darkness 

EVA

In a shimmering black fur coat she sits on the sofa lounging extravagantly. Sophistication oozes out of her like hot lava does from a volcano. Sitting there silently she waits for her next prey for she has mastered the art of manipulation. One glance into her large brown eyes would put you into a hypnotic trance a slave to her every desire. Her name is Eva.
As for you, you have no name.

A jazz quartet plays in the background the smooth sounds only magnified by the alcohol in your blood stream. You stand their moon bathing in the balcony with a tall glass in your hand. Kissing the glass ever so softly at brief intervals of time you dream. The land breeze cools your brow and aurora of light from a million light bulbs blinds your eyes while the drink in your hand blocks out your brain.
Your legs jingle to the sound of the saxophone and your body sways to the music like a cobra. You close your eyes only for a moment turn and forget who are, just for a second you become just nobody.
Turning slowly you walk measured steps the music gets louder and you can feel the presence of people around you but you can not see there faces. Vision plays trick on you because you always see what you want to and not what is actually there. There is no getting beyond your eyes. You look around trying to make contact like a lone alien on a quest to find his home planet lost in space. Yet all you see is nothing, faceless premonitions of people and all you hear is noise of a distant music.
The world is spinning around you and the centrifugal force is pushing you outward like a wayward curve and now gravity is your only savior as you fall to the ground like one of Galileo’s experiments. Time freezes cold and it seems to take forever and a nanosecond before the impact you smile as your face hits into the icy marble floor.


Her eyes are on you, she is watching. A teardrop rolls down her cheek at the sight of your fall from grace. She grimaces but sits there motionless on the sofa. Her diaphragm contracts gently as she breaths in and breathes out small puffs of air. Breathing is such a trivial exercise born out of a craving to be alive. As she sits there she thinks of better days when everybody was together for togetherness
like everything else in this world togetherness is temporary. In the inner breaches of her mind she looses herself to thoughts of life, death and the fallen you.

As you lie there on the glass of what was your drink you don’t feel like getting up you’re satisfied in just lying there in your illusion that everything will be ok. But compulsion is greater then illusion. Disoriented and drunk you get up and walk to the sofa. You know what people say to you?
“You’re Drunk when you’re sober. and you’re sober when you’re drunk. If you would only take LSD you would answer the questions of existence.”
I know it doesn’t make any sense but that’s what people say.

Woken from the inner breaches of her mind by the clambering steps of the fallen .Her eyes broaden and she becomes alert like a tigress is to her prey. The glint of your reflection hovers over her eye like the future does over a crystal ball. She looks at you carefully from head to toe, she counts the folds on your shirt, counts your white hair from your black, and she notices your untied shoe lasses. She can see the pain in your eyes the blood in your mind and the hole through your heart.

There is a romance in the two colors, black in white. If you seen a rainbow in black and white you would see the same two colors in seven shades of the same. The face of the people you have met in the years of life, flash by like mug shots in a police archive. Then you catch a glimpse of her brown eyes, black flowing locks of hair and she smiles .Her face, just a mirror for the Sun.



You move towards her using all your energy. But you go nowhere it like you're running in the sand or swimming in honey. The floor beneath your feet becomes soft as butter and your legs begin to dissolve like salt in water. Molecule by molecule you disintegrate till you are just a puddle of salt water. You’re now nothing but an amoeba left with your thoughts. You revolve around your thoughts lost like Alice was in Wonderland.

She tilts her head ever so gently like dogs do and frowns. She looks at you, standing there frozen in your impending motion. All she sees is a fellow human being caught in the outer reaches of reality where nothing really matters and everything is an illusion. Her frown turns to a smile.

Her smile is a catalyst for change causing your molecules to re-multiply like they never done before. Limbs grow back where there were limbs, hair where there was hair, and eyes where there were eyes. You are reborn, if you close your eyes all you’ll see is the light. Your heart starts pumping, blood start flowing, and you feel the power in your muscles. In your new form you smile back.

Everything returns to normality. I mean normality like everything else in relative terms. You look at your self, brush away the dust from your wrinkled shirt, run a hand through your hair. Its like nothing really happened. You feel rejuvenated as if the alcohol that earlier blurred your vision has turned to caffeine and you are now blessed with the agility of a crocodile wrestler. You walk quickly across the room nudging away all in your way. You are on a mission my friend a mission to be free.


“A smile is a powerful weapon; you can even break ice with it” she thought to herself. As she does her smiles turn more radiant than the sun and one glimpse at which would make the melancholy man change his name.

You walk up to her and look down at her and stare with dreamy eyes. Seconds pass by but you’re still standing there directly above her. She makes the first step. “May I help you”? To which you briskly reply, “ Is this seat taking”. Taking the seat next to her before she could answer you wait. Counting the seconds you double 2s ,calculate the rpm at which the ceiling fan is rotating .You do everything but look at her or better talk to her.
She sits there in dormancy, still no response; she begins to get frustrated by your nonchalance. Faith intervenes, faith has a habit of intervening into matters that are none of her business but if you know faith she also has a habit of making it her business. As for Lady Luck she is far to complicated to analyze. Ask the gambler who has just lost his shirt?
You look at her nudged ever so gently by faith ,into the vast expanse that are her watery brown eyes. She sits there like a Georgian Water Color painting wrapped in silk. You open your mouth to talk but the next thing you know she is in your arms in a loving embrace. Her perfume engulfs you like a meadow of spring flowers. You know the fragrance but it escapes you. You pull her hair behind her ears and you move to kiss her, she closes her eyes in anticipations you move closer ……


“ Clap Clap Clap .”
You wake up with a jolt, breathing heavily. You find your self on a large couch disoriented.

“That will be enough for today son, thank you. See you next week. Remember to take your medication,” says a middle age man dressed formally sitting on a rather large leather chair.
Then it comes to you it was French Vanilla. That was the perfume she was wearing. French Vanilla.