“Seal the entrance! Hurry! Before she has a chance to escape.” His voice was strong and full of conviction. He was no longer her father but a leader of the tribe trying to protect all that he knew. This Priestess Selinia had broken every sacred rule and law today bringing further vengeance and destruction on the Parisiji. The Romans weren’t enough. Now they had to appease the gods and he hoped that the sacrifice of his own daughter within the cavern of the sacred waters would do it. Their sole function as clergy was to protect the waters and protect anyone who would dream of drinking the liquid for immortal life and unlimited power. He knew that such a thing would only bring madness. Man could not handle immortality.
“We were born to die.” He whispered softly as his hand was pressed against the stone wall in a final farewell to Selinia. He could not hear her screams or feel her pound her bleeding fists against the seal but he could feel her anger. It was pouring out of the cavern like a cloud of death. He motioned for everyone to get out. Something was truly happening now as he felt the cavern floor begin to tremble. “Get out!” He pushed the young people forward. “Get out now!! Hurry! Rocks and dust began to fall from the ceiling. A large stone hit him on the shoulder and he cried out in pain. He stumbled for a moment and he heard Selinia’s voice as clear as anything above all the chaos and the screaming. It was in his head. He could feel her presence behind him like a wave of malice.
“Father! How dare you betray your own daughter?” Her voice was smug. It was possible that she was now a powerful demi-god and he would be hopeless against any such force. He stayed on his knees in a state of surrender. It made sense that the gods would want him as well for a sacrifice. The father of the monster had to be forfeited too. He only hoped that it was enough.
“Selinia! We are doomed together but our people will prevail! I did it for the clan! I know you understand that.” He shouted into the cave now gone black. He was alone with her separated by a stone seal that he prayed would hold against her. The stone was sacred and said to be thrown down from the heavens to guide the way to the pool of Locium to provide eternal refreshments for the gods. That was long before there were people. Long before when the trees still sang and the rocks still danced. He hoped that the stone had enough power to hold whatever it was his daughter was becoming.
“I understand one thing father. You will die and I will not.” A burning heat raced through his head and suddenly he could see nothing at all and his hearing collapsed into one loud buzzing din that was louder than anything he had ever heard. The pain was excruciating and he reached up to his eyes to feel wet liquid pouring forth. His life was over and he was prepared. He died trying to save his people not from the invading army but from his only child, the High Priestess of Locium. He was no longer conscious when the ceiling collapsed upon his frail body. He was finally free.
Inside the cavern Selinia felt her father die. It gave her great pleasure. It was delicious and satisfying to the person she was rapidly becoming. She sighed and turned her back on the seal. It was amazing. She could see everything so clearly in the dark! Each little crevice and nook and protrusion from the rock walls around her suddenly became apparent and she realized that she missed it all the first time. She could see them now. All the souls. They were natural formations without a doubt but as she looked all around the room she could see their faces. Thousands of them all staring at the pool in longing. It was so obvious! This was a temple. This was her temple and she knew now that she was in no hurry to leave. She looked at the pool and now the water seemed to be glowing with a creamy white blue light and each drop that formed on the nipple of the stalactite was vibrating with power. She watched the droplets fall. It was making her thirsty again and she walked gracefully to the pool this time; no crawling around in the dark like before. She drank and drank and drank and began slowly to forget. She even forgot her traitorous father and all of his intrigues against her. She forgot about the Roman army and the thieves who stole away with the precious liquid. Soon, she could no longer remember even her name. All she knew was that she loved the water and that the water was here. She had finally come home after a lifetime of yearning. The darkness embraced her and for that she was glad and she knew she would be safe here, away from the light , away from the noise and safe in the home of the gods. Nothing could harm her and she was a child in the womb again. She would bide her time and rest for suddenly she was very sleepy. Nothing could keep her awake. Forgetfulness covered her like a blanket and she allowed herself to forget. There would be time later to remember everything. She would remember everything when the time was right. How the thieves came on horseback and stole the water, how her own father had buried her alive and how she herself had drank from the waters of Locium and became a Goddess.
SASHA
Sasha tried to focus on the book she was reading. She sat up a little more in bed and adjusted the reading lamp yet again. The story just could not hold her interest. It was some love story that was based in the past around the time of the French Revolution. It was her favorite time period in history and she spent more than a fair amount of time on the life of Marie Antoinette and her contemporaries. This story just sounded like the author did not do enough research and Sasha hated when she was unable to suspend her disbelief and lose herself in a good book. Maybe she had done too much research and was now a snob on the subject and could easily recognize a flaw that the average reader would not. Maybe she was just too tired to really put her mind to it so she finally threw the paperback to the floor and glanced around her room. She still could not believe that she had her own apartment in Paris. The surreal feeling did not go away even after four months. Every time she woke up in the City of Lights she felt as if she were in a movie or a novel. There was no way that this was her life! She did not know if she would ever take it for granted that she was finally in the city of her dreams. Of course, many little girls dream of Paris, but Sasha had been obsessed from a very early age. It was all she ever thought about and every movie that took place in Paris was mandatory for Sasha to see. Her mother had long become accustomed to her daughter’s obsession and after a time began to encourage it. Why shouldn’t her daughter reach for the lofty dreams that had always been a part of her psyche? Sasha’s mother had always done the right thing; the sensible thing and she had never had any regrets or unfulfilled desires in life. Grace was a very simple woman in the truest sense of the word. Her life could be summed up in one word that meant more to her than anything else. This word was family. Grace grew up in a large and loud Irish American family and from the beginning was ‘ Mama’s Little Helper. She loved caring for her brothers and washing the dishes and scrubbing the floors and the walls. It was only in the caring of others that Grace ever felt any sense of pleasure or satisfaction. The idea of an idle hour alone shopping somewhere filled her with terror. She was much happier making dinner and being sure that her husband and daughter had all of their daily needs met than any other activity could do for her. She knew that her friends would find her shocking in her old fashioned sensibilities, but she never spoke of such things. She was so uncomplicated that she never even really discussed her life. She just lived it. Everything had been arranged for her from the time she was little and she never had enough guts or ambition to stray from the path that lay so neatly before her. Slowly, as her only child began to grow she began to imagine a life she had never led. She started daydreaming that her daughter would live the amazing life that she never wanted. It was far too late for Grace ever to change but Sasha had a chance. Sasha could escape the dreary Midwestern way of life and wring something more from her time here on earth. It wasn’t as if she had to push her at all. Sasha made it very clear from the time she was six that she was going to move to Paris one day and study art. Her mother began to live vicariously through her daughter and every triumph of her little girl became a triumph of her own and every disappointment pierced through her heart as if it were happening to her. This was the way of all mothers. What happened to their children, happened t
o them. If Sasha could get away then Grace would finally have soared to the heights she never even imagined existed.
Now that all of Sasha’s dreams had come to fruition the only tragedy was that Grace was not alive to see those dreams awaken. It was the one bitter taste in Sasha’s mouth that kept Paris from being perfect. While walking through the neighborhoods of the Left Bank or strolling languidly under the Eiffel Tower, Sasha painfully knew she could never share any of this with her mother. Grace had slipped away quietly one night when no one was paying attention. She took a fatal combination of sleeping pills and White Russians. It was all so senseless and ridiculous. No one ever knew if she had wanted to end her life or was just trying to numb her emotions. No one really knew anything about Grace at all, not even her husband or her daughter who saw her every day. She lived very quietly and revealed very little of herself and she had died just as quietly while everyone was at home. No one had even noticed that she was gone until the little household routines began to go undone. First it was the lack of the smell of coffee that alerted the father and daughter that something was wrong. Grace’s life was an exercise in routine. The lack of routine created an enormous vacuum in the house which let Sasha and her father know that something was terribly wrong. The emptiness is what alerted them that something was amiss. The quietness itself told them that Grace was missing. Grace who was always humming during her daily tasks and was always busy with one project or another had simply vanished. One moment she was there and the next she was gone. Grace did not live to see the day that her daughter boarded a plane to leave the guilty vacuum behind, dressed in a red travel suit worthy of any Parisian native. Grace was not there to see the victory and the victory had been filled with sadness because Grace couldn’t help Sasha pack her bags and make her eggs with lemon cream sauce just the way she liked them. She could not fuss and bother with her daughter’s hair and clothing and offer solid motherly advice laced with superstitions that had been passed on to her from her own Mum. She could not hug her baby with tear filled eyes and make her promise to call the very moment she landed, no matter what time and to write at the very least once a week, and a real letter not this email nonsense. Grace had slipped away in the middle of the night leaving a monster of silence behind her, for she never got to beam with pride at how far her little girl had gone in this world.
Sasha knew just how proud her mother would have been. She alone in all the world would understand what this victory meant. All the times that Sasha had bragged to the other girls in her class that someday she would live in Paris and wear designer clothes, not the handmade costumes from her mother’s sewing machine meant nothing now. Grace would have known the satisfaction that Sasha felt whenever she thought of those schoolgirls teasing her over her poverty or mocking her dreams. Many times Sasha believed that half of her success was really just revenge hidden underneath layer after layer of pride. All this belonged to a past that no longer had anything to do with her. She was free. She was free of life in the Midwest filled with shopping malls and blue jeans and big hair. She was free of her father who stared at her accusingly day after day sniffing around the corners of the house like a dog who had lost its master. She was finally free of the large ugly houses all of the same color that were spreading across America like a bad rash. She laughed to herself as she thought how these large ugly monstrous vulgarities in brown, beige, or grey were now the accepted norm. What happened to beauty? Where did it go? Sasha was convinced that if there were any beauty left in this modern, dirty, ugly crowded world, it would be found in the streets of Paris. She hated Ohio her entire life and now she was freed of it forever with no reason ever to return. She never would go back again because the one person that could have made her come home again was gone now forever and so by dying, Grace had given her daughter the opportunity to live in the world of her dreams. This freedom certainly carried a heavy price and the price was daily servings of guilt and regret that never went away. Sasha paid the price willingly and with a great deal of humility, and every Sunday she went to Notre Dame and lit a candle for Grace, smiling every time knowing how much this one simple act would have pleased her mother. She would usually stay for a while and stare at the grandness of the place. Sometimes she would just wander along with the tourists and float along aimlessly with the stream of humanity. She never missed a visit to Our Lady. It had become a tradition born out of this new life. The past was gone and Sasha had an enormous talent for living in the present. All her life she had worked without cease toward the future and now that the future was here she did not want to miss one moment of it. She was happy now. She had gotten herself to Paris. She had found a job and an apartment. The hardest things were behind her now. She was truly just beginning to learn how to live after spending her life chasing a dream. The dream was now reality and had its own challenges and pitfalls she had never even considered. She met them all with a strong will and a smile. She had a “just dare me” approach to every obstacle that came her way which really came from being raised in the heart of America and the daughter of Irish parents. Her chestnut hair and dark hazel eyes would flash in the sun as she sauntered down Rue St. Dominique chasing the woman who refused to give her an apartment because she was a foreigner, and an American at that! She did not give up easily. She bothered this poor woman into not only giving her an apartment but bullied her into becoming friends. After all was said and done the petite concierge could not help but be fond of the pesky American who bribed and flattered and pushed her way into the building. Sasha had always been like that. If she wanted something to happen, then it was only a matter of time. She never depended on anyone else but herself to make her wishes come true. It was all up to her, every failure as well as victory was her own chosen responsibility and she relished the battle for success. There was so much of Sasha that was completely Midwestern in the way she fought for everything in her life, it was at the core of who she was.
Now she was giving up the battle to stay awake. She just lay in bed and stared out of her window with the lights off. She could see the slate gray rooftops and chimneys and brightly lit windows in the neighborhood all around her. She liked being surrounded by so much life. Every window portrayed another story of Parisian life. She never once felt alone in the four months that had passed since her arrival in January. She could see the clouds all lit up from the city lights below as they passed by more quickly than they ever did in Ohio. The clouds soon became figures prancing across the sky and the lights in the nearby buildings became flashing jewels. Little by little reason began to leave her and for a moment she thought she could hear voices speaking to her; voices that belonged to a different world. They were the voices of the past for surely she was dreaming now. Someone was trying to get her attention.
She was outside in the darkness now. She could hear the sounds of a river in the distance. What was she doing here? What was she looking for? She could not remember what it was but knew that it was extremely important and she felt herself growing more and more anxious in the enveloping darkness. She realized that she knew this place, dark as it was and that she had walked this path countless times. Why couldn’t she remember anything more? Many nights she had found herself thus improperly clad and wandering through the trees down a path that led to somewhere yet to be revealed. Her memories began to wash into her mind and she knew that she was missing something. What could it be? She had everything a modern woman could hope for; her own beautiful mansion in a fashionable area outside of Paris. She had more money than she knew what to do with and more friends than she cared to have. What was wanting in her lovely existence? It was a secret even to herself. She only knew that time and time again she would waken from a disturbing dream to make her way outside. It was the only thing that removed the darkness from her feminine mind. The moonlight seemed to cool her soul which was somehow caught in a struggle between the conscious and the murky domain of dreams. There was nothing to be done for it. The doctors warned her of melancholia and that she should retire to the
South where she would find sunshine and flowers and ocean vistas. Perhaps she would pack up the household and head for Capri. Immediately she dismissed the thought as she realized that for some reason she wanted to stay exactly where she was and find the answer to this perplexing mystery. A rich and beautiful woman like herself had no reason to be caught in such a crisis. Besides her home was so very beautiful and large enough to accommodate the many friends who stayed with her from time to time. Right now the house was empty of course except for her mother and the servants. Her mother was too old to go anywhere now and found herself happy to sit in the orangerie or on the sloped terraces and watch the lovely gardens come to life. It was easily four or five acres.
She turned around quickly. The coolness of the night air seemed to soothe the fevered thoughts running around in her mind. She heard something and felt quite sure that someone was just there lurking behind the trees. She peered through the darkness to gain a vision of something that would confirm her suspicions. These days one could never be too careful. There were spies in the midst of her own salons and intimate circles. No one could be trusted for the people were hungry and angry and the nobility were rich and bored. It was a very dangerous combination and with the revolution in the New World not very long ago the situation seemed even more precarious. Even her salons of late had been filled with troubling news about uprisings and revolutions. She normally forbade political discussions and preferred art or philosophy, yet even she could not stop the wave that was rising up and engulfing all of France. She was old enough to know that there are some things larger than one’s self and stronger than the individual. One had to learn how to yield like one of the enormous plane trees that grew in her park which bent sometimes impossibly to the strongest of gales. She could see no one and heard nothing more as she looked around one more time before returning to the house.
Immortal Beauty Page 2