Slumber

  There is a man who sleeps in the crypts of an old church, and no one knows he is there.  In fact, the man himself does not know that he is there; for his dreams have become more real to him than the lonely darkness of the crypt. 

  He is well dressed, with a long, navy blue jacket that has golden buttons upon the cuff.  His shirt was is mostly white, but there is a peculiar, dark circular stain surrounding his left breast, in the midst of which protrudes the tip of a long, polished, wooden stake.  One pale hand grips the stake, and so it has been for over a century.

  If you were there, you might approach him, he upon his solemn stone resting place, and after noticing the stake, you might next notice something peculiar about his face.  His head lies upon a small, lacy pillow, and his silken dark hair is spread across it.  And upon his waxy, white face, there is a smile that is the embodiment of pure contentment, perhaps even joy. 

  It is natural to wonder what the man is dreaming of; to wonder what his imagination could possibly conjure that could bring him such profound happiness.  It was certainly not so in the beginning, when he was first entombed.  During those first few years, when he had the strength to hold his eyes open, he stared out into the darkness and cried many tears.  The knowledge that the sound of his anguish would never be heard only made him cry the harder, until at last there were no more tears to be shed. 

  When he could no longer cry, he began to think, and to remember.  He remembered being infected with the foul disease that changed his life, and the endless nights of struggling against mind-numbingly savage urges.  He remembered standing alone upon the balcony of his home, gripping the railing and staring up at the stars as fear threatened to overwhelm him altogether.  He had mostly been afraid of bringing harm to his love, Elanor, perhaps even killing her.

  One night, he slaughtered a servant without even realizing it.  When he woke the next morning, covered in the blood and lying alongside the poor woman's body, it was painfully clear that he did not possess the strength necessary to avoid succumbing to his cruel desires.  He resolved to put an end to himself, before he could do any more harm.

  He wrote a farewell letter to Elanor, and then began to carve a stake.  He created it from the finest wood, and polished it until it was nearly glowing; he dressed in his very best clothing.  And then at last, he set out to an old abandoned church, and then down the long winding steps to the very lowest level at the crypt.

  When he had reached the lowest level, he suddenly noticed the pale, trembling light of a candle spreading across the staircase.  A few minutes later, his beloved, Elanor, appeared in the crude stone opening, grasping the candle in one hand and clutching a small bag in the other.

  His favorite memory is of this moment.  Seeing Elanor framed in the soft light of the candle, her long dark hair cascading down her slender shoulders.  Her cream colored gown, and her smooth skin, slightly flushed from the long descent.  Her doe-like eyes, gazing up at him.

  She came to him, and he wrapped his arms around her in a gentle embrace.  He felt that she was trembling, and that she wept silently.  He wanted to comfort her more, but he feared that he might lose his resolve, if he waited too long.  So he began to clean off one of the stone slabs, and after a few moments, she began to help him.

  He then lay upon the slab.  She withdrew the only item within the bag she had brought, which was a beautifully crafted pillow.  She slipped it under his head, and he smiled at her. 

  “I love you,” He said; and then, “I love you.” She said. 

  He placed the stake above his heart.  Gripping it tightly in his fist, he then spoke to her his last words: “Until eternity, my love.”  And with his unnatural strength, he drove the stake through his own breast, until it pierced through his heart.

  He had watched her kneel before him, weeping.  At first he thought that, surely, his body was slowly dying; but he soon realized that, although he could not move, his consciousness had not dimmed in any way.

  He began to panic, and try to speak to Elanor; to beg her to pluck the cold splinter from his heart.  But he could not speak, and only a few moments later she flew away from the room, the nearly melted candle trembling wildly in her hands as she wept.  He remembered how the light faded away, and darkness and silence fell as one upon the small chamber.

  The pain of remembering this last moment was altogether too much for the man, so he began to imagine how things might have gone differently, if he had been able to speak.  And then he began to imagine how things might have been if he hadn't been infected at all; and it was with these thoughts that he at last fell into a death-like slumber.

  In his dreams, he and Elanor reside in a beautiful mansion.  He works at some mundane, but well paid, job, where he mostly just longs to return home to his beautiful wife.  He buys her gowns whenever he can afford it, and puts up with the miserable drudgery of dances, balls and other social affairs so she might be happy, which brings him joy. 

  They have three children together, whom he constantly plays with and teaches.  He carries the youngest, a girl named Bella, upon his shoulders when the family goes on walks, and his two boys cheerfully run about. 

  The man has come to accept this world as his reality, even though it is an unchanging world.  He has not yet realized the strangeness of the fact that his “children” do not grow, or that his wife's beauty is not diminished by time.  He simply relishes the joy and happiness of such a world.

  And so he sleeps, and sleeps, and the world passes him by.  A thousand suns set, and a thousand moons rise; forests have fallen, and mountains have been sculpted by wind and water into new forms; yet he dreams contently and peacefully through it all.  He has found something, in the very depth of misery, that many strive for.

  May his slumber continue, undisturbed, for a thousand years to come.