Tombstone

A short story of two lovers, living an everyday Gothic life, but one lover shows a disturbing twist in the meaning of "love"...

          I sat at the base of the rusted cemetery gates. My fingers polishing faint, indiscrete creases; lips stroke keys of black iron. I watch the willows coil in the crisp air. The romances of my visions lust for hell and fire ablaze; once brilliant and now insignificant, tarnished, marble tombstones fracture at the spine down to rotted root. The twisted narrowing of my vertebra hunches my thoughts. My thoughts for him were reserved for him only, and how perfect he’d be. I envy and itch to see how utterly, beautifully perfect he would seem.

            I saw beauty in Severin’s eyes each moment I gazed at him. Deep oceanic waves lay hidden in his irises; the azure, calming tint swelled unto his cornea. Severin was the most astounding creature on earth. He was the purest and most flawless of men in every way possible. The most tendered heart folded in his chest under his lapel, unblemished.

            Severin and I convened at the Hellenkist Cemetery. Only he and I sat pondering among the stones, our values and merged ties of spirituality. He took my pale hand gently as if it were parchment and pressed it to his lips. As he opened his unwary mouth to greet me, the most exquisite of moths flew from the aperture to brush my face; a powdery caress on my cheek. Tears of blood fell from the sky, lightly hitting the tips of their wings. Quietly, their cries unheard, the moths collapsed to a lamenting, decrepit demise… Severin took his hand away from my cheekbone, kissed my eyelids, and brushed fluent pieces of black hair out of my face…

            She dressed in vintages and blacks suited for her. Her fingers clasped lustrous, metal rings. Her hair was a coarse black color, eloquently blanketing her thin neck. Her eyes held specks of parable, shallow grays, and deep waters. The adorn visage of her laces and net covered her shoulders.

            “Lilith”, he spoke softly, “Do you enjoy yourself here, among the dead and dampened crypts? Are you fond of the shadowy ruins of the forgotten, left here with memories laid to rest?”

“I am…Severin." She replied mournfully. “There is splendor in this sadly overlooked graveyard.”

 “Why, of course there is, my dear. ‘Beauty is held only in the eye of the beholder’. Beauty will forever remain where you go.” Severin smiled, and took her hand in his palm. “In this light, your skin mirrors porcelain, my beauty… I devote you.”

Lilith took his hand and swept it across her clavicle to her collarbone. “I love you, Severin. I give an oath of my soul that we will never be apart. We… will be evermore.” She said, cleverly uncanny.

            The two spoke for hours, admiring the withered scenery. Severin spoke to his love with poems and sonnets, as if a versifier. The lovers could only intently gape into each other’s hearts until the sun burnt out at the horizon of the nearby Evaíllo castle. They exited through the cemetery path, enveloping them in the lowering fog. They walked in their dusty combat boots far to reach her house where Severin would say his adieus. Severin and Lilith sauntered miles to arrive at the creaking steps of her wooden, Victorian house. Black wax candles aligned the mossy stairs to the French, coppice doors. Severin lead her up the festering rungs, seemingly never endless. He held her in an ardor way before letting her fade into the house. The light tongues of passion withdrew to an end and Severin, clothed in black, absconded from her hip and disappeared into the obscure darkness of the night.

            Lilith gathered her thoughts and ambled herself to draw a long, tepid bath in the powder room. She twisted the corroded glass knob, pervading water from its muzzle. She watched the steam collect. Slowly taking off every piece of intricate jewel, and ring, she glared emotionless at the reflection she saw of herself in the mirror. Lilith leisurely sank into the hush water of her Griffe víctorien tub. She submerged herself in that porcelain china bathtub every night, ruminating thoughts in her mind. Cold, sinister hands constantly groped her contemplation while she soaked away the dirt and soot of her day.

            Lilith awoke to the black, satin sheets beneath her, and her body cool from the overnight chill. Lilith left her bedside and climbed, yet again, into a newly drawn, sultry bath. She voluntarily slithered her body under, immersing herself in the water. Silence overwhelmed as she choked. As her pulse almost ceased, she violently brought herself out of the water, heaving across the bath’s glass arm. She leaned over this tub for several hours and remained stagnant in the bitter cold.

            Severin strode down the lonely pavements to Lilith’s. His semi-long, black hair flew freely in his eyes and ruffled through the gentle zephyr of the air. He wore his boots as usual and his black, snug fitting, cotton slacks. Severin held the sapphire crystal his love gave to him, a long time back, around his neck and a soapstone charm to his wrist. He knew his lovely would be patient for his arrival. She would embrace his arms and admire his aroma. Lilith would lay by him, and she would stroke his hair while he kissed her forehead. He knew… it would be perfect.

            The doorbell chimed. Severin’s marble figure stood behind the doors. Lilith dressed in her attire and pleasantly answered the door. They sat together, pillowing the crude, polyester couch. A saga of silent embraces endured. His rich, creamy, ceramic looking skin was as soft as velvet. Lilith took the stone hands that covered her and lead them from the couch to hallways through the manor. She eventually led to a solid door to the earthy vaults and tunnels below the house, centuries old. They entered to mildew and musky air, focusing on the gleam of pre-lit candles. The bright waxy tips revealed a path through the dungeons, darkening in depth. Lilith flicked a razor from her pocket.

“What is that?” he asked cautiously. “Why…wha…”

“Don’t say it Severin. Look at my wrists,” she replied. “…Nothing there. You know I don’t mutilate to that extent anymore.”

“How am I to know? Why do you carry it with you if you don’t even employ it?”

“I was only getting rid of it…” she alleged.

            Lilith cast the razor from her hand to somewhere in the sediment. She didn’t need it. Not for now.  Appendages were to be severed later.

Severin elevated his arm to meet her bearing shoulder. They repeatedly passed the decaying remnants of deceased animal corpses, and piling bone fragments; candle light allowing the sight. There were alters of the perished and tortured obscured in a dew pond of oleander. Lilith remained tacit. The walls radiated musk and blackened mold…

I licked my lips. Severin and I have been wondering down these vaults for some time now; we’re almost near. He followed as I almost hesitantly halted myself in front of a rotted door. I flashed a frail, wax candle to reveal the eerie words engraved on the door; “Mortar’s Room”. We finally arrived…

            Lilith rattled the wood slightly. She struck the door with a sudden, violent push, heaving herself through it. She fell into the debris, shadowing herself in the dark. She tightly sealed her lips.

“Lilith! What are we doing down here?” Severin bemoaned. “Where are you…?”

Not a sound

She clenched something in her palm.

“Lilith! Please answer me my dear.”

The room filled with utter silence; he could hear the bats in the tunnels hush themselves.

*Creak*

            There was a bleak, threatening tone betwixt the walls. The ever so frequent creaks began to haunt his sanity.

“Lilith!”

Severin felt cold, bone fingers grip his.

He jolted in a clamoring anxiety.

“Severin, I am here” she said as she pulled him beside her. “Now, I brought you down here to…enhance my visions.”

“What do you mean, eh…” cutting him off, scalpel in hand, she wrenched the blade in his throat. She minced and gashed.

Blood streamed; his mouth spouting a horrid, marvelous red. Severin fell rigid to the ground. He stared in disbelief.

            Lilith struck a match and intently watched the smoke ribbon infinitely to the air. She lit a black candle to the walls for each corner of his limb, including his head. This formed a glowing pentagram. A dimple in her cheek arose and settled at the curvature of her mouth. She sat on the gravel, and held Severin’s head in her lap. She stroked his soft hair ever so lightly, and she caressed his ashen cheeks. He held still and detained his painful weep. Lilith began to tongue his wounds, and morbidly taste the gore. She left his neck and kissed his elegant lips.

A glass tear, mirroring empty despair, fell from Severin’s eye. Anguish and sorrow filled his lungs and lunged at the depth of his core. He closed his eyes as he garroted. The blood leached and trickled from his mouth as he wept. He wept for his love, for his vision darkened and his mind fell into free fall. Anticipating; plummeting… he hit the bottom of the earth.

Severin looked up. His face was still. His ligaments resembled statue. A flask had been hidden in her pocket.  She unfastened the cork and drained velvet from his skin. The flask became full; she sealed it and fastened the pendant around her collar. Lilith dragged Severin’s corpse on the terrain. She finally stood the body up and grimly mounted his limbs against the cool partition. His blood began to pool down his cadaver and around his feet.

Lilith stood at the wall. She saw the glint of a dagger and grimaced to herself. She veered behind her and stared. She saw nothing but a volatile monster in the mirror.

Her reflection…  

Lilith clutched and amused herself with the crested dagger. She held it up to her face; she wedged it through her cheek. Drawing the blade out sadistically, engrossing her hysterically. This time she gave to her knees, she looked into her own eyes and saw passion in their glass finish.

            She positioned the knife… She took one last look at Severin, then her reflection…

She cleaved through her chest.

Posturing her hands, she grasped the dagger and violently and tore it from the seam. Her face took awe. Crimson gauged from her orifice. The girl fell to her spine; the boy lay diagonal to her.

Lilith ceased… as the blood filmed over her mouth.

The warmth of the candles subsided. The oil of the flame disintegrated. The shadow of the mortuary lay in tomb and secret.

The lovers forever slumber under the tombstones of the cemetery. 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

‘Beauty is held only in the eye of the beholder’. Beauty will forever remain where you go.”
A sad and beautiful tale of love. I like the location and the artwork. I like the way you led the reader into the reading of poetry to the suicide leading to unity of two souls. No weakness in the outstanding story. You held my attention till the last word.
Coyote

[Divenita Er]

Wow. I am new here and joined this group and this is what i get to read. It's so detailed and very well put.

Thanks for this

[♥ Kinnixk]

Sometimes you wrote it in different points of view but somehow it fits well with this. You truly have a talent for writing. Great job :)

100/100

[khalid]

that is very sweet...you have written it as a paragraph shape while it is a nice long poem