She Walks in Shadows(62)

On the other hand, don’t. That’s what broke Bill. Trying to define.

I didn’t define. I let the presence wash over me, pull me out to sea like a riptide. Never fight a riptide.

I was in awe.

The shadows filled me and they smiled.

And my feet were still on shore.

That was when Bill came rushing out of the tunnel, knife in hand, screaming the name for something he could not understand.

I held up my hand. On my face was a smile that felt cruel and not my own.

“You shame her,” my voice said. “She will not answer you.”

I said she only because I knew that was all Bill would recognize.

His knife came down on air. I was already behind the rocks, hiding, shivering. Thinking I should go to him, help him, save him, even though he would probably kill me. Even though I had already run.

You know better.

Why, yes, my lord, my lady. I do. But it hurt so much to leave him. Hurt me then; hurts me now.

Yes. Tender. Cruel.

Necessary.

Even now, the shadow is a whisper in my soul.



I think I can turn out the lights in my room if I concentrate hard enough.

The lights go out.

Light has its uses, but I prefer the dark.

In the darkness, lights are dancing, ghostlights in the shape of women and of men. They dance together, men with men, women with women, in ways I do not recognize, in ways that would shame me if I still cared about shame.

I do not understand, but then I see. This is the future, a ghost future, a future that still may not be.

My savior is lonely, trapped here in this well-defined world. She misses her children. He longs for his throne.

Tonight, the voice inside me says and I understand.



That afternoon, the psychiatrist does not come. It is the man in the blue suit instead, as though I cannot tell the difference.

“Under what grounds are you keeping me here?” I ask.

“You’re under observation,” he says.

“And what have you observed?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“Nothing. You’ve seen nothing.”

“You’d like me to believe that.”

“My parents will be looking for me.”

“Your parents,” he says, not bothering to hide his smirk, “are distraught. You wandered away from your campus with little more than a note. It is thought that your paramour persuaded his advisor to join him in a search for you, a search which seems to have gone tragically awry. It is suspected that the pressures of your studies proved too much.” He leans forward. “They fear your body will never be found.”

I lean back. “Thank you. Now I know where I stand. How long do you intend to keep me here?”

“As long as it takes for you to show your true colors.”

“You think I killed him.”

“No. We know what killed your companions. What we don’t know — what we seek to understand — is why she decided to let you live.”

I told you. All they understand is she.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He stands. “Then we’ll just have to wait until you do.”

And he leaves me in that room without another word, without looking back, leaves me there until an orderly looks inside and notices me and decides to bring me back to my room.



This world is changing, my savior wants me to know. Like a fruit at the end of summer, it is about to split open and disperse what has been hidden in its heart. Tonight, when I close my eyes, I see a naked woman covered in blood singing in a cathedral and all the men in all their suits are afraid. Is this real? It comes from so very far away.

Life and creation take infinite forms, give birth to infinite young. Some people this breaks, this terrifies. Like my lover, like the professor. For me, it is only awe.

I hope you find this, Doctor (I hope you are a Doctor). I hope you find this and walk away, tell the man in the blue suit to go to hell. There is a child who dreams of fire and the whole world is about to burn.

The doors are unlocked. Soon, I will walk through these sleeping corridors and out the front door. Soon, I will change my name, my being. I will indeed be, as my captor claimed, a body never found. The man in the blue suit will ask people if someone passed this way, but nobody will be sure if what they saw was a man or a woman, a boy or a girl.

In time, I will let my parents know that I am okay. By then, it will be too late for him and his kind, even if he does not know it.

I’ll be honest: I don’t know what to think of this world my savior is showing me. It is full of blood and fire and death and suffering. It is full of people who have no interest in being the children of an inconceivable god. They do not deserve this. They deserve better.

But maybe there is nothing better to be had.

I want to think that we will meet again, Doctor. I want to believe that when I lose my footing in this world, I will sit in front of you again. You will be tasked with putting me in a category, and I will laugh and tell you that categories are useless.

Will you listen? Will you believe me? I want to believe you will.

I want to believe you’ll see this letter.

But there’s only one way to find out.

It’s time to go.





THE CYPRESS GOD