untitled
'SI
LA VIE EST UN CADEAU'
By:
Truthwebothknow
I'm
sitting here inside this stranger's place
And time is racing by.
I've been way out here for a month or more
Tonight I'm wonderin' why you try to understand the things that I
feel
Maybe this time I'll find a way to explain it.
Cause there is a dream deep inside my head
And it may seem like it's breaking the thread
That holds me to you.
Still you have never wanted to change me.
But, darling, I know though we're far apart,
The signal is strong,
This helpless heart will always belong to you...
To you.
........................................~Paul Brady
I Feel you, you know, like the diaphanous wings of a tiny moth
inside my consciousness. It tickles, light as a feather, a
fleeting, delicate almost subliminal feeling. You are in my
veins, my capillaries that fill with the life affirming sensation
that is you, your love; my terrified heart.
But there is nothing fleeting about you. Nothing. I can feel you
sitting there in the dunes by my childhood home, a place to
connect, the last of the autumn sun shining through the wild riot
of Ruby hair, that rise up like silk prayer flags around your
face, tickling your cheek, catching in the tears that hang there
like crystal drops in the light, as you watch the fury of the
waves. Not a sign of weakness, like you might say, but of your
strength. What kind of fortitude is this? I marvel at the way you
carry on, carry yourself. You seem more than you were, larger
than life, if what I go through now passes for that in this
domain of dark terror. There's a new inner strength I can't
define that belays your tears. An echo?
There is something in my brain, Scully, they just...punched a
hole and pushed it in. The pain...is indescribable. They did
something odd, as the white noise kept me from scraping my
medulla oblongata against the cold slimy Alien metal, but then
you know its always been tilted at a peculiar angle. Now they
tune me into you like the dial on an old radio, static and
streams of discordant buzz come at me like a tsunami, and all I
can think is that this might be why our connection is enhanced,
although I want to believe that its our hearts, always entwined
like that of Siamese twins; an invisible bond that holds us
together now, always unending, tense and unbreakable. Stretching
across the distance like millions of aching, humming tendrils of
silkworms threads, rather than grant them credit for my ability
to feel you now. Embodiment of love and soul that cannot be
vanquished by evil dominions that hold me and keeps me from your
side.
I think I like it this way, our one sided connection. It doesn't
seem to work both ways; although on some level I know you must
sense me too, so used to our intimacy, that the imprints of what
we mean to each other, are the indelible strands of sanity for us
both. I feel your pain as much as, and outweighing my own, as
your tears scrape against my heart. Its raw and open now, and
it's too exhausted to carry on working, but does so despite my
desire that that it should stop. Perhaps they control that too,
this gift that they give me in their twisted Alien benevolence.
I'm glad you can't see me, Scully. I would hate to see your
beautiful face this scared; shocked and crumpled into a living
caricature of pain, and hate for what they are doing to me.
Despite the urge to give up, I cherish this respite from crashing
loneliness, the chance to connect with you in some small way
across the void and stars, perhaps for the last time. You are my
only tether to sanity, my hope, the only damned thing worth
breathing for, and they are slowly taking that away from me in
tiny little increments. No eyes should see this; rather I strike
you blind, than let those eyes that have always been a mirror
reflecting back the love we shared, fall upon my pathetic living
cadaver.
I don't understand this advance form of Alien lobotomy, nor do I
want to.
You were right of course, as you always are, despite the times I
teased you to the contrary. I'd leer and you would give me
eyebrow and the banter would go on, like two well rehearsed
actors in the play of love we shared. You were so, right, I
shouldn't have gone, should never have deserted you when you
physically needed me close by. You were sick and I hate myself
every second of every day, for being too blinded by the thoughts
of my quest. Can you ever forgive me? Could I ever ask you? What
was I thinking?
I wasn't thinking at all.....
This isn't how I imagined it you know, all those boyhood dreams
and adventure tale moments come back to haunt me now, the longed
for joy of one day finding Samantha. My curiosity certainly
killed this cat, my stupid egotistical brain fart that this whole
shebang possessed a Hollywood ending of joyous catharsis, that a
profound cloud of delight and happy tears would envelop, freeing
me from my living hell, with a side order of candy floss and an
'Oprah' style reunion. Some vestige of doubt remained that I had
once held Sam's apparition in my arms. I was never free, not
then, not now.
Those boys adventure tales disintegrate before me with each
terrified heartbeat.
What did I expect? I can almost hear your words in my head, and
that alone brings a sad smile to my pain trembled lips. Your eyes
like iced fire flashing indignantly at my folly, pinned here like
a stricken insect on display, the accusation marred by the
tearing of our hearts. Physically for me, ... emotionally for
you.
I think those words are there in your subconscious, Scully, raw
and harsh, they just can't cut through the weight of your tears.
This isn't Hollywood; its not Star Trek. This is real, up close
and personal horror, no kindly Mr. Spock with his philosophical
cosmic karma and promises of 'No KILL I', this is my reality and
you're not here. I won't live long ...or prosper. I boldly
went...and fucked up.
I can't even say I found Elvis, god knows I could use his music
now to soothe my galloping heart.
Words can't describe the duality of wanting you so badly, and yet
knowing that you are safe...from this...and you are looking for
me with every ounce of your being.
This isn't Hollywood is it? Not even close. I idly wonder what
Federmann would make of all this. Could he get the REAL flavour?
This isn't even a Speibergesque feel good epic...and I'm not Roy
Fucking Neary, I'm not like that lucky wide-eyed bastard, who
walked into the nexus of light and group hugged the 'greys'.
Hugging ain't their thing, Scully. Cutting, slicing,
drilling...that's their thing.
I'm naked, in more ways than you can imagine.
I'm not the Close Encounter hero, but I'm close to
something...terrible. I'm Fox William Mulder, the biggest sucker,
the most colossal looser of all time. I am both found and at the
same time irrevocably lost to you...to this. And I want...no need
to think that I didn't have a choice, ...like Sam, that all this
was inevitable for some universal goodness concept, which somehow
got lost or derailed along the way. I made the choice Scully, but
was it mine to begin with? Was this not ordained long ago by
happenstance of my birthright? When I think of what I've cost
you...
Maybe I deserve all this; perhaps everything was leading to this,
in some divine plan that was kept secret from us. Though I'm sure
you would be the first to tell me that, God doesn't use power
tools against helpless living flesh.
So I am out here, all alone, in an alien sky, the far side,
whatever you want to call it, far away from you my love, the
brightest star in my firmament, because Fox Mulder 'phoned home'
one damn time too many and ET reversed the charges, suspending
his service indefinitely.
I need you.
I need you so much.
For what its worth I'm so sorry. More sorry than you could ever
imagine. I'm making this hollow plea with my mind and heart,
because my lips are currently screaming in another galaxy, far
far away.
I can still feel you, Scully; I can sense every nuance, every
little thing and every part of you everywhere, as if my
consciousness is entwined with the molecules of space and time
like I'm plugged into some giant plasma conduit, connected to
every living thing, and the overwhelming rush is making my head
spin and the veins in my arms stand up, like some manic creation
from a Mary Shelley novel.
The overhead light that burns my skin with its brilliance, makes
it hard to open my eyes, but your eyes have a new home safe
beneath my closed lids, and my heart takes a picture; storing it
in the little fragment of me that isn't cut off from humanity.
I feel everyone one of your tears fall through your trembling
fingertips, their journey down your cheeks, making tiny circles
in the sand as they land, and coating each particle like a warm
breath, waning like every last drop of hope I possess into silent
nothingness.
Your spirit feels electric, and I will never give up the sanctity
of this connection. I forbid it.
Its' all I have.
Ever stopped to wonder why you feel relaxed on a beach, Scully?
The riddle of the sands. Each one on those minute facets is a
crystal that draws and retains the life-affirming rays of the
sun. Gazillions of little grains holding a charge in the confines
of its structure, like the tiniest elemental pulse, waiting
enticingly for you to stretch out with your Pepsi and obligatory
Bodice Ripper, then bathing you in the collective effect of
universal Nirvana, that kisses and caresses your skin until it
makes you feel good and laid back; tranquil, at ease and
inexorably loved by nature's osmosis.
You don't feel good today, do you? I cry those tears with you,
believe me; they mingle in the sand like a heady potion of
regret, sorrow and paralysing fear, stirred by the echo of my
heart with each violent breath I take.
Our Sun has gone down, Scully. Casting our lives in tragic
tapestry of mist so dense, that you couldn't cleave it with an
axe. Somewhere along the way the sun deemed us unworthy, denying
us its beautiful nurturing benevolence from our existence. The
only light I have to see by now, is the deep azure of yours eyes.
You always kept a light on for me, didn't you Scully? Even lonely
in your own nightmare, you let me in.
My famous eidetic memory must be enhancing the effect somehow, on
this intergalactic games console from hell. I'm getting a respite
from 'Lord Darth's house of pain', because as your reach down to
touch the sand, stroking and sifting the grains through your
fingers in reverent awe, it's as though you're touching my
fevered skin:
I feel it....I ...feel it!
....And I want to touch you back , my psuedo 'Jedi' spirit
reaches for you but my strength deserts me, and it breaks my
heart that I can't. I can't communicate to you that I feel your
warmth, your soul, without the knowledge to understand this
Strange phenomenon, this virtual reality from space.
I can't fathom how they do this, but Scully, you are so close
inside me; every cell and fibre, vein and artery is saturated
with your life force, in that tiny part of me not descending into
primordial sensitivity, and for the first time in as long as I
can remember, a gentle hand calms the raging, kicking beast my
heart has become.
I am more than I was; yet at the same time feel like a breath
snuffed out by flame.
Nothing at all, no substance. So much for the 'Force, Luke.'
THEY'RE HURTING ME, SCULLY,
...And they keep on hurting me, lulling me into a false sense of
security that my aching soul can no longer capitulate.
On and on......
Can you hear me?
Dark clouds loom on over your haven in the dunes. Its thundering
in your world so far from me; painting the sky in shades from a
melancholy artist's brush, or struck from the tempest of an angry
god, sobbing big fat rain drops onto your hair, making it kiss
your face and reach for your eyes in the breeze. Not totally
dulling its fiery warmth, but enhancing that wild look, you know
always turned me on.
The sudden wind that picks up and chills your skin, is the sharp
gasp my lungs take at your beauty within the raw maelstrom of
nature, and I'm reminded a 1000 times over why your soul holds me
captive; your ever grateful prisoner.
I feel you stand strong and proud, taking each sorrow heavy step
in tandem with each beat of my heart, getting louder like the
surf as you approach the waters edge; footprints casting weary
indentations in the sand.
The pulse you feel beneath your naked feet is my own, Scully.
It's the only way I can touch you now, through this tenuous,
otherworldly connection, of the elements, that parse through my
every molecule. This frail body is their captive, but my heart
has always remained in your safekeeping.
Now I have a galaxy of fireworks all to myself. Its Labor Day,
Christmas, and 4th of July with bells and whistles, , all rolled
into one. Too bad I don't have a cold beer and your arms to hold
me, your laughter as we stare heavenwards, marvelling the
spectacular light show reflected in each other's eyes.
We are all star stuff at the end of the day.
So here I am, anyway....
..... Presiding over my blood red universe in a hack job, alien
dentist's nightmare chair, like some Dustin Hoffman stand in, out
of 'Marathon man'. Jeez, I'll never whine about root canal again.
The wind that wraps around you is the longing in my arms; the
raindrops that melt against your cheeks, my kisses, and the water
that laps over your toes, my blood as they cut me stem to
stern...
The crack of thunder overhead is the capitulation of bone under
spinning blade...
I feel like one of your cadavers; a silent witness to the horror,
my voice inexorably lost under the crushing weight of personal
atrocity, till its pulled from me once more by something too
terrifying to contemplate within my failing psyche.
A howling wind I can't control reaches all points to the shore.
The squeal that cuts through the roiling clouds fury, are the
screams that break past from my throat as 'They' hold aloft my
living heart, still warm and pulsing with its need for you. The
thunder is my rage; a solid cacophonous monster that wants to
crack open the heavens at this, the most profound of all
injustices.
They are hurting me....hurt....no...
Scully....
...My mind screams thunderous outrage across the vineyard
shoreline like a wraith. My world turns red, as you physically
stagger back from the white horses that reach for you from the
waves.
I was Jonah, Scully, an insignificant speck of humanity who fell
into the Whale's mouth; ingested like a bad meal into the belly
of insanity. Cocky and cavalier about my place in this great
cosmic conundrum, I find myself in. I found serenity with you and
should have been content. I'd give anything to turn back time,
but it's the only thing I don't have software for on this deathly
scenario I'm plugged into.
Your gasp is the splinter driven into my mind, as it tries
frantically to process the sensation of them dropping my nearly
dead organ, back into my chest; but its stubborn and still
refuses to be snuffed out; my love for you keeps the oxygen
pumping at least, leaching through every last cell like an
electric charge.
...And your eyes blow up like a storm at the second thunderous
wave that almost envelops you, feeling the palpable charge in the
ozone all around you.
I know I can feel you clearly now; your breath comes in tight
gasps, in concert with my own fearful heaving.
The stars are just peaking through the depressed artist's canvas
that is the early evening sky. If you look up.... right up now
Scully, as I can sense you will, you might just see my eyes. Far
away pinpricks of light that are swollen over with unshed tears,
giving them the brightest shine you have ever seen. In that
instant that melds us as one, I sense a sea change, your head
pulling up in almost inexplicable recognition.
In an almost imperceptible way, your fingers caress the
sea-bleached shells at the shoreline, like treasures from Neptune
himself, and I watch your eyelids close as if you can sense me
almost. My blood, warm and deepest red, slick from this latest
alien atrocity, mingles odiously on the ozone through the night
air, and I can only watch your face twist into a disturbed
caricature of your gentle beauty, at some terrible notion come to
pass.
One of those leaps of spooky logic that always astound and
confound you, worm its way into the tortured recesses that double
for my brain....
I could give you a gift. I really could, I think.
The powers that be, old ' lost-an-argument-with-an-18 wheeler
face', to be precise, has left me alone now. The drills are
silent, but maybe only for afew short hours and I can perhaps
force my mind to expand past the agony, to boost the signal that
I hold so dear.
The tendrils thicken and energize, carrying its precious cargo
across the galaxy like starlight a million years old. Deflected
by white dwarfs, pulsars, bent into infinity on their journey to
your soul.
Your arms hug around your body, against the chill that buffets
you, and I get the faintest feeling of being folded within your
embrace, as a lost child would be. Or a lover reunited.
Together we breathe: in and out, in and out,... like the only two
souls left aware. In defiance of the wind and the turn of tide,
like time itself.
I think I see a spark of light in your eyes, a tiny quiver at the
edge of your lips, as if you sense finally that I'm' close by.
I'm really.... I'm touching,...I can almost...
I'm almost ...there. Hold on...
Sea spray dampens your clothing, just like my tears... My fear is
the approaching fall of night; unstoppable, all encroaching, but
the chords of life that connects us, strengthen and travel at the
speed of a laser and pinball off that white star, guided by your
faith. I feel however, the kind hand of Ahab guiding me to you,
like it was meant to happen. I often wonder if he would have
liked me...
I am everywhere...and nowhere, with you, around you and touching
every part of you, inside and out, with absolute clarity. Your
life force feeds and sustains my human wreck, transmuting it to
pure energy, need and force of will to be back with you.
Clarity washes over me like the waves and I know I could move
mountains now, sculpt the contours of the land, part the waves
like Moses and reach out to take your hand as you tremble against
nature. You are cosmic, Scully. Your fear is such a fleeting
thing and the strength you possess, cannot be vanquished like a
teardrop in the sand.
For the world is hollow and I have touched the sky. Nothing can
touch me now. I can halt the wind, anger the sea, whip up the
fire you always instilled in me and walk through unscathed. I can
beat the mind killer; I can touch you in ways I had never dreamed
of before, utterly, and completely.
.....And I will return to you. I know that as mightily as I know
every freckle on your face. It's surer than my next calm breath.
I celebrate the timbre of your wind chime laughter, the curves of
your body, and your true heart.
Our Truth.
Its mine, this victory, I just have to reach out and touch .....
"Mulder....?"
Your anguished cry, snatched by the wind, almost stops my heart.
For a few seconds, you stand lonely in the eye of a storm.
Oh Scully..., don't cry. I meant to only touch your face again,
feel your skin.. I needed that ...so badly. My wind blown kiss
was too harsh. I see it sting your eyes.
You need hope too.....you suspect... your mouth moves my name
against your fingers in a silent whisper, too afraid to break the
sudden eerie silence.
I'm here, Scully. I've always been here. .... Irony hits me that
you came to Martha's harbor to find me, when I was here all the
time....oh I don't mean the Vineyard........right here ..Feel it?
A warm breezes flutters up and around your shivering body, and
your hands fly to your heart in a moment of perfect clarity.
There.... Right there, Scully. I Live here....
I will never leave.....
The storm now bereft of its unwieldy power, softens into an
uneasy alliance with the waning sun. Thin laser shafts of golden
brightness push the clouds aside like errant toddlers after a
fight, touching down on your hair, and you look like you're
aflame. Your eyes pick up the bright glare and look alive again,
almost hopeful.
When I think of what I've missed with you,..... Once again I
curse the vermin that is Krycek; a thousand deaths could never be
good enough for him.
He belongs in a slime pit like this.........
I belong by your side, and would trade with the devil himself to
be with you now.
My thoughts return to my gift for you. It's the only important
thing. Every ounce of my conscious strength, my thoughts will be
needed for this. I look into myself to muster ever last drop of
stamina left to me, hoping that I won't come up wanting.
I breathe in and out against the unending pain, clinging claw and
teeth to our communion, as the now placid evening waves lap and
shimmer over your toes like the caress of my eager mouth.
Something catches your beautiful eyes, making their blueness
dance like brilliant orbs of warmth and hope in the half-light,
Lighting my way from the fearful purgatory of the alien ship.
The tremulous waves give up their treasure at your feet, just as
I would want to lay my life there. Like a moth to a flame you
enclose one small hand over its surface, examining its strength
and shape; touching it with one finger gently like a newborn
baby's skin.
My gift to you Scully, not the Hope Diamond, but even more
precious, if you will, worth a thousand 'Kohinor's', forged from
my love, my passion and all the energy I can muster from heaven
and earth.
When you were missing those 3 long terribly empty months, I was
heartbroken....it left me as frail as a waterlogged kitten. A
stiff breeze would have crushed me to a pulp. What kept me going
was that little touch of gold, that you wore so close to your
heart.
That I lost this time..
...Your cross.... your faith and eventually I realized, my own
abstract version of it; but in those terms, I have no faith
greater than what I have in you, your strength to continue the
search for me. It's even more apparent now, that I realize I
would not have survived a longer separation. My heart felted
stoned...cut open...left bleeding into the excruciating normalcy
going on around me...like a mocking voice I......
If your mother hadn't given me that cross....
I wanted to die back then, but like early winter snow, it never
settled completely, and the numbness and chill took over until I
was an automaton; the only way I could function to search for
you. Yet I sense such thoughts have skittered across your own
heart, but now only your resolve to find me, remains today.
Here...
.....So literally, through space ,time and Martha's ebbing tide,
even though we use to often joke about our shortcomings as gift
givers; my crappy Apollo keying ,aside.....
I'm giving you a better gift now, one that's more appropriate
than anything else I can offer, and says a million things more
than all my Oxford educated prose could expound the feelings that
I possess at this moment ...for you, or our hope, for us.
This is appropriate now...
Something easy to carry, to fit precisely into the palm of your
tiny hand, to give you hope as I understand it right now. An
elemental talisman and a tangible token of me, that you can
touch, draw strength from, until I return to the safe haven of
your heart, and the welcoming harbor of your embrace.
Until we are partner's again in every sense of the word.
To all that we are...and what we WILL be.
I am starlight, Scully.........Hey G-woman, How often was I
wrong? Old joke I know....but I'm am here with you, inside you;
my eyes are open to the only truth now, as I look down to where
you hold my gift. The waves at rest now, calmer that a mirrored
surface. If you listen closely you can hear eternity.
We are connected now in the profoundest of ways, in every breath,
heartbeat, and ray of sun. In every star...
Somewhere out on the rim... I am here and I will find my way
home.....
Take my gift, Scully and know that signal is strong.
The truth is in me.....and I can see now...Oh god,
Scully...m.....my gift to you on this lonely shore wasn't the
first, was it. ..I. How could I have been so damn stupid?
We created our own truth all along.
Believe me, Scully, that I will return to you somehow.
It's what I have to believe now. I do.
I love you both.... more than I have words to express.
...I know you will believe, God I'm so tired.....
Rain bathes you in crystal drops, no longer cold from the wind,
but warm, like my tears, they refract light from the opalescent
treasure in your hand; it pulses now like my tired heart.
Keep it ...keep it safe.... The wind whispers down.
A rainbow stretches languidly across the sky, deflected in the
crystal, painting your face in colored light,.... and you smile.
*************
Inquisitive sticky fingers enclosed around the bright shiny
object on the mantle piece, where his parents kept their
"special keepsakes". Two dark eyes alight with
curiosity and wonder, marvel at the illicit prize, and dart about
the room on alert, at the prospect of being caught red handed; at
the same time, tottering on little legs trying maintain
precarious balance on the footstall, that just gave him the extra
height he needed to reach it.
The boy, so engrossed by the rainbows dancing on the ceiling,
shuddering with delight at the awesome effect; the next second,
gasping as two very large warm hands clamp gently over his eyes,
obscuring the crystal still cupped tightly in his shaking palms.
"Guess who, Champ?" ... And the tinkle of love filled
laughter fills his consciousness...
As the crystal falls through his fingers with shock, one hand
leaves his eye, making him blink, and he watches as if in slow
motion, as the long fingers of his fathers hand catch it with
ease of a base ball pro. His father laughs softly again and the
boy erupts into giggles, feeling the other hand ruffling his dark
head.
His father stops to look at the object in his hand momentarily,
never breaking the tender contact with his child, his other hand
still resting on his shoulder. Time seems to stop and his father
is as still as the sun warmed air in the room. He's gazing down
the crystal and turning it over in his hands again and again; the
lights refracting from the many prisms, now dancing a colorful
jig across his handsome face.
Wide brown eyes observe the quiet, as he sees a thousand
different emotions, that at the tender age of five, he is too
young to name, transform his father's features from sorrow,
remembrance, to hope and finally to joy.
When his own personal hero lifts his eyes again, they almost
glitter; his smile is watery with unshed tears and they both let
out the breath that each of them didn't realize they'd been
holding, his tiny mouth forming into a "O" in
wonderment at the notion that he might cry too, but can't
comprehend
why.
The little flutter like worms in his tummy subside, as his
father's mouth pulls into a full flashing smile.
"Hey Champ....." He mock scolds, his voice uneven and
jiggled; the boy thinks, like when his dad sometimes talks to his
mom late at night, when they're in bed after daddy screams and
has woken him; when he has woken in the night to strange and
scary dreams himself, tiptoed with his teddy to his parents room,
then peeped in to see if they are safe, and still there to love
him, or when they make kissy faces and hold each other, and all
the other little ways he's seen his parents love manifest between
them, every day in a million different ways. He looks at his
father now and feels that warm feeling inside again, the one
mommy says is love.
He blinks; his father is still smiling and only now does he feel
inquisitive again about what his father is still holding in his
hand.
"Daddy, what's that?" His two huge brown saucers light
up in childish wonder at his father's sudden wistful smile, that
this time reaches what mommy calls his "Cameleon eyes."
"Well William, " Mulder chest sucks in a huge ragged
breath ...as Scully appears, spoons behind him, and places her
own small palm over his fathers hand, that still cossets the
crystal, gently rubbing his wrist. " 'A long time ago in a
galaxy far far away............'
****
The evening is falling and the last rays of sun paint the sky in
golden splendor with last of the summer warmth.
Two people huddle close in the Dunes that hug the Vineyard shore,
their mouths move together in a tender kiss, as they try to get
closer still under the blanket, bracing them against the late
September wind and blowing sand spray, never taking their loving
gaze from a dark haired little boy and his little sister laughing
and tumbling in the sand, looking for crystals at low tide. .....
FINIS
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