Spirits of Knight

After our breakup, I was devastated.  I didn't sleep for months, eating little but crying a lot. I watched my face grow thin and sad, my body small and frail.  Evan did more than break my heart; he crushed my soul.  I thought about killing myself but was too afraid. If I had nothing to live for so what could I possibly hope for in death?

I moved away. I bought the house of my (our) dreams and stored just that in it.  I dreamt of a time we could have shared the decorating, though I did it alone.  I had the dream of hosting parties together and being the belle of the ball; catching Evan's eye as I flitted from guest to guest; laughing and flashing some romantic piece of jewelry or relating some silly little tale of affection between us to our jealous friends. Adoration that was palpable. 

Despair was reality.

But I persevered and made the best of my sorrowful situation.  I got a sexy new haircut and tightened up my body with exercise. I decorated my new castle and made new friends without him.  I hosted that party, buying an elegant dress that flattered my new body ~ the one he didn't want. I giggled and coyly flirted with men I wasn't interested in but enjoyed the attention nonetheless. I missed him though no one needed to know that.

The house took much of my time and I was grateful.  It taught me how to sheet rock and dry wall.  It gently coaxed me in to crown molding and plumbing.  I then became a brazen electrician, jokingly perming my hair shortly after the rewiring of my stark palace-for-one and teasing all my friends about the screwdriver in the live outlet.  My home taught me to survive and let in again, at least during the daylight.  Friends peeked in and shone through, cheering me and warming me like the furnace I had recently replaced. That's what I ended up doing; replacing my life. 

At night it was still just me and my house.  I cried to the walls and corners while it sat strong, silent.  It shifted patiently as I questioned myself, beat myself up and hated that I wasn't enough for Evan to love.  In my dreams I was soothed by gentle breezes and comforting whispers.  I would wake some nights to footsteps of a man I wished was there.  The dark played tricks on my eyes giving almost a form but when I asked or questioned, once again I was robbed.  The night swallowed it; took that form, that hope away.  Eventually, night brought the ghost to me.  For most, his memory that drifted through my halls like smoke, would prove terrifying. But for me, it was benign; just troubled sleep or panicked awakenings.  Yet, as time tocked by, I began to hear more and more; see things I know now I shouldn't have. He came closer and I realized it was he who had given me the comfort, the shoulder to cry on. He had been my knight and so that is what I called him.

He hid from me less and less, addressing me directly; seeming to enjoy my being awake.  He sought me out with gentle knocking or soft sighs.  I never really objected because I didn't want to be alone.  He was company for me.  His shadow became a fixture in the corner of my room at night; the voice often asking me if I minded he was here, if I would tell him about my life.  He in turn, spoke of the shadows and darkness; the loneliness and empty space that had become his heart and soul of the house we shared.  He told me he was grateful for my presence.  He liked what I had done with his former home.  He wished that he had known me as a person.  I laughed with him and said the same.  His shadow moved closer to my bed.  I did not object.  We spoke every night and he waited for me to come home to him.  I learned to be a night owl for Knight, comforted by his featureless shadow.  We shared heartbreak.  His true love had died tragically, suddenly, leaving him alone in a home they were to share.  I found this ironic and fitting to my own story.  But my tangible life did not stop.  I still had friends and parties.  I went to work and by all counts I thrived in my new environment.  I left the past behind and to all who saw me, was growing.  No one would believe that I was dreaming of a time when my future was still; frozen in the walls of my ... our home.  He wanted that too.  Rarely did he speak directly of my death or that he wanted it.  But we both knew and understood.  

Then one summer night my doorbell rang.  It was Evan.  He had been searching for me;  not too hard since I was only a few miles away from our old haunts.  His life had crashed.  His dreams had broken and he needed what he never realized I had brought him.  He wanted me back.  

I let him in, leading him to the Redgrave chair near the fireplace where I had spent countless hours evilly plotting his life's end or disastrous wreck. He confessed sadness and even shed a few tears.  I brought wine and sat quietly, listening while he plotted what he thought we could accomplish together in a new and happy, love drenched life together; here in our dream home.  Of course, I was elated, overjoyed and felt the rush of love crawl over me like a forest fire. I was also leery and cautious.  I did not want to give in right away or even express desire to see him again. I sat and watched; listening, pulling away when he reached for me.  He definitely had something to prove.  But for the first time, there was hope.  He shared the same expectations of glamorous parties and all the while I watched the shadow behind him grow and darken. I had always heard that jealousy was a green eyed monster but this is untrue. 

My knight and filmy confidant did not revel in the promising new beginning and that was the first night I was ever afraid in our home.  The groaning and slamming of the doors was endless.  The upper floor windows opened and drained the house of warmth, comfort.  He refused to take his place near me or speak.  Instead, there was angry growling and snarls of harm.  My favorite knick-knacks were toppled and sleep was forbidden.  For days this went on.  I couldn't wait to go to work, often times leaving early so I could rest peacefully in my car in the dark empty lot for just a few moments.

The night I invited Evan to dinner ... such a regret. He looked too handsome for words and fit too easily in to my heart and arms.  He brought my favorite wine and politely complimented almost everything I did.  He remembered things that we had done together; trips we had taken; oh he played it all very well.  I tried to ignore the slamming upstairs and the angry stomping of my knight's disapproval.  I worked around his shorting out of my stove with take out from a favorite place and dismissed his tantrum of cutting the lights with candles.  Evan found it romantic and used the opportunity to get closer.  I did not push him away. I was eager to feel his lips again and taste the sweetness of his mouth.  I trembled as he held me, caressing my body through my clothes. I shivered remembering what we could be together.  I wanted this; life, touch, love. 

 I remember the wind picking up and blowing out the candles.  I remember the shadows becoming darker and shifting.  I guess maybe I knew, but I denied it.  The growl came from the corner and although I could not see perfectly, I knew he was there; my knight.  I broke from Evan and went to the corner, angry. I was prepared to scold him like a child and tell him to go.  I was going to cleanse this house and begin again. He was about to be dismissed.  I was going to live my life. With Evan.

When I got to him, there was a glow; a soft shimmer.  The moon was the only light I had to see by.  I realized my knight had taken form.  He stood before me; sort of.  His skin was slick and damp but radiated a heat.  His limbs were gangly and knobby, bending just a little too far in the other direction.  His eyes were milky though they had once been green.  Hair was once white and there were patches of it left but most had been replaced by a peeling crusted fungus.  The mouth was small and thin holding three or four rows of tiny needle like teeth.  It spun and glared at me,  jaw dropping in a yawl of gooey decay and fury. It swiped at me and I felt my skin slice under my blouse.  warmth began to trail across my chest.  It lunged at Evan with a shriek.

Evan never saw it coming.  Quickly it leapt on him, tossing him casually to the floor.  Perched on its spindly strong legs it pulled Evan's head up by the throat and with one slice separated his face from his skull.  It began to stab at Evan viciously; whimpering and spitting with malice as I began to smell sweat and copper.  I threw up and staggered to my future.  Knight reared his head and stopped me with one look.  He stood and placed the mask on his dead, hopeful face.  He stepped toward me and held out his hand, inviting me back in to his; our "life." 

My future was settled. My heart and hope shattered.  I took Knight's "hand" and stepped into my dark, still forever. Knight made my death physically painless.

People came and cleaned up what remained of my life; threw most of it away.  Our palace stood empty for a long time.  We wandered through its empty rooms, rarely speaking, regret and death now in our way.  When the new family came, I was overjoyed, seeing a family, children.  I hovered in the shadows for a glimpse in to life again.  Knight watched them from afar, suspicious and envious of my attention to them.  He promised to leave them alone if I stayed on the outside. This was difficult since  I was happier to be with them. Their children discovered me first. I hid from them as much as I could but they were too sensitive. They weren't afraid  and enjoying our game of hide and seek. They talked to me, sharing even the smallest things with me.  They called me by my name after researching my tragic death. I am welcome they say. They call me their friendly little spirit.  I wish it were true. Enjoying the time with them makes Knight ... malicious and mischievously. I have tried to warn them. I try to stay away. We don't need any more.

Spirits of Knight.



I sat down to write this a dozen times today. I finally got the time to do it.  I like it, though it is actually more than one story smashed together. I find the lack of dialogue makes it a little long. It could use the breaking up of some communication: maybe she and Knight could have spoken... eh. It's here and overall, I'm happy.

I hope you had a great week. I know this is a busy time for all of us but let's try to get together again soon.  I want to thank my newest visitors for their kind words and look forward to calling them friends. I am glad you stopped by and have enjoyed my work. And for those of you who come over and hang out regularly, I enjoy our time together.

Until next time...Thank you.