Read Online Gathered Dust and Others by W. H. Pugmire - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: W. H. Pugmire
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entrance. I felt the cold lips that kissed my neck; I felt them press against my ear and sigh the Latin epigraph. I could smell the bourbon on his breath.
“You’re a naughty wretch, Agnes, to exile yourself from our company. Come, let my friends adore your beauty; you look fetching in that tight dress, which clings to you like second skin. Come.” His cool hand touched my arm.
“I’m in need of air. I’ll join you anon.” I looked up at the yellow moon and my flesh chilled at how macabre that sphere looked, casting its morbid light on the dismal place wherein we stood. Had the atmosphere grown cooler, or was it some psychic premonition of what was to come that caused my flesh to creep? When I finally turned to gaze into my brother’s eyes, I saw within their luster a kind of craziness; and when his hands were suddenly pressing my arms against the cold surface of the mausoleum I suddenly panicked. “No,” I told him.
“Be not afraid,” he whispered. “I know you abhor the darkness. It’s such a childish fear,” he mocked. “Darkness is our friend. Here, let me lead you into this depth of blackness, and you’ll find that you have naught to fear.” I cried in pain at the tight hold of his hand around my wrist. “Come, Agnes, don’t fight me.”
“Let go of me, brother.”
“Come, it’s just a few steps down, and then you’ll stand again on solid ground. We can lay together on one of the oblong tombs that hold the remains of some long forgotten sod. Come, follow me.”
He had stepped into the shadow and was tugging my arm; yet still I resisted, and when I yanked my hand from him he tripped over his feet in trying to pull me to him. We both fell – I onto the cold hard ground, he down the rough-hewn steps into the place of darkness. Nervously, I clutched at the stiff dead grass and listened for his curses, but there was no sound, excepting the distant crying of a night-bird that pursued its prey. I looked up at the moon and winked at it, and I could feel its alchemy pour onto my eyes. It felt like a moment of magick, and I arose in lunar light like some dark goddess. “Rest in peace, my brother,” I whispered, sighing my hot breath into the cavity of blackness. How strange that I could see that emanation of breath spill from me like some sentient thing and float into the deep darkness of the quiet tomb. What a sweet fragrance it had as it wafted from me and spilled into the hidden place.
I returned to the gaiety of my brother’s party, and when a servant offered me a glass of dark red wine, I took it and drank. Passing the crowds, I smiled at the idiots who ignored me, who knew me merely as my brother’s moody sibling. Sauntering past them, I went to the corner where stood the marvelous antique mirror. Sharing a secret smile with my reflection, I brought the glass of wine to my lips and let the warm liqueur trickle sweetly down my throat. Laughing, I hurled my glass to the floor and watched it shatter. I turned to grimace at those who stood nearest me, those frowning denizens of my brother’s insipid world. They stood before me, like so many monsters of mediocrity, whispering as they watched me. I licked my lips and tasted a remnant of the delicious wine. Mouthing drunken mirth, I clutched at the tight fabric of my gown and ripped it apart, then tore my arms free and let the top portion of my gown fall around my waist, where it hung like some discarded skin. Motioning to a servant who stepped toward me with concern playing in his eyes, I demanded wine, and when he brought me another glass I turned to study my reflection in the mirror. I breathed heavily as I watched the rise and fall of my manumitted tits, and I laughed as I baptized them with a splash of rich red wine.
A commotion went through the crowd behind me, and I watched in the mirror their reflected horror as they fled the place in terror. One figure stood
“You’re a naughty wretch, Agnes, to exile yourself from our company. Come, let my friends adore your beauty; you look fetching in that tight dress, which clings to you like second skin. Come.” His cool hand touched my arm.
“I’m in need of air. I’ll join you anon.” I looked up at the yellow moon and my flesh chilled at how macabre that sphere looked, casting its morbid light on the dismal place wherein we stood. Had the atmosphere grown cooler, or was it some psychic premonition of what was to come that caused my flesh to creep? When I finally turned to gaze into my brother’s eyes, I saw within their luster a kind of craziness; and when his hands were suddenly pressing my arms against the cold surface of the mausoleum I suddenly panicked. “No,” I told him.
“Be not afraid,” he whispered. “I know you abhor the darkness. It’s such a childish fear,” he mocked. “Darkness is our friend. Here, let me lead you into this depth of blackness, and you’ll find that you have naught to fear.” I cried in pain at the tight hold of his hand around my wrist. “Come, Agnes, don’t fight me.”
“Let go of me, brother.”
“Come, it’s just a few steps down, and then you’ll stand again on solid ground. We can lay together on one of the oblong tombs that hold the remains of some long forgotten sod. Come, follow me.”
He had stepped into the shadow and was tugging my arm; yet still I resisted, and when I yanked my hand from him he tripped over his feet in trying to pull me to him. We both fell – I onto the cold hard ground, he down the rough-hewn steps into the place of darkness. Nervously, I clutched at the stiff dead grass and listened for his curses, but there was no sound, excepting the distant crying of a night-bird that pursued its prey. I looked up at the moon and winked at it, and I could feel its alchemy pour onto my eyes. It felt like a moment of magick, and I arose in lunar light like some dark goddess. “Rest in peace, my brother,” I whispered, sighing my hot breath into the cavity of blackness. How strange that I could see that emanation of breath spill from me like some sentient thing and float into the deep darkness of the quiet tomb. What a sweet fragrance it had as it wafted from me and spilled into the hidden place.
I returned to the gaiety of my brother’s party, and when a servant offered me a glass of dark red wine, I took it and drank. Passing the crowds, I smiled at the idiots who ignored me, who knew me merely as my brother’s moody sibling. Sauntering past them, I went to the corner where stood the marvelous antique mirror. Sharing a secret smile with my reflection, I brought the glass of wine to my lips and let the warm liqueur trickle sweetly down my throat. Laughing, I hurled my glass to the floor and watched it shatter. I turned to grimace at those who stood nearest me, those frowning denizens of my brother’s insipid world. They stood before me, like so many monsters of mediocrity, whispering as they watched me. I licked my lips and tasted a remnant of the delicious wine. Mouthing drunken mirth, I clutched at the tight fabric of my gown and ripped it apart, then tore my arms free and let the top portion of my gown fall around my waist, where it hung like some discarded skin. Motioning to a servant who stepped toward me with concern playing in his eyes, I demanded wine, and when he brought me another glass I turned to study my reflection in the mirror. I breathed heavily as I watched the rise and fall of my manumitted tits, and I laughed as I baptized them with a splash of rich red wine.
A commotion went through the crowd behind me, and I watched in the mirror their reflected horror as they fled the place in terror. One figure stood
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