Eternally Souled

Eternally Souled

A Story by JelliFyshKissUs

Domenic and Lilou

“Pray with me, Lilou,” he whispers, his tone a delectable morsel of persuasion.
I revel in the sound as it travels on the invisible path of the breeze and warms my ears. It doesn’t matter that it isn’t real--that it is the recreation of an overly imaginative brain and an obsessed heart. What matters is that I could hear it again, hear it the way I used to, the way it is meant to be heard.
I have missed it something terrible. Missed the way it streamed from his lips--a winding river of euphony. And I miss the way his name flows from mine.
Such an enchanting name. 
I could continue saying it for the duration of my existence and never satiate the yearning that I have for. All because of that last syllable. It causes my tongue to cling to the back of my mouth--as if it feels the atmosphere is not worthy of its glorious sound. But then, without warning, a spurt of air forces its way through the blockade to create that soft-yet-sharp sound: 
My hive of a heart swarms with hyperactive bees, as it always does when I think of that name. There will never be another like it. The only name to ever come close was my own, when his tongue flicked off his teeth to pronounce it.
Domenic & Lilou.
The names themselves are perfect together, their own eternal bond, etched into the blade of our cake server. The brilliant steel around the dark, sinuous letters pierces my retina, but I continue to observe the engraving.
Scarlett recompense glazes a portion of the blade below, and the moon’s beaming eye creates a glare that makes it impossible to read the inscribed date beneath. But this day in time will forever be stored in the bank of my brain:

October 5, 2009.

The day our names became one. And the day they were torn asunder. Torn asunder by another name. A name that did not belong. A name that rolled off his tongue with just as much ease as my own.
I tighten my grip on the handle of the cake server, hoping the painful grasp will distract me from the heat building inside my chest.
I gnash my teeth in annoyance.
Such a simple, stupid name. The second syllable makes you mash your lips together in an attempt to stifle the utterance of the last syllable:
I scoff.
Who could love such a name?
Domenic, that’s who!
There was nothing within that name that made it worth the occupancy of his lungs, but it lived there anyway, even on this very special day of ours, reborn with every inhalation.
I had no choice but to put a stop to it, stop the lungs that forever expanded with a resuscitation of that horrendous name, then compressed to send it out into the world and torment my ears. 
I mop the crimson gloss away from the inscription, trapping the spirit of his lungs within the grooves of my thumb. Tiny, red vessels compacted with partials of that idiotic name tingle against my skin.
I quickly smudge them against my Venetian gown, trying to squish the last bit of energy out of them. A vision of mangled, muddy-red A’s, M’s, and D’s twitched with life atop my dress. 
Why won’t that name just die?

"Pray with me, Lilou."
His voice returns, a bit clearer than before. It rushes through my ear and descends toward my heart, startling me. 
My eyes twitch upward. His body, a blurred backdrop of my vision, suddenly comes into focus. He lay peacefully atop the bed of grass, embellished by a gray tuxedo. Still, I can’t help but feel ill at ease. I clutch the server with fretful anticipation, kneeling at his side as I examine him closely.
I take in his smoggy, brown irises first; and a part of me pines for them to gaze back--the way they used to. But these are different eyes, eyes that adore Amanda. And they stare beyond me, beyond our surroundings, trapped in a world I am no part of. Probably a world where her name lives in infamy.
I shift to his lips, watching for even the most minute twitch of a muscle. But they’re as still as stone, blood retreating and carrying away their coral pigment. They have not spoken my name, not since I’d removed hers from them. And his pale tongue will never flick to pronounce my name again.
Nothing lives on his face, just white-washed shades of the colors I’d once loved, with features proclaiming what I have always known: that he is devoid of emotions for me.

Still, I cling to a glimmer of hope.
Maybe the call came from his lungs. One final attempt to spurt the name that should have filled them.
I lower my gaze to his torso. The satin material lining the interior of his jacket and girding his hips fill my periphery. And as he floats atop a silvery lake of fabric, I focus in on the two craters below his ribcage. 
I had done everything I could to remove that odious name from dwelling inside him. And instead, I’d created lagoons brimming with it. Using the pointed tip of the server, I search within the pools of scarlet letters, desperate to find initials that belong to me. But none burble forth during my diligent inspection.
My vision becomes distorted by a barrage of tears, and my throat constricts in misery, but I continue raking through the glistening nest of letters. I can’t stop; my hand is fanatic, determined to find initials that will becalm my agitated heart. 

Lilou, pray with me.”
The croon caresses the nape of my neck in the form of a balmy breeze, and I quail. My hand freezes, blade of the server submerged in the red pond of his diaphragm, and my breathing becomes nothing more than rapid gasps.
Certain the voice emerged from someone behind and not the carcass before me, I make a cautious swivel of my head. A scintillating hand and forearm come into view, and my muscles lock in ambivalence. 
It is a beautiful hand, a more glorious version of the one I have been so fond of. But it cannot be real. Because, if it was real, it wouldn’t have extended toward me. For that hand loved her and only her. It only pretended to love me…
…didn’t it?
Oh, but it’s just too exquisite to ignore, beckoning me with its smooth covering. The backs of those lengthy fingers cloaked in golden web of silk. Muscles of the forearm wrapped in the same silken threads. Even the palm is loosely blanketed with a lighter hue of the divinely woven fibers. 
And though the illumination beams down upon it with great interest, the limb seems to glow with a brightness more powerful than the one above us. The muscles beneath produce their own sun that sprays through the infinitesimal holes of the fabric clothing them. 
I cannot remember my hand relinquishing the server, only the tremors as it elevates toward the vibrant palm. My fingers settle upon what feel like a bountiful mound of feathers, and I sigh with relief.
It is so comfy, so plush, so…
Warmth intensifies as the hand closes around mine and pulls aggressively. It hurts--I think. A sore socket and achy elbow billow in the fog of my memory. But whatever immediate pain I feel is superseded by immense euphoria--an emotion that fills my chest the moment it smacks into another. 
My torso embraces the uneven terrain forming a chest and abdomen. It is just as radiant as the limb that has forced me there. Sinewy arms coil around me, swaddling my body in heat. Natural dew forms on my skin, collecting and trickling down my spine. I shiver, more from the silky touch than the actual droplets. With no wind able to break through the balmy barrier, the trickles lack their cooling effect. 

The brush of heat against my face sets my ogling eyes in motion. They rise until they find a face--his face.
I long to say it aloud and feel my tongue cling to back of my mouth once again, but the rising heat attacks my throat as I inhale. 
His sharp features kindle with that same resplendent glow as the rest of him. But his eyes do not. 
Calling them eyes doesn’t seem correct. There are no white, vein-filled globes, no chocolate irises, just two overwhelming pupils. And they dominate the core of his face with an eerie blackness. 
They hold my eyes captive, doing what pupils are meant to do--absorb. What exactly they are absorbing I am not sure of, but I felt the difference. Blood simmers as it flows through my veins, poaching the heart that pumps fervently. And my temperature grows feverish.
Still at the mercy of his abysmal sockets, I watch as he brings his coral lips to mine. Our mouths fuse together, and the touch is so soft, so sweet, so…
Nevertheless, I am elated, and still desire his fresh scent to accompany the experience. I inhale with great expectation, and my mouth and throat are set ablaze by the fiery taste of cinnamon and cayenne pepper. The smell is so strong...and so wrong, but I don’t care. He is kissing me with a passion he has never displayed before, and nothing will keep me from basking in it.

His mouth mumbles against mine. “Pray with me, Lilou.”

The flick of his tongue on my lips makes my vision grow foggy. Yet I take this cloudy moment to do that which I have been commanded.
Dear God, thank you for giving me my Domenic back. Thank you for helping him realize that he loves me, loves my name, and not the money that comes with it. Thank you for making him fall for me during his attempt to deceive. And thank you, Father, for ridding his lungs of the traitorous name that once filled them.
His mouth presses harder, white-hot coals of enamel pressed against my lips; and his arms squeeze with so much fervor that I cannot breathe. It is excruciating--but not nearly as excruciating as the sound. An unending hiss fills the space between my ears. My skull distends like a balloon, overwhelmed by the pressure as the sound intensifies and his skin erodes exposed regions of my own.
I think of wriggling free, of screaming for him to release me, but the black holes in his face absorb every unwelcome thought that surfaces in my brain. 
His scorching grasp tightens with every new idea he takes away from me. His muscles begin to quiver and wisps of vapor create a hazy aura around his lean frame. 
The heat rises to a blistering state, inside and outside my body. Blood surges through my veins at boiling point, rushing tiny bubbles packed with searing heat in and out of my heart. 
Wails of agony stream through crevasses of my brain, each one engulfing the one before it, filling my cranium with a deluge of anguish. My bones rattle, overwhelmed by it all.

“Lilou, no,” he grunts, obviously exasperated by something I was doing. “You must not resist. You must pay with me.”
His searing arms and teeth press further while the heat inside me boils away the mental cry. The vaporous remains flow into the cavernous sockets overpowering me. Now no longer consumed with agonizing thoughts, I find myself disturbed by what I might have heard. It sounded as if he said that I must pay with him. 
But maybe that was wrong. Maybe I was just so distracted by the grueling pain that my ears couldn’t pick up the right enunciation. Yet, even as I wish for opposite, I know the sufferings I’ve just been through are not the actions of a man asking me to pray. They are the actions of a man who desires that I pay
His black holes continue heating my insides, and I suddenly understand what they are doing to me: removing my thoughts, boiling and burning me internally, taking my…my…my…
“Yes, Lilou,” he coaxes, in such a pleasant tone.
His embrace loosens slightly, and his head slowly retracts from me. The corner of his blazing, coral mouth extends to a grin. And for this moment only I can think clearly. He has stopped removing my thoughts--removing my…
His grin stretches further.
my soul!
“Yes, Lilou.”
No, I reply internally, and his grin dissipates.
His silky brows congregate in bewilderment, and his sockets narrow. “You must pay with me, Lilou.”
But I squirm defiantly, not willing to relinquish life to spend all eternity with this semblance of the name I loved like no other.
He seals me in another painful grip again, and my eyes descend into the fire-fringed abysses of his face. 
My brain commands me to fight, to save it from obliteration. I do as I am told, struggling to wrench free of his grasp. 
His nostrils flare as he yells, “Pay with me!” 
Fiery winds blast my face, but I continue to fight for spirit that belongs to me. My weak resolve is no match, however, for his powerful vortex. And as he sucks up the last bit of intelligence within my brain, my body suffers spasmodic twitches. 
I can no longer move of my own volition. The desire to flee is lost. And a yearning to dwell with him burns within me insatiably--within my heart. This is the feeling I know and love. This is the reason for removing that horrific name from his lungs. Because I burn for him, burn for him with a blaze that is untamable.

His sockets softened as he breathes, “Pay with me, Lilou. 

Not even a spark of an inclination to say no flickers in me. My heart yearns to follow him wherever he goes, as long as he wants me there.
My mouth parts, hot air flows from my throat as I respond, “I will pay with you,” and a sudden, sharp sting pierces my back, then another. The severe pangs travel up my vertebrae, making me stifle a gasp. 
My legs grow numb, and the sturdy arms now keeping me standing release me. I fall to the cool, wet ground below, eyes staring at the soiled hem of a dress I’d picked out--a bridesmaid dress. My throat wheezes as her name seeps from my lips in the form of a soft whisper:
The cake server she holds falls and stabs the earth inches from my face, covered with scarlet letters from my body. The hem of the dress twirls as she wheels around, then falls in layers as she kneels over my husband’s body, screaming his name into the air manically.
She turns to me, blonde hair wafting across her face. Her blue eyes tighten and brows lower in anger as she yells obscenities at me, names as stupid as her own. 
A dim smile of satisfaction forms on my face. She is devastated, just as I had been to find her living within his lungs. She knows that he belongs to her no more. She regrets her part in their deceitful plan. But it will do her no good. He will always belong to me now, and I to him. 
Blades of grass ignite and flame like wicks of candles, snagging the roots of trees nearby. They race up the bark, desperate to dance atop the branches. And as my eyes project moments of my life within the topaz fires, I hear my husbands voice blaze in my ear.
“Come, pay with me, Lilou.”
I take my last breaths, smiling and staring at the inscription in the center of the blood spattered steel. It is our eternal bond, etched into the blade of our cake server.

Domenic & Lilou.

© 2012 JelliFyshKissUs

Author's Note

This is republished. If you have read it, do not feel obligated to read it again.

Please do not read into the structure and format of this short story. I know that it is not technically correct. I just wanted to structure it how I felt it should be read. Thank you!

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Creepy, American Psycho-esque obsession.

Posted 4 Years Ago

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Good God's this was... is superb. Simply wonderful

I really have'nt got the brain left to say any more. Breathtaking

I found this piece thanks to Poetic Justice through the Referal Group

Posted 7 Years Ago

Wow! This was a pleasure; I love the format, it makes it read so well. The flow the descriptions, disturbingly spot on. Guilty pleasures and the Devil takes another soul home…

Awesome Write Shawn!

I came to this piece by the referral of Poetic Justice, through the Referral Group…

Posted 7 Years Ago

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oh my giddy heart!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You my dear, have written a piece (which I have not had the pleasure to read before) which is simply the most exquisite write I have no had the pleasure to read in, well AGES!!! Your language, your mastery of the spoken word, the sumptuous, heady descriptions woven like a silken scarf that feels so wonderful and smooth! This breathtaking...and I cannot believe that it only has two f*****g reviews..their loss..favourite..completely and utterly..bravo..clever, clever girl..

Posted 7 Years Ago

obligated ! I am honored to be able to re-read this literary treasure ~ thank you
for sharing again Shawn

Posted 7 Years Ago

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5 Reviews
Shelved in 1 Library
Added on January 10, 2012
Last Updated on January 10, 2012
Tags: Uncontollable obsession, Death and the consequences there



Nashville, TN

I don't know why my brain cramps up whenever I'm asked to tell others about me. Maybe I'm not that interesting. Maybe I'm being modest. Who knows? I'm a married mother of none who is devoted to .. more..

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