Indulgence

by Liz Crowe

  I reach a hand up to my face and instinctively feel my skin. It’s rough and wrinkled and my cheeks are sunken. I pull my hand back and my fingers curl, yellow raggedy fingernails springing from the tips. I dig my elbows into the ground and pull my body over the rough surface towards a puddle. I hoist myself up as I near the edge so I can use the water as a mirror. I stare at the person looking at me in the puddle. That’s not me, I think.

  It is an old lady, but not just old, something is wrong with her. Her skin isn’t that of an old person, it is more like that of a mummified body, hardened and aged in color. Her hair is short, like mine, but a gray mess which is falling out in patches. Her eyes are devoid of all color, black pits with tiny yellow specks that revolve in a circular motion. I pull a hand closer to the water and dip a finger. The reflection does the same. I jerk back and grunt before easing myself back over the pool of liquid. I cock my head; the reflection does the same. I reach a hand to my face and pull at my cracked lips. I stick a finger in my mouth and cut it on something sharp. I grunt again and pull myself to my knees so I can push my face closer to the makeshift mirror. I slowly curl my lips back and two sharp dagger-like eyeteeth emerge. The fireball in my pit throws another burst of flames up my throat. I throw my head back in pain and wither on the ground.

  I hear something which sounds like a voice. It is faint at first and seems to quell the burning flames inside of me. The voice is soft and smooth and floats through the air filling my ears. It is calling my name.

  “Allison…………..Allison.”

  The sound is enchanting and intriguing but I don’t know where it’s coming from. It calls my name again so I stand and walk in a circle looking for the source. I settle on a direction and start walking, the voice leading my way. I walk several paces before the voice stops me at the trunk of an enormous oak tree.

  “Ah, Allison,” the voice calls out from behind me.

  I slowly turn to see the source of my guiding voice but all I can see is a black figure with glowing eyes hidden in the shadows of this sterile forest.

  “You are not well, are you?” it asks me. I shake my head.

  “Do you know what will make you feel better?”

  I shake my head again, my eyes fixated on the two shimmering blue specks cloaked in darkness.

  “I know what will make you feel better. Do you want to see?”

  Another burst of fire bellows up my throat, singeing my mouth. I quickly nod my head in affirmation; anything to suppress this burning in my pit.

  “Follow me,” the voice says from the darkness, outstretching a pale hand for me.

  I walk forward and grab the hand and feel instant relief, like the flames have been extinguished. The stranger pulls me forward, pressing his body into mine, his face now visible. The man oddly resembles Vincent yet looks nothing like him. He has the same strong jaw line and the same dark hair, but his complexion is lifeless and his eyes black, like the ones I saw in the puddle, gold specks recklessly spinning at a frantic pace.

  “Do you trust me?” the man asks.

  I don’t know why, but I feel I can trust this man and nod my head. The scene changes in a flash. We are still in the forest, darkness all around, but beyond the forest’s edge, there is sunlight, music and laughter. It’s a party. Where we sit, the forest is still barren, but on the outskirts the trees are filled with green leaves and swags of red material interlaced through the branches.

  I’m sitting on a couch beneath the barren trees, the partygoers out of sight but still within hearing distance. The Vincent lookalike sits on the other end of the white L-shaped couch, a woman swooning in his embrace. She has her head buried in his neck but he does not appear interested. I am not alone either. A man sits behind me, his arms wrapped around me as he nuzzles my neck. But my eyes never leave the man that brought me here. I see my morbid, mummified reflection in his eyes.

  “You know what to do,” he whispers to me, our guests oblivious to his words.

  I don’t quite understand what he means. What am I supposed to do? A flame flickers in my stomach and I turn to look at my suitor. My reflection in this stranger’s eyes paints a different picture. I am beautiful with porcelain skin and vibrant blue eyes. Gone is the dead, decaying flesh and gray hair. There is a glimmer in this man’s eye; he is happy to see my sudden interest. And I am interested too. I want him but in a way I never felt before, in a way I do not quite understand. I am not physically attracted to this man; rather, I am hungry for him. The thought of him calms the beast that roars in my core. I look back at Vincent who nods at me in encouragement.

  “Do it,” he hisses.

  As he says these words, he curls back his lips revealing a set of sharp dagger-like teeth that emerge from his gums. I watch calmly, like I know what he is going to do, like I should expect it. He sinks his teeth into the woman’s neck and she seems to notice nothing as she falls backwards, panting in the heat of the moment. The fool has no idea she is dying. I turn and look at my would-be victim as he inches his face closer to mine. The boiling cauldron in my stomach bubbles over in anticipation. I feel my fangs emerge and my mouth fills with venom. My prey leans in for something he doesn’t know is coming. My teeth penetrate his flesh and his warm blood trickles down my throat, cooling the burning sensation. The satisfaction is overwhelming; the more I drink, the more I want. I press my mouth harder against his neck trying to capture every last drop to satisfy the evil within me. The man does not realize what is happening to him. I feast until there is nothing left, finally feeling fully satisfied, the fire in my pit extinguished. I toss the body aside like an unwanted newspaper. I look over at Vincent, who looks different. His cheeks are full and his color is back. The reflection in his eyes reveals color flooding back to my skin in place of the petrified flesh that was there before. My nails retreat and I feel blood rush to my face. I am strong and satiated. I am what I should be.

  I woke screaming, Vincent already by my side.

  “Allison, what’s wrong? What is it?”

  I sat up panting, trying to catch my breath. I was sweating bullets but that wasn’t too odd these days.

  “Nightmare,” I gasped.

  “It’s okay,” Vincent stated, wrapping his arm around me as he sat on the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No, it was just a meaningless nightmare.”

  I couldn’t tell Vincent about this dream. It felt so real, like we were both actually there witnessing and performing those heinous acts. I didn’t know what was more disturbing, the fact that Vincent, in my dream, seemed to know what we both were or my feeling at the end of the dream. What I did felt right. It felt like second nature. I didn’t feel remorseful about what I had done; I felt good and full of life as my body returned to its normal appearance. This just wasn’t right.

  “Well maybe some breakfast will make you feel better.”

  “No,” I sternly responded, “I just want to go home.”

  Chapter Seven

  Pure relief. That’s what I felt when I was finally back on the mainland. After waking from my nightmare, I took a long, hot shower, quickly dressed and packed my bags even more quickly. I wanted to get off of Rattlesnake Island, and fast. But Vincent apparently had other plans. He insisted he needed to finish work but the only thing he accomplished was annoying me to no end. He kept probing for information about my nightmare even though I told him sternly more than once I had no desire to talk about it. I had to take myself outside for him to get the picture that I was mute on the subject. Vincent seemingly dragged his feet all day until we departed in the late afternoon.

  I sensed that Vincent could tell something was bothering me. Not that this was difficult to figure out; I had barely said a word since leaving the cottage. I just couldn’t shake the nightmare because it was incredibly disturbing on so many levels. I had always believed that dreams were the mind’s way of jumbling a bunch of real memories together and regurgitating them in a different way, but this dream was no jumbled mess of memorie
s. I couldn’t imagine how my mind could conjure up such a disturbing scene of us as vampires in a forest with two unsuspecting victims. Even worse was how real the vision had felt; the pain in my stomach, the hardened skin on my face, and the overwhelming feeling of satisfaction and fullness when I drank the man’s blood. I shuddered at the thought. The dream felt so lifelike it was threatening, and that kept me from talking about it. I had no idea how to explain it all to Vincent. It was unfathomable to me how my mind could present something so horrendous.

  I stared out the passenger window of the Corvette hoping the passing scenery would erase the appalling images and feelings. It was early evening and the sun was setting against a sky rich in shades of gray and purple. The steady stream of rain seemed to be subsiding and raindrops glistened on the baring tree branches. On a normal day, the scene would be quite tranquil, but today it wasn’t enough to expunge the ugliness trapped in my mind.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about your dream?” Vincent insisted.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “You know, sometimes talking about it helps.” Vincent threw me a reassuring glance.

  I sighed heavily, realizing he just wasn’t going to give up. And unlike the cottage, where I could go outside and avoid Vincent, I was trapped here in the car. I had no escape, at least not until we got back to my house. And if his antics at the cottage were any indication, he was going to badger me all the way home.

  “It was just a disturbing dream that I don’t know how to explain.”

  “Well why don’t you tell me and maybe I can help figure it out with you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

  “I don’t like to see you like this. You aren’t yourself. I think if you talked about it, you would discover what the dream was trying to tell you.”

  “Kind of like a hidden message?”

  “Something like that.”

  It was a good point, but Vincent hadn’t a clue about what I had seen and felt last night. There was no way this dream had any kind of hidden message.

  “Fine, but I’m warning you, it’s a weird one.” I smiled at Vincent and he returned the gesture.

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Well, we were both in the dream,” I started.

  “And you consider that a nightmare?” Vincent joked.

  I smirked and continued. “We were in this strange place. It was a forest of sorts. It was dark and colorless, lifeless for that matter. The trees were gray and leafless and blended into the black sky and the place smelled terrible. Anyway, I was there and in tremendous pain. It was the worst stomachache I’ve ever experienced times a thousand. It was this awful burning that churned in my stomach. On top of that, I looked horrible, like a mummified monster. My skin was hard and discolored and my hair was falling out. I heard what I thought was your voice calling me so I followed it and found you. Only you didn’t look like you. You looked ill too, but not mummified like me. You looked malnourished, I guess. You took my hand and the scene changed to where you and I were sitting on a couch with two strangers, a man and a woman, who were clearly unaware of the danger around them.”

  “Danger? Because you weren’t feeling well and looked awful?” Vincent teased.

  “Yes, danger,” I replied, ignoring his attempt at a joke. “You, uh, went first and then I followed.”

  “I don’t quite follow you.”

  “You, um -- bit the woman,” I said, discomfort clearly apparent in my voice.

  “I bit the woman?” Vincent asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yes. Like a vampire,” I confessed before rushing into the rest of my explanation. “But then I bit the man and it was horrible. I cast him aside like he meant nothing but I felt great about what I had just done, like I was reborn. I felt better physically, and my appearance changed back to normal. It felt so real and so right. It was quite disturbing.”

  There was a long pause as I stared straight ahead through the wet windshield. I was afraid to look over and see Vincent’s reaction. I could tell by the peaks and valleys in the road that we were getting closer to my house. That was a good thing. After my ridiculous revelation, I was planning to lock myself in my room and duck my head under the covers and hide myself from Vincent. He had to think I was a complete lunatic after hearing my dream.

  “Hmm,” Vincent purred from the driver’s seat as he downshifted around a corner.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Huh? What?” Vincent asked. He apparently was deep in thought over something.

  “What are you mulling over?” I couldn’t possibly believe he could be thinking that hard about my ghastly dream. There was no way to interpret it, to make sense of it. It was just a bunch of nonsensical stuff.

  “Your dream,” Vincent responded matter-of-factly.

  “First, it was a nightmare. And second, what could be so interesting? It means nothing!”

  “If it means nothing, then why do you suppose it bothers you so much?”

  I threw myself back into my seat. “Because it was disturbing on so many levels.” I paused. “Yet it felt so real.”

  Vincent was quiet as we rounded another corner. He looked like he was thinking about something again.

  “What?” I asked. I was getting irritated that he was making so much out of nothing at all.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Oh no, come on…what is it? You made me tell you my ridiculous nightmare; you can surely tell me what you are thinking.” I couldn’t wait to hear his interpretation of my horrific dream.

  “Okay,” Vincent said, turning his head to look at me. “What if it’s true?” He narrowed his eyes as he asked the question with intense sincerity.

  “What if what’s true?”

  “Your dream, of course.” Vincent was serious and wasn’t giving any signs that he was joking.

  “Oh come on! You can’t be serious?”

  “But I am. What if we are vampires?”

  His comment was so absurd I almost didn’t respond. “I’d have to say you need to get your head examined. There’s no such thing as vampires.”

  “Have you ever thought about it?”

  “Thought about what? Being a vampire?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yeah, that’s something I think about all the time. Come on Vincent, knock it off. Are we really having this discussion? Vampires aren’t real.”

  Vincent chuckled softly as he turned into my driveway.

  “Oh, but they are my dear.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, the nonsense that was coming out of Vincent’s mouth. He had to be pulling my leg, but he had one heck of a poker face going on. Vampires? The thought was beyond ludicrous.

  “What are you looking for?” Vincent asked.

  I pushed my face closer to the passenger window, pretending to look for something. “A full moon. That’s the only explanation for your wacky behavior right now.”

  “There’s nothing wacky, as you say, about my behavior. Allison, have you ever really paid attention to the world around you? Vampires do exist.”

  I had had about enough of this garbage. We had spent a couple of wonderful days together, and now he was pulling this weirdo act on me. I couldn’t imagine why he would be doing this to me, especially now. I felt like my life was finally falling back into place after my accident and now I was going to find out that my companion was off his rocker.

  Vincent parked the car in the garage and I immediately jumped out and grabbed my bag out of the back. I snatched the keys from his grasp and hurriedly unlocked the house door, flinging my bag inside.

  “What’s wrong, Allison?” Vincent called after me.

  “Seriously? Get out of my house!” I shouted at Vincent as I stormed into the kitchen.

  What’s wrong, I thought! He couldn’t be serious. He wanted me to consider that vampires actually existed and he had the nerve to ask me what was wrong?

  “Please consider it,” Vincent stated.
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  “Excuse me?” I stopped in my tracks and twirled around.

  “Just let me explain,” Vincent calmly beseeched in his smooth voice as he followed me into the kitchen.

  “Explain what?” I felt a rush of blood go straight to my face as anger swelled inside of me. “You expect me to believe that you are a vampire? That I am a vampire? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? Vampires…do…not…exist!” I snarled each word individually, my nostrils flaring. “Why are you doing this to me? Why now? I was starting to feel normal again, to understand my life and everything that has happened over the past three years and you spring this absurd consideration on me?” I broke down in sobs.

  Vincent ignored my questions and spoke in a calm voice. “The dreams you have been having, they are trying to tell you something.”

  I paused and took a few short shallow breaths. “How do you know what I dream about?” I asked coldly.

  “Look at me,” he gently commanded in a soft voice as he grabbed my arm and pulled me close to him.

  “Look at me, Allison.” Vincent placed a scorching finger under my chin and lifted my head to meet his gaze. His touch was much hotter than it had been earlier. He placed his other arm around my waist. “This is what you dream about.”

  Suddenly, the dream flashed before me in broken segments, but I could make out enough to realize that it was indeed my dream, the one I craved each night when I went to bed. There was the garden with all of the tropical flowers, the canopy of trees and the animals roaming freely. Then the scene fluttered and I saw the stream and a bridge. The vision flickered again and I was floating over flat lands and valleys filled with tall grasses. Then the tree appeared, with its glittering fruit swaying in the breeze, throwing off prisms of color. The final scene showed the stranger biting the fruit and the serpent attacking the man.

  I gasped as I pulled away from Vincent. “What in the hell…” I stared in disbelief, my breathing labored. How did I just see that, I thought. I searched Vincent’s face for an answer but didn’t find it. He just stared into my eyes, waiting for my reaction.