives and live a little.”
Peter looked at Stella again; this wild, strange behavior was out of character for Stella, but oh, so delightful and stimulating. “What’s got into you, Stella?”
“I have a second chance at life and I don’t want to waste it this time.” she announced.
They showered and Stella donned her new silk sheath, a sexy, low cut and short dress that clung to her curves. Peter whistled, “Are you sure you want to go out in that?” He was half serious. He wasn’t used to seeing her flaunt her sexuality. He’d always found her attractive, she had full breasts, a thin body, and a lively personality. But now his inordinate desire for her surprised him--he was hard again, and it embarrassed him.
Stella smiled and took his arm. “Of course I do. Let’s go dear, or we’ll be late.”
They stepped into the taxi and Stella whispered into the driver’s ear. Peter noticed how the cabbie stared at Stella’s breasts. It made him uncomfortable, but he couldn’t blame the guy. She looked incredible in that outfit.
The taxi pulled up to Erosine, a glitzy nightclub and dinner bar downtown. Peter wondered why Stella chose this place. She usually hated crowded and noisy scenes. The waiter led them to a table on the mezzanine overlooking the dance floor. Several Disco balls reflected silver light over the raised dance cages, where women dressed in nothing but silver g-strings danced suggestively. Couples gyrated to loud hip-hop music on the floor below.
“Isn’t this grand. Peter?” Stella leaned back in the upholstered chair, her eyes reflecting the disco lights.
Peter wasn’t sure, but was willing to suspend judgment for a night. He ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon, smiling as the thought of the broken bottle he’d cleaned up before they left.
When the waiter presented the bottle, Stella clapped her hands, leaned forward and kissed Peter, pushing her tongue deep into his mouth. He was immediately aroused. He raised his glass “To the sexiest and most beautiful woman in the world…. And to Dr. Evans.” They drank.
Stella lifted her glass, and shouted, “To chaos” and downed her champagne in one large gulp. Then she jumped up onto her chair and started dancing. She lifted her arms in the air and did a bump and grind, laughing.
Alarm bells went off in Peter’s head. Before this night, Stella would have been humiliated if anyone at her table acted like this. Was she ecstatic to be free of the pain, and simply letting loose? That had to be it. She was given a whole new life overnight. Surely, she would probably get back to “normal” in a few days. The excitement of being cured had gone to her head.
“Stella, they don’t let people dance on the chairs, its dangerous,” he said. He stood up and took her hand. She jumped down from the chair.
“Let’s dance, you old fogey” Stella dragged Peter onto the dance floor. They were swept into the writhing crowd.
~*~
When Stella went for her one-week follow-up, Dr. Evans asked her about side effects. She opened her mouth to tell her about the vision, but changed her mind. “I feel great. I’ve never felt more alive in my life.”
Every day, she felt more alive, fabulous, sinuous and sexy. She left her old routines behind. She started working out at the gym. She and Peter enjoyed a renewed sex life and took long walks along the river. She even allowed herself to tinker with the piano again. Once she thought she heard Eris in the other room, singing her discordant songs, but when she looked, there was nothing.
~*~
Stella woke with a start from a terrifying dream. She was soaked in sweat and shaking. In the dream, she had raced madly through the nightclub, wielding a razor sharp sword, slicing off hands, arms, ears, beheading anyone within her reach, creating a wide swath of gore and destruction. She was covered in blood; it matted her hair and slicked her dress to her body. She’d backed Peter up against a wall and watched his face as she plunged the sword deep into his heaving chest. Blood spurted, hot and sticky, and covered them both. She licked blood from her lips, threw back her head and howled in animal pleasure. Throughout the dream, she had reveled in the death, the gore, in Peter’s destruction.
What did it mean? She wanted to wake Peter and tell him about the visions, about the dreams. But something stopped her, a part of her warned her to keep the secret. That part of her delighted in the intoxicating darknes
s. That part of her thrilled to the strangeness of it all. Next to her, Peter slept quietly. She ran her finger over his chest and shuddered.
~*~
But Stella couldn’t live with the secrecy, the fear. She’d started blacking out and when she came to, she didn’t know where she’d been or what she’d done. Terrified of Eris’s control of her, her dark dreams, and the growing feeling of oppression, she was also afraid of what Peter would think. She couldn’t bear the burden by herself anymore, and decided to open up to Peter at any cost.
They sat at breakfast, drinking coffee. Stella fiddled with her cup, took a deep breath and began “Peter, I ….” but her throat closed up and no words came out. She tried again and again, but every time she opened her mouth to speak, she gagged on the words. She shook her head and tears dropped into her coffee.
Peter, alarmed, took her hand. “Stella, what’s wrong? Is the pain back?”
Stella waved him away. Her voice returned when she abandoned her plan to discuss Eris. “I’m okay. Just tired, I think.” As long as she didn’t talk about her visions and dreams, she could speak, but when she attempted to reveal anything about Eris, her voice cut off, her silence enforced. Peter left for work and Stella tried to distract herself by reading, but fell asleep on the couch.
When she woke, she stretched and yawned. She felt different--dangerous, perilous. A frisson of excitement and fear tingled her spine and made her shiver. Stella stood by the couch, contemplating the order around her, the brown leather couch, the gold upholstered chair, the linen curtains, the silver framed photographs, all of the trappings of her simple life. The tidiness annoyed her. What would it feel like to create complete and utter chaos like Eris?
Anthology of Ichor III: Gears of Damnation Page 3