The Tower

The Tower

At first there was no reason to worry. My parents got a phone call, if Jeanine was with us. Of course they called me, though they were sure she wasn’t here, but just in case. No, she wasn’t with us, they replied, which meant her parents had to go on phoning everybody she knew. I wondered why they were upset. She had only gone missing for a couple of hours and though it was not her custom, it was nothing to worry about. I actually cared little, she would show up sooner or later. But she did not… A little before midnight they phoned again, asking for me this time. It was strange that she still had not shown up and I started to worry. Though Jeanine was usually careful with people she dealt with, she could be much of a dreamer. But even then, thousands of people are dreamers and how many get lost, never to return? They asked me if I knew anything about a boyfriend or somebody else she could be with. I felt sad I couldn’t tell them anything. If she had a boyfriend, I’m sure she would have told me. I dug into my memory, looking for whatever clue I could provide them with, but I knew nothing. Nothing what could help them further. Jeanine behaved normally the last time I saw her, which was a couple of days ago. Nothing strange… Disappointed, they hung the phone. I tormented my memory as heavily as I could, but to no avail. I went to bed shortly after, confident that in the morning, she would safely be back home with some silly explanation. Still, I slept uneasy, with less confidence than I wanted.

For most, painting is the art of representing reality on cloth, paper or whatever which satisfies them. For me, that has never been satisfactory. A simple camera would do the trick much better and much more quickly. Painting is about representing what neither camera nor eye can see. Capturing the essence of something. This can be an object, scenery, a thought or even something unnamable, though that is a privilege of only the most talented of artists. Sometimes, when I paint nature, I even use little of the color green…

The day after, when I woke up, the first thing I wanted to do was phoning Jeanine’s parents to ensure she returned home but I did not dare to. If she was still away, it would be serious. But there was no need to phone them. The police phoned us instead. Jeanine had still not returned… They would send somebody over to talk to us and indeed, fewer than fifteen minutes later, a police officer in uniform arrived. Fewer than fifteen minutes, they must take her loss very seriously and then indeed there is plenty of reason to be worried. He spoke with us for over an hour, often repeating the same questions to ensure I overlooked nothing. I could tell him little he could use, but he showed no sign of disappointment. Most certainly, he had many more people to visit and was far from deprived of hope. “Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll be fine. She’s such a careful girl, she’ll show up soon!” I said. “That’s what we all hope and that’s why we’re all working on it.” the officer replied. If she just returned, this whole nightmare would be over. If she just walked in with or without some explanation…

I cannot describe what I’m looking for. Something beautiful to paint? The word ‘beautiful’ might have a different meaning for a non-artist. I was looking for something I felt I could paint well enough. No guide but my wandering mind can take me to such place and I simply go further in whatever direction I feel confident to go. Sometimes I find nothing until near sunset and then I return, disappointed, but all too eager to try again. My best works of art were created at places which would appeal to nobody but me and I am the mistress of my dye and brushes…

The days passed, with no sign whatsoever of Jeanine. I went to places where we have been together, as only I know them. I try to find clues, no matter how small but I find nothing. Not the slightest. What could have happened to her? She would never have just walked away. Somebody, or something, must have taken her. But who, or what? Perhaps she got an accident or something in the woods, but how many people get lost in the woods nowadays? That chance is small and she would never be that foolish. Of course her whole room has been searched minituously by her parents as well as the police, but I decide to pay a visit to her parents the next day. Just in case, besides it’s all there’s left I can do.

I saw the tower in the distance, barely extending above the high trees surrounding it. Curious, I walked towards it. It’s further away than I expected, but it’s hard to estimate distances to objects so far away. It took me more than an hour to reach it. The tower has a small base and is circular in shape. It’s made of crude stones and, strangely enough, has no windows at all. Whatever is in there must be in eternal darkness. This is what I’ve been looking for, perhaps for my whole life.

My finger shakes when I ring the door bell. I have not spoken with Jeanine’s parents for days and I know they must be in deep distress. I am afraid I will give them false hope simply by showing up so the first thing I’ll ask if they have already heard from her. Her father opens the door and I frighten by the look on his face. As if he hasn’t slept since Jeanine’s disappearance. Perhaps that’s actually true.

“Still no sign of her?” I ask him.
“No, nothing… I hoped you had some news.” he replies.
I look at the ground. “There is nothing I can tell you. Can I please have a look in her room? Perhaps I see something the others have overlooked.”
“If you want to… Come in. But the police as well as we have looked for hours. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Still feeling nervous, I step over the doorstep and ascend the stairs to her room.

As I expected, the door of the tower is not locked. There is no reason to lock a door nobody will find. The hinges creak as I slowly open the door and enter the tower. The daylight through the door is the only source of light. I’m glad I have a box of matches with me. I can see the floor is made of nothing but dark earth and there is nothing in the tower. When I look up, all I see is darkness. I light one of the matches and see steep, wooden stairs, almost a ladder going to a higher level. Carefully, I ascend the stairs and reach a floor made of heavy beams. There is a similar stair going further upwards. I wonder what’s at the top of the tower, the stairs must go somewhere.

Her room is as I’ve known, I have spent quite some time here with Jeanine. Perhaps it’s the first time I enter without her. There are plenty of paintings she created herself, the ones she liked best decorating the walls. Others are stacked on her table and I know there are many more under her bed. Sadly, the paintings don’t show anything we can recognize. There is nothing I can see which gives me any clue of her whereabouts. Then I get an idea. I knew she often wanted to be alone, to mesmerize or, as I called it, to dream.

“Can I please have a look at the attic?” I ask her father.
“Why?”
“Nobody looked there, perhaps there is some clue.”
“If you want to, go ahead.”

The attic is not easy to reach. Her father pulls a rope at a trap door in the ceiling and a stair slides out. It deprives me of hope, why would Jeanine take the effort to reach a senseless attic? But I know her thoughts are often hard to grasp for anybody, not even herself. I have nothing to loose, ascend the stairs and reach the attic. There is a single light bulb and gladly the light works, or I would be unable to find anything. If there is anything to be found in the first place.

The last staira reach the ceiling of the tower. It seems to run directly towards the beams, but when I’ve ascended the stair I see there is actually a small trap door. It is heavy, but I manage to lift it and I enter the upper room of the tower. I light a new match and in the light of the small flame, I see one candle in the center of the room. I light it with the match. The tower is so dark that the light of one candle is enough after my eyes have adapted to the light. The walls are totally white, so white it is almost unreal. Somebody must have come here in the past to make them so beautifully white. But they should not be white, as if they are screaming to be painted. Here, at this place, there is something which can only be grasped by painting it. Tomorrow I will return with my brushes and paint.

Gladly, there is little in the attic. It would be hard to take anything here along the clumsy stairs. I see a couple of suitcases, worn, but not worn enough to be discarded. I open the suitcases, but they are all empty. I look further and in the corner, almost hidden from view, I see a small chest. I try to open it, but it is locked. I doubt anybody will care if I destroy the lock trying to open it and I look for some tool to force it open but I can’t find anything. I see the hinges at the back are screwed in the wood with large screws. I take the smallest coin I have from my wallet and gladly it fits in the screw. Though painful for my fingers I manage to unscrew the screws and I can open the chest. Inside I see a small, worn and yellowed book but nothing else.

I am sure I have enough paint to cover all of the walls. I will start a task I don’t want to interrupt. I relight the candle and see the flame dancing, though there is not the slightest draught at all. I look at the walls and I wonder what images should be on them, what essence they are screaming for. I cannot find anything. Time passes, but I have no clue how much. Time seems to have no meaning here. I even look at the candle a couple of times to see if it gets shorter. It does, which means time passes here. I decide not to try to grasp the essence. I will be nothing but its tool. In this strange room, the essence wants to paint itself, or at least that’s what my intuition tells me. I take one of the brushes and start painting the walls randomly, trying not to see what I create. I create nothing. Something here creates itself.

I open the book and see the pages are hand-written, some with a pencil and some with a pen, and in different colors. The pages have dates and this is obviously a diary of some sort. I wonder if it was Jeanine who wrote this but it is easy to find out. I look up a date on which I was together with her and indeed, the pages describe what we’ve done. As long as it’s not sure the diary will give anybody a clue about what happened to Jeanine, I will give nobody false hope. I put the small book in my pocket and leave the attic.

“Found nothing I suppose? There is nothing there.” his father says.
“Only some empty suitcases, I’ve found nothing else.” I reply. I will read the diary as quickly as I can and only then I’ll give it to them. It might be the last rememberence of their daughter, but I try not to think about that. I’m not giving up yet!

Never have I felt so much inspiration. I wish I could paint quicker, but I paint as quickly as I can. Sometimes I have to actually slow down to work more accurately. Strangely enough, what I paint is mostly black, some small spots stay white and I use little of the colors I took with me. What is created must be dark in nature.

I start reading the diary with the last entries first, as they have the most chance to contain any clues. The last entry is small, only a couple of lines. “Tomorrow I will go back to the tower, and create what must be created.” No matter how often I read it, I have no clue which or what tower she means. But I must find out, or the last way to find her which is left vanishes.

For the first time I see what is created. A nightly sky, with lots of stars. In the distance there are treetops, covered with snow and dense forests at a lower level. The room is circular, as is the tower, and it’s a beautiful panoramic vision. More and more, the world I live in fades and a new one is created.

I read more and more entries, trying to find more clues about the tower she mentioned. I am sure she doesn’t want anybody to read her diary, she must have kept it hidden for a reason, but I have no choice. If she ever shows up again, she’ll either forgive me or I wouldn’t even care. I try to grasp Jeanine’s way of thinking, the way her artistic mind worked but it’s hard to penetrate the mind of somebody you cannot talk to. I read the full diary three times in two days. I really wonder what she was looking for when she was out in the woods, how she could get lyrical on places I would not care much about. I wish she had written down more clues for me, but this is all I have and I have no choice but dealing with it.

Finally, the genesis of the world is complete. The ceiling and floor are signs I’m actually in a tower, the view is as real as can possibly be. I’ve created what should be, and now it’s time for me to leave. I blow out the candle and carefully open the trap door. I descend the stairs until I reach the lowest level of the tower. I open the door and find myself in the world which was just created. I should have expected it but I still feel uneasy. As far as I can see, there are mountains and trees. The sky seems to be created of darkness itself, but thousands or perhaps many more stars shine brightly enough for me to see clearly. I wonder where I am…

I walk further and further and the tower gets smaller and smaller, but it’s built on the highest point and I will always be able to find my way back. But I am not going to leave this wonderful world behind me now. I wonder if there are any other humans around here, but I don’t see one nor any traces of them. I walk further, further away from the tower. In the distance I see a lake and I decide to go there. When I reach the lake, I see to my surprise a fellow human being. He is seated on a rock and doesn’t show the slightest of surprise when I approach him.


I enter the woods she often ventured in. I must dive deeply in her mind. I have taken a couple of paintings with me, paintings of which I know where they were created. One by one, I visit the places, trying to find what she saw and how she transformed the images in her mind to drawings. I get seated with my back against a huge tree, which must be over a century old. I try to absorb the surroundings, to drink and breathe it. Hours pass, and finally, the painting she created her starts making sense. I am on the right track.

I return the next day, with different paintings. It is much easier than yesterday and I come closer to grasping Jeanine’s mind. Her paintings portray something beyond the normal level of perception. Something which is hard to understand and even worse to explain. But they will bring me on the right track. Tomorrow, I will try to find out where she went on her last day.

“Good evening!” he greets me heartily.
“Hello”, is all I can say.
“Rarely a visitor makes it here, I can hardly remember the previous one I saw. But it makes you all the more welcome.”

I take a closer look at him. He wears a white blouse, made of thin fabric. It looks old-fashioned but not old. He has long, deep black hair, tied together in a pony tail. Around his neck is a small golden chain, upon it a pendant with a symbol I cannot recognize. He wears quite tight, black pants and on his feet are black, shiny leather boots which extend to just below the knee. He has a friendly look on his face, which manages – though only a little – to comfort me. I wonder if I should be afraid but nevertheless, I am not.

“The beauty of the lake seems to have found a match in you, perhaps that’s why she lured you here.”
“Perhaps…” He rises from the rock and slowly walks towards me. His hand reaches for mine and I take it. He takes me to the shore of the lake. The water surface is flat like a mirror and I see the reflections of the stars in it, as if I’m looking at the sky. He releases my hand and puts his arm around my shoulders. The warmth of his body is pleasant. “I like this place, I come here often and usually at night. It cannot be sheer coincidence that I met you here. Something must have brought you here, for a reason…” he says. I think of his words, I’m sure he is right. I face him. “Perhaps there is a reason I’m here…” I whisper. With his fingertips he wipes some hair off my face. “I think there is a reason we are both here.” he says in a soft voice. “Your eyes are more beautiful than even the brightest of stars in the nightly sky.” Slowly, his lips reach for mine. It is impossible to resist them. His lips touch mine, I can feel the desire in them. I wrap my arms around him. One long, deep kiss, somehow touching all senses in the right way.

His hands grab my hips and seemingly without effort, he lifts me high up in the air.

“Hey, put me down!” I say.
“You should stay here. We are far from finished.”
“Put me down!” I repeat, swinging my arms and legs helplessly in the air.

Still holding me, he walks into the lake, quickly, until his boots are just above the water.

”Put me… No wait, hold me please!” I say, unwilling to enter the cold lake.
“Hold you? Yes…” he whispers, bringing my body closer to his. He cannot hold me forever, strong though he is. I wrap my legs around his hips, my arms around his neck. I climb – the only word I can find – a little higher in his body and his hands support my thighs. Needing his arms to support me, he is free for me to take. I unbutton the uppert part of his blouse, sliding it downwards to reveal his shoulders. I take his left shoulder between my teeth, carefully nibbling the flesh. A happy smile appears on his face and he closes his eyes. My lips move to his neck and I kiss him, gently and carefully. I go further, towards his ear, and take the rim of his ear between my teeth. “Take me to land, and you can have more of me.” I whisper, exploring his ear with the tip of my tongue. To my delight I see him struggling. “Not yet…” he replies. As if he challenges me. I slide my hand in his blouse, at his neck. My nails caress his back, carefully not to hurt him. I look in his eyes for a moment, then kiss his lips, powerfully. “Not yet?” I ask him. “No, not yet.” I unbotton the rest of his blouse and remove it from his body. Carelessly, I drop it in the lake. I take his one of his nipples in my mouth, sucking it in deeply without touching it with my teeth. “What are you waiting for? You can do this as well.” I hear him inhaling through his teeth. One firm lick on his nipple… “All right, little vixen.” he whispers, and in a few steps we are back on the shore of the lake and untimately I feel ground under my feet. He kisses me right below my throat, a spot I never expected to be so sensitive. I long for him to take me.

I untie his ponytail and let my fingers go through his long, soft hair, dark as night itself but shining in the light of the moon and stars. In his eyes I see nothing but burning desire and his self-control must be marvellous. Slowly, his lips reach for mine, burying my face in his hair. “This one will count...” he says, while his lips touch mine. Soft as silk, hot like the sun, seemingly bringing his desire to me. I wrap my arms and legs around him, almost crush his waist between my thighs. His fingertips reach for my neck, carefully tickling me. I bend my head backwards to feel more of it. “The female body has more sensitive spots then in the middle, as you can see. Now find mine...” My hand slides over his right thigh and I see him smiling in satisfaction. I remove his pants to expose the skin. I stroke him with a very light touch, barely feelable, but he obviously does. We roll to our sides. He takes my shirt and slowly pulls it upwards and I extend my arms to aid him in taking it off. A slight breeze of cool air caresses me and I get a little closer to him to feel more of his warmth. I remove my bra, barely able to do it slowly. I move down a bit, touch him above his waist with my breasts. Slowly, I move myself upwards, making sure my nipples touch his when I reach them. I feel a slight shock in his body, just what I hoped for. I move further upwards, put my arms around his neck and head. I kiss his forehead, carefully. He rolls over to his back with me in his arms. His mouth reaches for my left nipple and carefully touches it with his lips. I need more! I take his head in my arms, try to control him, but he is teasing me. I quickly move my thigh firmly between his legs, from the knee to my waist. It triggers the reaction I hoped for. He takes my nipple between his teeth and he uses his teeth, very carefully. I retreat my body but have to pull my nipple from his mouth. I almost put it back in immediately. He unbuttons my pants and slides his fingertips in, slowly caressing me. The message is clear and I take off my pants. I stroke the inside of my thigh over his body, from his knees to his chest. It feels delicious, not only for me. He slides his fingers in my underpants, slowly searching for the way inside. I inhale through my teeth when he finds it and slides in his fingers, slowly making circles. I take his shoulder between my teeth, as if only not to make embarrassing sounds. Slowly, still making circles, he moves in deeper. Only his fingers… what is awaiting me…? I move my hands over his whole body, trying to release some of the energy he is building in me. His thumb finds another very sensitive spot. I lie unmoved, enjoying the intense feeling. But his fingers will not be enough… I put my hand between his legs and give him back something of what he’s giving me. We surely can’t stop here, there is more in it for me. “More!” I whisper in his ear. He adds a third finger, not exactly what I meant but it still feels nice. I touch him more firmly with my hand, bring him further and further. “Why resist me?” I whisper. “I won’t.” he says. He rolls us over, ending up on top of me. I aid him in taking off his boots and clothes. His whole body is mine for me now. But not yet fully, as I find out… Minituously, he moves his body over mine, not yet entering. I have a hard time not just grabbing his body and just push him in, but I decide to make this moment last. He adds a little more pressure any time he moves it back and fro. I stroke him with my right hand from neck to waist, slowly and rythmically. He moves in slightly, just a little, and lets it escape upwards for a full movement over my body. He repeats this, moving in a little more any time. I extend my arms sideways, let him go on. Finally, he makes it fully in, retreating it. I take his waist between my thighs to stop it. I don’t want him out. “Keep it there”, I say softly. “No action?” he aks. “Yes! I say through my teeth. He repositions his body a little and in one quick movement he is fully in again. He is slowly speeding up. I kiss him deeply in one long kiss, putting all lust in it I possess, which is more and more antyime he invades me. He ends up slowing down, delaying the final moment. I wrap my arms powerfully around his body when it comes. He looks in my eyes for the timeless moment which gives me a strange sensation. He retreats himself from my body and lies down in the grass, his hand caressing my forehead. He wipes a couple of strands of hair off my face with his fingertips. I feel his teeth gently in my shoulder, slowly moving towards my neck. His teeth and lips give me a ticklish but nonetheless pleasant sensation. A gentle kiss on my cheek, then he moves over my throat, over my breast bone downwards. His nails tickle over my ribs with a touch softer than air. It’s an exciting feeling and I have a hard time remaining unmoved, but I want to do nothing to stop him now. His mouth reaches my belly, just above my waist. “Need a kiss?” I hear him whispering. “Of course!” I say. The kiss is firm and I feel his whole face pressed against my body. “Lower?” he asks. “Yes!” Painstakingly slow, I feel him moving downwards. He spreads my legs a little to give himself more space. The tip of his tongue plays with my most sensitive spot. I tickle his neck with my nails, but let him in control. With intense concentration, he plays with me. How long will I be able to stay unmoved? Just as long as he needs, I think. Unexpectedly, he moves his tongue inwards, making circles with his tongue, his lips firmly pressed on me. I put my arms around his body and hold him, getting as much of his body as I can get. He takes his tongue out and starts licking, slowly and carefully increasing power, preparing for the final moment, slowing down when it’s nearly there, keeping me on the edge with his tongue tip. “Do it!” I almost scream. “Do what?” “Finish it!”. A very soft kiss, then I feel a very slow powerful lick, slowly reaching for the point that will trigger the ultimate. He holds a moment before he reaches it, driving me almost insane. Then, he gives me with his tongue what he can give, bringing me far over the edge, not stopping until I’m fully at rest again. He moves towards me for a soft kiss which still feels like fire in this condition. He helps me getting seated upright.

I stare at the lake and only now I realize how immense it must be. Behind the horizon is nothing but darkness, as if I look at the sea, but the watersurface is motionless except for the occasional wrinkles caused by the wind.

With his right arm he drags me a closer to his body. His hand caresses my neck and back, slowly.

“I cannot stay here with you. I must leave in a moment. Don’t expect ever seeing me again, for it will only disappoint you.” he says.
“Don’t leave me behind here, please!” I beg him.
“Go to sleep, my dear… You should sleep…”
“No! Take me with you, wherever you go.”
“I can’t… Don’t try to understand this…”

I don’t want to sleep, but it is as if tranquility itself flows from his fingers and I cannot resist much longer. Slowly, the world around me fades and sadly with it, his presence.

I open my eyes and find myself surrounded by beautiful paintings. I look at them, touch them, but they are nothing but paintings.


I walk for hours, trying to follow the path she created. Countless times I stare in the distance, looking for the tower she mentioned in her diary. Great is my delight when I ultimately see a tower and I quickly walk towards it. Will the mystery soon be over? Finally, I reach the tower and open the door. The tower is utterly dark and I carefully ascend the stairs. I am sure she must have been here or at least, that this strange building gives me some clue. Carefully, with hands and feet, step by step, I climb higher until I touch a ceiling. I push at the ceiling and to my surprise, it budges. In the silence of the tower, I can hear my heart beating violently. In the emerging hole, I see a little light. Surely I am not alone here…

Jeanine is so obsessedly painting the walls that she has not noticed me entering. Finally, I have found her but I cannot help wondering why she spends her time painting here.

“Jeanine!” I say.
“Leave me alone, please!”
“No… I have not come here to leave without you. Don’t try to make me do that.”
“Please, go away!”
“What are you doing in here? Why did you paint all this? What happened to you?”
“Nothing…”
I walk towards her and grab the brush out of her hand. “What happened here?”
“I met somebody and I will meet him again. No matter how much time it takes, I will!”
“Who did you meet?”
“A man… and we were at a lake and…”
“A man at a lake? Where’ve you been?”
“I don’t know… There…” she says, pointing at the walls.

Though normally already hard to grasp, she now puzzles me completely. “Get seated” I say, while I get seated myself. “And tell me what happened.” She gets seated next to me and tells her story. It is the strangest story I have ever heard in my life, but she speaks so vividly that I wonder if it did not actually happen. But that can simply not be true.

“It must have been a dream or something like that.”
”It was not… It was real, everything…”
“You have such strong imagination, perhaps it just overtook you. You see things where we don’t see them. You paint things we can see only in a different way. Perhaps it just overtook you.”
“Dream or no dream, I will return to it. No matter how…” I wrap my arm around her shoulders.
”You can’t, my friend. And even if you could, there are too many people you would leave behind here. Your place is here, and his is there. He told you not to try to understand it. Then don’t try. What else can you do for him?” She rests her head on my shoulder.

She insists on painting the walls white again before we leave. I look back at the tower for a moment. A building made of crude stones, without any windows, but I can’t help wondering if there is some truth in the story of Jeanine. What she described was too real for a dream. We turn around and walk away before she notices me wondering. Still, the tower leaves many questions…