Thursday, 9 February 2012

Mina Harker





“And then when he comes the moon is high and it looks bloated and hazy through my window like the head of a cherub with too many haloes so that its all distorted and fat and ugly, but the sky around is clear and blue cold like the sea. John took me to Brighton once the sea was like it there too, it had mass blue black mass but froth danced on the top but was dragged back under and it was nauseating to stare at too long. I felt sick when he came too, many different sicknesses sick with hunger sick in the pit of my stomach like a sickness I wanted more of it was warm and cold all at once. And when this sickness came he came and he gave me kisses. Kisses that touched like cashmere on my lips and it felt like red velvet, red velvet all around me lifting me and touching me all over. He made me feel red velvet, and he held the red velvet and controlled it, knew exactly what he was doing and just went with it. John, on the other hand, thinks about what he’s doing too, but he’s fretting like a hand a finger picking at a stray bobble on the velvet instead of just diving into it and so it always feels like a little breeze crosses between us he’s always so restrained. I love him but sometimes I hate it.

But then he lets the velvet slip away and stops playing puppeteer, and he kisses me again but it’s on my neck, and this time it doesn’t feel like velvet and I feel another sickness come it’s nausea and I can taste it in my mouth it makes everything murky and half there and I become aware of just how dark it is again. He kisses me but it feels like wind blasting under a bridge the sound wind makes when it comes through a bridge and takes all the hats off the dark masses moving in front of you. But it’s louder it hurts the wind comes from me I can feel it rushing from my neck into the tunnel and so I try to breathe in because all I can think of is to get new wind to fill my body and replace all the stuff he’s taking out of me, but its never enough air and soon my fingers feel cold my face like ice but I sweat all the same, ringlets of water down my face like an army I can’t make out reaching somewhere, but my face is already cold and blue, it feels blue, I can’t understand why. Jonathan never did this to me, he kept the velvet away and part of me finds that hard to forgive now that I’ve felt the velvet, like grandma’s wedding dress in the attic on the mannequin, it always looked murky and eerie in the distance but when you walked up to it and took grandpa’s bowler hat off it suddenly all the children came out and wanted to feel the soft lovely fabric between their fingers and watch it ripple across their hands. But then mother would come and you could see her candle light bobbing in the distance like a buoy just off the mainland at night or like Jonathan in a crowded room of masses and that was it. He kept the velvet away from me but he let me keep the wind inside me, he never took it and never would unless I made him but he wouldn’t because my wind blows across him and makes things clearer for him like his wind calms me and puts things under the light. But now everything is so dark and everything feels so strange, I’m ill and slow like wading through darkness and then he goes through my window and again I’m alone on my bed and I don’t know what to do but Lucy I keep remembering Lucy.”