Wyndstar

This is for semtecks...
This is the only other part to that book that's completely typed out. It is very long so I'll have to update it in three parts. Its not done in the pov of any of the chars because one of them isn't part of the group as of this point.

CLOSER THAN BREATH

She followed the music thru the mist, feeling no more substance to herself than the fleeting dreams of sensibility and cautions stripped away by waves of desire and obsession.

He was the source, melody the current drawing her inexorably towards the inevitable.

Each element, each note part of a symphony.

When it was complete, she would be lost to it forever…

“…Terri.” Gerend handed her a glass of champagne, and she was riveted once again to the more obvious flow of reality.

The touch of his fingers however caused parts of the intruding vision to linger, like---

Whispers and mists…

She closed her eyes and tried to clear her being of feelings that clung to her like her own breath.

Gerend caught her eyes when Terri forced herself outward, and kept what he found within them…

No, this wasn’t what she expected when Siene had wanted to go to the opera, any more than she expected Gerend, a longtime friend of Eacho’s grandfather, to offer to be her escort. But, there they were, Siene, Eacho, Gerend and Terri, dressed elegantly and subtly sensual, at the opera.

They hardly anticipated anything out of the ordinary, it was not a world famous theatre, the players weren’t well known, the area was obscure, no one would recognize them.

“…Not that anyone would if sis were back home.” Eacho smirked teasingly “She usually shops at ‘Dowd’s ‘R’ Us’.”

He was right of course; Emerita had seen to Siene and Terri’s appearance. Even Terri was so striking; the sight of her gave Gerend’s feelings away to both Siene and Eacho. And certainly, those who knew her casually wouldn’t recognize her, because Emerita dressed the reality of the woman, not the illusions most preferred to see.

Crushed velvet, burgundy and Gerend’s gaze dressed Terri, as Siene was dressed in white, satin and regality.

It seemed, to Gerend and Eacho, that Terri and Siene were the most extraordinary parts of the opera.

Until intermission.

Until the intrusion of Terri’s consciousness.

And it didn’t even originate from Terri; it was more a sort of contagion, a bleed over.

It was from Eacho.

Without having to speak, Terri’s gaze led Gerend to her brother.

He was moving, almost as if he were under water, towards the doors leading to the now empty theatre.

“The music.” She whispered to Gerend in concern “He can ‘hear’ music, like it’s a spell.”

“It wouldn’t be a spell, but a call that your twin was open to.” Gerend corrected, though no less concerned “Siene’s still inside?”

“She wanted to meditate on the resonance.” Terri recalled solemnly “But Gerend---we’ve been to operas before. They’ve never been able to affect us like this.”

“There are enough factors here to overwhelm any entity that doesn’t exactly exist via human perceptions, Terri.” Gerend reminded her, touching a stoned archway “This theatre is centuries old, a conveyance for both natural and human energies. And while Siene and Eacho have stifled any traces of psychic ability,” He reminded solemnly “Those restrictions don’t restrict what they accept and believe. Nor,” added Gerend in warning “Will it restrict such openness for us while we’re with them…”

…Still, it was surprising to hear Gerend speak with such understanding.

He wasn’t affiliated with anything having to do with a reality where ESP existed, despite knowing that their group did…

“…So, maybe we should just collect them and go.” Terri considered grimly “And next time, we’ll arrange for dampeners---“

“Why?”

Terri was taken aback, but not because Gerend’s question surprised her.

It was because it was a question---she wasn’t sure of herself…

***

He couldn’t tell which it was; music or rain.

Never the less, it called to Eacho, and he couldn’t stop drowning in it.

This was not to say he wasn’t enjoying it.

Despite repressing his gifts, despite his acceptance of being distanced from a rich auditory connection, Eacho still had more control over his auditory senses than those around him. He knew how to differentiate each subtle tone and pitch. He could follow each separate sound to their origins, to the wellsprings of their potency and resonate with its reason for being.

He was in sync with the harmonic vibration of his mate, Siene. She was filled to capacity with the power of the lightning shooting into the heavens so that her very breath was the fire of creation.

Eacho wanted to ride the wildness of her essence until he was in tatters, and the gentleness of her nature returned, like soft rain and time, bringing him gradually back to himself.

These things whispered and taunted him thru the entire performance thus far, and even thru the intermission, he could feel them, like breath, still connected to him, though he could not see it, could not grasp it…

It never occurred to either Eacho or Siene that this could be threatening. They had specifically chosen a non-threatening situation during a place and time least likely to offer them any. They had chosen a moment where intrigue offered ambience, but lacked directness.

They’d chosen a rose without thorns, so they were told.

Now, as intermission had come upon them, and the four had chosen to move separately, all Eacho could think about was the completion of this symphony of elements that offered to sate the addiction they created. He willed the continuation, and the inevitability his mind made of it.

If Eacho had any doubts, they were all embodied in his twin, and he unwittingly dealt with her by trying to extend the effect before shutting himself off from her.

He did not wish the flow disrupted.

And his connection, his immortal love, brilliance in crystal, perfection in heat and breath, lived for their combined joy with her entire being.

It was more than enough

And Eacho saw his need as it rose from sound and stone. It rose from the sands of time, and the dreams of man, smiling down on him, a torrent of rapture granted by agony.

It didn’t matter; Eacho craved the one, accepting the other as a blind consequence.

Both came thru the door.

And they swallowed he and Siene whole…

***

Gerend’s eyes flashed, and the struggle, a mere moment, was enough to cause Terri to put some distance between them.

A step backwards…

“…Shit!”

It wasn’t very lady like, but then, anyone who knew Terri would never have accused her of being lady like in the first place.

A lady didn’t go skulking around old, abandoned theatres in foreign countries anyway.

Despite being boarded up and in disrepair, the place was breathtaking nonetheless, and was worth the money she paid the old gypsy man for his hand drawn map.

Stone and stained glass, this theatre on the outside of some little nowhere town was still alive; its faint breath drawing Terri past broken glass, briars, rotting wood and dust into itself, into the unknown.

Not so unknown, the woman reconsidered.

It had been on an old tour map she’d found on the base she was stationed at. So she took a few days leave, got on a bus, found a tour guide that thought he was a gypsy---

He made her ride a horse. As the place was almost in the woods, she could understand that, but he didn’t go with her.

It was odd, but Terri didn’t dwell on it.

Instead, she landed on her butt pushing past a board into the theatre---but at least she was inside.

Terri rose. The place was rather intimate for a theatre; smaller and more warmly decorated than most she was familiar with. It was dressed in old Victorian grandeur, evident despite the fading, dust and grime.

She noticed the place was littered with cans; cheap beer by most standards.

Teenagers had been using the place as a flophouse.

Terri gingerly stepped around them, and traversed deeper into the theatre.

Sunlight streaked thru broken shutters and the floor was covered with the remnants of old gas lamps, glass and yellowing billets.

When she heard a noise in the main hall, Terri took up her flashlight.

It lit up, all by itself!

It lit up---stairs, to her left, traveling up a narrow passage to what seemed a trap door.

“The roof maybe?” She wondered.

She could hear teenagers whispering and considered a strategic withdrawal---until she accidentally touched the handrail to the stairs.

And vanished into the thoughts of someone else.

Eacho channeling the past…

***

The storm raged as if mankind had ruptured something vital in his imagination and it spilled without direction, angry that it had no course but chaos, and so took to it with all its being.

Amand held his hands to his ears as the thunder threatened to crack open his head to force him into its maniacal dancing.

Never the less, he ran frantically down the hall, panic working hard to remain apace with him as he beat thru the crowd.

The storm made the hall dark, but he knew where he was going.

The hallway leading to the trap door was glutted with patrons and Theatre Company. They prevented themselves from getting up the stairs.

“It’s locked.” Someone mentioned to him.

Amand didn’t care.

She was up there, on the roof, dancing in the rain, but she did not dance alone.

Amand could feel her partner.

It was a rope.

Eacho screamed…

***

…Like a sonic blast, and the shock cut thru both Terri’s mind and spinal cord. She felt her body give way, but she did not hit the stairs.

Something had swept her off her feet and carried her far, far away from the screams and the teenagers, whose voices were filled with malicious intent.

Terri couldn’t speak. She was barely conscious. Past, present and future memory congealed sloppily into a vaguely familiar image she could barely grasp.

Was it a man---in a mask?

No---no features, just shadows.

Long, dark hair…

He wore a cloak---of mists…?

She saw a door open and as he carried her inside, she saw that it was a dressing room. As he laid her down on a couch, Terri saw a faded poster on the wall. It advertised a singer from long, long ago.

It had been Amand…

Terri would have dwelled on it longer, but words began filling her head, their order and form had to be precise, and their presence was so tangible, she could almost read them…

“…Semantics without power…”

She was drawn from them.

He breathed along the nape of her neck, whispering words that were kisses while his hand trailed down, unbuttoning her blouse. The other was slipped between her shoulder blades, pushing her body to meet his descending breath as it stopped along the skin above Terri’s heart.

Her own breath caught between the coolness and the fire expanding there beneath, flooding her entire being.

It was the entity himself.

Even when the past crashed with loss and anguish, there was the rapture of a touch that was as pervasive as dream, following a trail blazoned by its opposite that weakened forces ordinarily standing against all intrusive sensation. And once he had the path, it was his, forever…

Moments later, the horse stood waiting at a window as Terri was escorted back; she couldn’t stay longer with the teenagers on the premises.

She galloped away on the horse, promising not to forget...

__________________
Old enough to know better, young enough to think I can still get away with it.

eggo

Hi Wyndstar,

This may have been for semtecks, but I read it anyways. Although I got lost early and stayed lost, this was absolutley beautiful. It swept me away with the excellent prose and outstanding imagery.

This first sentence trapped me.

The way the story and her feelings entwines with the music was kick ass.

such as,

and
blew me away.
very nice, indeed.

I realize that she is disembodied and she is traveling through the same theater at different time intervals but, was still a bit confused. You might consider short descriptions embedded for your characters. IE Gerend, my host body for my visit to 1863, or some such.
Repeating who a character is along the way is never a bad idea. An introspective thought process can accomplish the same thing. The old " I remember when..." thing.


Then again, It might be i'm as dumb as a box of rocks.

Thanks for sharing Wyndy. This was great.

Wyndstar

Since semtecks might bail, I'm going to try and step up posting this.

I actually wrote this in steps. The first part was to deliberately give the reader the feeling of being as lost and disoriented as Terri is, sucked in as was Eacho. The second and third parts actually give explanation.

Oh eggo, you have yet to display being dumb...

Pt II
…And neither would Eacho.

He was riding inside a man whose name was Amand Casset, and he was a singer so sublime, he could make stone weep.

For a moment, he did not understand why this man continued to exist in obscurity with such a power, natural talent.

The thought passed when he heard her, the sound of her song washing away all thought not consistent with the moment.

Larissa.

She was a dancer in the ballet corp. of mediocre standing. She was quiet, unassuming to those who did not know her, but the beauty of her soul was beyond compare.

Amand loved her.

And then, he heard her sing.

Within that moment, thru her voice, Larissa had come to own his very soul which joyfully, it submitted to. And Amand danced willingly into this exquisite captivity.

Amand, however, saw to it that the one with such power over him wore the chains that bound her just as securely---to him.

Every day, he sang to her, seduced her slowly and methodically to bring down her defenses.


Tonight, she would belong to him, in body as well as heart and soul---and it did not matter that she belonged to another.

Tonight, she would cease to exist for that other, and Amand would be free to take them both to a place where they truly belonged.

As the Eacho persona had no fondness for the human concept of marriage, there were no feelings of contradiction or guilt, particularly since Larissa’s husband so often away.

So lovely a soul, and so lonely, Amand would have her to himself.

Eacho certainly wouldn’t stand in his way, for that path also led---to Siene…

***

From her vantage within Larissa, Siene heard him singing from behind the dressing curtain, and her resolve drifted away, like the layers of memory that separated the times past from those she actually lived lifted away when she dreamed.

No one else could hear him but her…

He had always been magic, had Amand, and dangerous. Larissa had known that from the start. In him, she saw power, and something eternal. In his eyes, there was such depth, so black---she’d look in them, and feel as if he were trying to absorb her.

Unfortunately those who just wanted to use her had fooled her more than once, so Larissa tried hard to keep her distance. She was not beautiful after all, she would never amount to much more than the ballet corp, and she had little money.

All her dower had gone to her soldier husband, who scarcely saw her.

And yet, despite this, Amand stayed with the theater, he haunted her with music.

He haunted her dreams…

And then one day, he convinced her to sing.

Never had she imagined that Amand could be enchanted. Never had he been as enchanting. His eyes were no longer dark, but so beautiful, brightened.

That was when Larissa knew she loved him, though she tried hard to protect herself, to little avail. Amand became intoxicatingly relentless when he suspected.

He knew the truth; she told him first off that she belonged to someone else, though for a split second, Siene did not understand why that was relevant.

It was a moment of doubt transmitted to Larissa, as Amand sang to her from behind her dressing curtain, of sweetness and longing turning to sublime passion, both emotional---

And physical…

“…There is nothing I would not do for you, my lady.” He sang, his voice an almost hypnotic murmur. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, caressed her enticingly thru her thin chemise.

She closed her eyes, laid her head back against his shoulder, and melted into him.

Siene’s doubt had been just enough…

“My love,” he declared thickly “You are mine.”

And Larissa said to him “I know…”

***

Terri opened her eyes.

The lights were flickering on and off, signified that the opera was soon to resume.

She rushed back to the main theatre.

Eacho and Siene were still there, but Terri knew---in body only.

“I remember this place now!” She gasped breathlessly, drawing Gerend to the outer hall, beyond earshot of anyone who wanted to hear “I remember visiting this place years ago before it was renovated in response to cultivating tourism---but I’d bypassed it.” She admitted darkly “I was afraid of the teenagers, and that the place would fall down around my ears---until THIS moment, when something sent me back to THAT moment…”

…And quickly, she explained about the staircase, the storm, and Eacho…

“…He’s living the life of a man whose love died on the roof of this opera house. A woman,” she concluded ominously “That’s Siene now, too.”

Terri did not tell him about her other encounter.

“Do you know what part of the history your brother is in now?” Gerend questioned, now holding on to her shoulders.

“I can try tapping into his mind,” She admitted, though hardly eager “He’s tried infecting me, but as a distraction---he wants this though, Gerend.” Terri had to acknowledge, barely comprehending “He let the opera house infect him enough that to him, the consequences don’t really matter.”

“When you think about life, Terri, your brother’s choice isn’t surprising.” The man pointed out to her “Life’s heartaches can be worth experiencing in exchange of experiencing its joys.”

“But he already has Siene.”

“And we already know the ending to this opera---we’ve seen it before.” Terri was reminded “But here we are, regardless, to have our emotions, our thoughts stimulated, to be opened to experience again.”

“And you think Siene is really looking forward to the experience of being murdered?”

“If its her choice.” Then, Gerend’s eyes narrowed “And what makes you think this woman was murdered?”

“Because---“

Because the person Terri was now saw suicide as a weakness, and therefore could barely acknowledge it as a consideration…

“Because considering anything else speaks even worse of the situation.” She answered after a moment of carefully thought out semantics “And I’m not sure that Siene would continue if she knew what Eacho’s choice entailed for her.”

“Then if it’s simply a matter of you not being sure---“

“Gerend---!” He captured his hand in hers.

“---Then it would be my pleasure that you are…!

Gerend slammed her hand flat on a stone archway, holding it in place with his own.

Terri heard the thunderous sound of applause from an audience, felt lightning crash, and caught the scent of lilacs and gardenias.

Moments of transition, confusion, exchange and memory…

Minds crossed…

Siene’s moment of doubt was enough to influence Larissa, but shattered the illusion for Siene; she could not maintain herself within it.

And Eacho would not be without his Siene, so he followed her, both becoming ghosts in that time and place.


There was a certain pleasure in being free from the confines of physicality, essence being immersed in a sea of myriad realities.

One reality was pure romance, pure poignancy, created by Larissa and Amand.

Yet, theirs were not the only essences that created the atmosphere that electrified and simulated Eacho. They were not the only notes in the symphony.

And the pair followed the rest…

__________________
Old enough to know better, young enough to think I can still get away with it.

Chris Miller

I've taken a cue from eggo here and am reading this for its prose, rather than trying too hard to follow the narrative and characters. The characters are especially hard for me to follow because they are often two people, although even here I am a little lost.

But that doesn't mater. Eggo is right about the prose. It is quite evocative. I notice in this piece that you have simplified it somewhat. But still, your vocab and syntax are beautiful. Words like "dower" sort of spread it all over time.

At times I find it telling, and would like to see proof, for example:
I find I am drawn more into the character of the omniscient narrator than any other for some reason.

__________________
the fairwriting blogs

Barcelona Review story: http://www.barcelonareview.com/64/e_cm.html

Wyndstar

Here's the last bit. I'll admit up front that unless you read the whole book, this would be hard to read unless its red on merit of prose alone. But again, semtecks had asked. He was the only reader I really expected.

I know the end might not be very satisfying, giving way to more questions than answers. If anyone wants them, just pm me and I'll give them. It pretty much answers the whole book itself.


Chris, I don't understand what you mean by

Here's the finale...
***

It began to rain when they stepped inside the theatre.

“She must know we’re coming.” The heavy set woman with hair and a face resembling scouring cloths, drenched in gray, declared in disdain, throwing her coat and gloves callously at the 1st theatre employee she saw.

“As if the normal weather isn’t abysmal enough. YOU!” she directed her obnoxious attentions to another employee “Where do the other theatre menials work?”

“Beg pardon, madam?”

“The maid’s station---my son’s wife works there. Where IS it?”

The employee pointed, and then he scurried away before the awful woman could get truly abusive.

A braver soul however, stayed long enough to recognize the pair…

“Once we find that wife of yours, you must see to her immediately.” The woman was heard to say to a once attractive younger man with salt and pepper hair, and a midsection that was many years along “Once you get her with child, you will be able to bring her under control, and force her to act the proper wife, for you have given her too much freedom for too long.”

“She’s been supporting us mother.” The man mentioned, though with little conviction in defending she in question.

“And she can continue to do so.” The woman declared pitilessly “It only takes a day to push out a pup, and she can clean with it wrapped to her teats. Now come along.” She commanded, without brooking argument “It is time to take Larissa out of here…”

***
The words had come from Larissa…

“…You are mine.”
“I know…”

…She said them, meant them with all her heart---which she gave to Amand, along with her body.

Larissa had loved Amand, for all he was, despite the reasons she could not grasp, could not understand. She loved him as a part of herself.

She was his now.

Overstepping the last vestiges of what had been between them, Amand carried her to the couch, dressed her in his hungry gaze, his sighs of appreciation, his very body, in such a way to make it so there was no question.

Larissa gazed at the wall, where a picture of her love hung. She had imagined once, in a dream, where he’d laid her down, loved her in a way beyond the body…

She became lost in his touch then, her cries of rapture. Amand’s voice matching his body’s declaration of love---

“…Larissa! You MUST LISTEN to me! Open the door! Before its too late!”

There was pounding to break down the door.

“My love, do not---“

“I must, Amand.” Larissa slipped away, trying to dry the tears as they began to fall “Anetta comes this way for one reason only…”

It had not been finished, but Larissa’s pain was so great, there was only one thing more certain than her love for Amand.

That SHE WAS finished.

Her husband and mother in law had found her, and were there to take her home…

***

The storm began to rage. There was pain and anger building to a fatal crescendo, and Eacho had to follow.

He was with Amand again.

He did not look angry. He sailed down the hall of the opera with such iron control, it seemed as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and yet---

There was the air of bad dreams and the anger of a god.

Eacho had to shield himself, even inside Amand, even believing he was Amand, making it that he was simply a shadow.

But Eacho/Amand knew these things:
Amand loved Larissa in a manner that was almost inhuman, that he could feel Larissa’s love equal his own.

He knew that Larissa should have been his that night, and that, had she been, things would have turned out far differently.

He knew that Larissa’s husband had returned, was demanding time in her private chambers immediately, and Amand understood why.

So did Larissa.

Amand felt her pain, her anguish, but he also knew that Larissa regretted nothing. That in their being together, Larissa understood the choices she had made, accepted that agony for the bliss that far outweighed it.

Amand had seen it in her eyes when she turned from him that one last time.

That was enough…

Before fulfilling her husband’s request, he bade her to the payroll office; he wanted her last bit of money, so she would not somehow cheat him.

Amand was going to find her, and take her. Once he completed the bond, they could quit this situation forever. None would hold dominion over them ever again.

But the stone in the opera house already resounded with tragedy.

Amand heard the cries.

Larissa was on the roof during the height of the storm.

And Eacho felt the rope…

***

Terri heard the sonic scream for the second time, reality gave way beneath her, and she once again found herself lying on a couch in a dressing room.
She was dreaming.

Larissa was on this couch. Amand held her as if to absorb her. He ravished her with a kiss so deep and so crushing, Terri stirred in tandem with Larissa, begging Armand to ‘finish her’.

Then, she could feel Eacho’s barriers drop. There was a knock on the door.

A stagehand.

“Leave.” Gerend commanded coldly imperious.

The knocking stopped.

Terri’s eyes fluttered open.

“I couldn’t get to the point where Siene was.” She muttered sadly, as Gerend helped her up “I couldn’t do anything but follow the expected course. I couldn’t change anything.”

“Did you think they’d want you to?”

Sadly, Terri answered “No. But Gerend---“ She had to admit the uncomfortable fact “I don’t know how she died.”

Gerend sighed, gazing down at her with an expression full of tenderness and understanding.

“Terri, how Larissa died isn’t what was important,” He promised her softly, sincerely “What mattered, was what she chose, and that she loved---“

“Now THAT,” a loud voice/thought declared dramatically “Was opera!”

Eacho.

Siene was beside him, daubing ladylike tears from her eyes.

“And you sound like a cheesy moral, bud.” Eacho teased Gerend, a hearty slap to the back “But I gotta tell you---this place is the most fantastic interactive operatic experience. Is this typical for opera, sis?”

“No.” She admitted with a frown “And---you just experience a tragedy that happened, to real people. You felt that man’s pain when he realized what happened to his love---and you act like you just got off a roller coaster.”

“You mean---it wasn’t the opera?”

“No.” both sister and bond mate answered.

“You were absorbed by the opera houses’ memories.” Gerend carefully explained, his expression somewhat hooded “Sometime in the past, two people’s experiences were recorded in stone. The music and Siene’s energies animated those recordings.”

“That would explain why I was pulled back into the past from when I visited here.” Terri considered, though not convinced “But THIS time, why did I actually go inside? What compelled me?”

“It was my power perhaps, sensing the memory of you, trying to reach you.” Siene rationalized “Though as your brother and I remained chronally in place, the manipulation became chaotic, and displaced the true aspect of you.”

“Well, I can be properly mournful.” Eacho stated, subduing himself as befit the information given him “But this still tops them, sis. This place tops them all…”

***

There were still a lot of questions, particularly after looking for a history to confirm what they had experience.

The group found nothing; it was as if history had erased it all.

Never the less, for the foursome, the experience was quite real. It had been real enough that it had caused changes yet to be acknowledged.

They were changes that those who had an investment in history being deleted would find very problematic.

Very problematic indeed…

__________________
Old enough to know better, young enough to think I can still get away with it.