SILK

Pulling back the comforter, she slid between the cool white sheets. A sigh escaped her lips as her head sank back into the cradling embrace of her pillow. Her tired, burning eyes closed and welcomed the peaceful darkness beneath her lids. Her breathing deepened. Her heartbeat slowed.

She was standing on a cold, smooth floor. She knew it was made of stone without knowing how she knew. She didn't look down to make sure...she wouldn't have been able to tell anyway. It was too dark; inky blackness surrounded her on all sides. She swept her eyes left, right, not bothering to turn her head. She could see nothing. After what could have been a few seconds or a few days of standing in that silent darkness, she finally noticed, off to her right, a faint, flickering yellow glow. Slowly she turned, her eyes focusing on three distant candles, mounted in a silver candelabrum. She drifted toward them, drawn by their warm and welcoming light. Their tiny orange flames danced in the blackness. Rivulets of liquid wax ran down the candles' smooth red sides, glistening wetly beneath the glimmering tongues of fire.

Movement on her left caught her attention. She stopped and turned toward it, peering intently into the darkness. She couldn't see anything there. Feeling uneasy, she took a step backward, unconsciously raising one hand to her heart. Her palm encountered heavy, scratchy material. She looked down in surprise but could see nothing except the pale gray shape that must be her hand. There was a strange heaviness against her neck and shoulders. She raised her other hand, tracing a high collar fastened at her throat. Trailing her fingers down over the cool metal clasp, she found the edge of the material and slid her thumb beneath it. Rubbing the fabric between her thumb and index finger, she found that while the outside was slightly rough, the lining was soft and smooth, almost slippery. She swayed forward, then backward, feeling silky material brush against her legs, her knees, the tops of her bare feet. Slowly the implications sank in. She was completely enveloped in a long heavy cloak...but she was wearing nothing else.

Dropping her arms with a gasp, she grabbed the edges of the cloak and wrapped her arms around her waist, pulling the fabric closely against her. Her left arm pressed tightly against her abdomen and the coarse outer layer of the cloak scratched against the inside of her right arm, which was crossed protectively over her stomach. With each breath she took, the silk lining shifted against her chest, her back, the backs of her arms. Movement on the edge of her vision again drew her attention. Jerking her head up, she curled her fingers into even tighter fists around the edges of the cloak and stepped forward cautiously, her eyes flicking back and forth, trying to penetrate the blackness before her.

A pale circle emerged from the gloom, slowly growing larger. Her eyes widened and sudden fear caused her heart to race. Something was in here with her, there was no longer any doubt of that! And it was moving toward her. She backed away, the material of the cloak whispering against the floor, the lining caressing the backs of her knees, her calves, and her ankles with each step she took. Her retreat lasted only a few steps; a matrix of thick iron bars pressed against her back, halting her progress. She slid to her left, away from the distant candles, away from the light...trying to find a way to pass through the bars behind her and avoid the notice of whatever was approaching. But instead of escaping into darkness as she'd hoped, the further she moved from the wavering flames, the more the light around her seemed to increase.

Pausing, she glanced down. A hazy blue glow was emanating from the stone floor, growing brighter as she watched. It was as if molecules of light were oozing from the ground, pushing up through the stone to pool around her feet. The light increased for a moment, then abruptly dimmed, leaving her surrounded by blue-tinted shadows. Looking back up, she saw that the mysterious shape was still advancing. The strange blue lighting was doing peculiar things to her senses. It played tricks with her eyes, almost convincing her that she was deep underwater, floating in the cold black wetness of the sea. She half-imagined that the pale shape was an exotic fish, leisurely swimming toward her, disturbing the blackness with powerful strokes of its tail. But she wasn't underwater. And she wasn't safe. It had seen her. She knew it was now useless to run. Her heart thudding dully against her ribs, apprehension tightening her throat, she waited for it to reach her. The unknown entity approached her silently....the pale oval finally resolving into a white face...with black bottomless circles where the eyes should be. Squeezing her arms against her stomach, she shrank back, trying to mold herself against the bars behind her, feeling them pressing against her shoulders, her lower back, the backs of her thighs. She shook her head in short, quick jerks - no, no, no - keeping her eyes fixed on the expressionless face looming over her. Movement in the darkness...her eyes flew downward....saw an arm lift, a thin pale hand approach her face. She watched it near her eyes with a mixture of dread and fascination, holding her breath, fearing what it might do. It halted a few inches from her forehead, hesitated for a moment, then slowly caressed the air beside her left cheek. A sudden thrill shot through her, starting at the base of her spine and racing up her vertebrae, spreading across her shoulders, raising the hair on her scalp and the backs of her arms. Her entire body shivered. Sagging against the bars for a moment, she let a long silent sigh of relief escape her lips. She knew who this was.

Straightening, she stared into the black eyeholes of the mask and slowly nodded - yes. Oh yes. How could I not have known it was you? He stood before her silently, neither moving forward nor away. His hand had fallen from her sight and disappeared into the darkness that was a part of him. Beneath the white mask, his body was blackness - perfect midnight blackness - washed by the icy blue light of stars. She waited in silence, breathless from having him so close, from not knowing what he wanted, what he would do. Slowly he raised his arm. His pale hand again ascended, hovering over her forehead. The fingers bent, fingertips gently brushing her skin..... she held her breath as he trailed his fingers down the side of her face - barely touching her - marking a feathery trail across her temple, down her cheek, along her jaw. His fingers rested beneath her chin for a moment, then he again raised his hand to her forehead. She shut her eyes as he traced two delicate lines down her brow, pausing over her sensitve eyelids, which fluttered beneath the pads of his fingers, then sliding downward to her cheekbones. His touch lingered for another moment, then lifted, breaking contact. She opened her eyes languidly when his fingertips left her skin. He was so close, his face only a foot away from hers. If she stepped forward - just one step - her crossed arms would touch him. She wanted to touch him...she wanted him to touch her again.... As she shifted her weight slightly, the cloak brushed against the small of her back, reminding her of what she was - or rather, was not - wearing. She tensed, feeling an unreasonable, panicky nervousness clutch at her throat.

He lifted his left arm and leaned forward. She shrank back a few inches, her arms tightening across her stomach, fingernails digging into the edges of the cloak...but he was not reaching for her. She watched his hand move past her to the bars of the portcullis. His long pale fingers curled around the crosspiece next to her shoulder, slowly sliding toward her along the length of iron. One of the upright bars finally stopped his movement, halting his hand mere inches from her arm. The edge of his palm pressed against the bar but he did not move his hand any closer. His fingers slowly, deliberately wrapped around the crosspiece, tightening into a fist. She stared, captivated by the controlled power of his movement. He was so strong... Her breathing irregularly quick, she turned her head to face him. The knuckles of his right hand brushed against her jaw as she turned, tilting her head up and back. His fingers gently curved around her chin, and he raised his thumb to touch the corner of her mouth. She froze, not daring to breath, as his thumb lightly inched its way across her lower lip. It finally slid from her mouth, tracing a weightless line down the side of her chin. She eventually realized that she needed oxygen. Cautiously, she breathed in; a slow, shuddering gasp for air.

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