*The heavy ivory sky gathered low to the starving ground and was turning an angry gray with threat. New Orleans in early spring was a very temperamental lady. I suppose the same is true for all the majestic cities. Paris and London weep for days on end this time of year, while New York shakes the winter blues out of her coat one last time before reluctantly putting it away. I love the feeling in my city just before a storm; the preternatural tranquility, the collective hush; it’s an almost magical feeling. The sky rumbles and shakes and the delicious mortals in the French Quarter scatter to find shelter from the storm. The energy flows through this place like an electric current and I am hopelessly infatuated with its power, its eternal temper. In a small cluster of laughing females, their glossy hair gleaming with the promise of youth, their eyes sparkling and alive with grand illusions of lust and love and physical fever, I saw him. Louis DePointe. He moved with the natural romantic grace of a vampire, his limbs flowing liquidity, his alabaster face as flawless as virgin marble, his amber eyes smoldering like brilliant embers in a neglected blaze. Louis. My darling one, my greatest love and my deepest frustration. His tragic sympathy and love for mortality made him such a clever and beautiful monster. Louis had learned to detest the symphony of malice that I loved so very much. I watched him and loved him as none before or since. The sky roared in warning and the mortals he blended in so well with hunched their shoulders protectively and squealed in nervous laughter. Louis, however, turned his gaze skyward, the slightest hint of a smile playing across his chilled lips. He welcomed the storm, I knew. He had always been in love with the rain, relished its fresh, clean scent and the way it glistened off everything like a million sparkling diamonds. Such the romantic fool. The first drops of rain splattered against his black frock coat and I delighted in the momentary illusion that my darling Louis was glowing with the very light of God. He looked so divine, so innocent, so very much alive. I wanted to weep scarlet tears as I recalled Louis as he was centuries ago walking with me through the fabulous streets of Paris as went to the theater to watch the painted actors make merry mockery of life. The light of God shone brightly upon him in the infancy of his immortality. He was infused with the romance of forever, the physical strengths that came with being an unholy vampire, the eternal lust, the preternatural sheen that enchanted every creature of the night. What a marvelous sight he was to behold in those beautiful days of long ago. The sensual caress of notes from the jazz band on stage floated along my skin and ignited my senses. The piano sounded like a carnival and the horn section skidded across the beat in absolute perfection. Louis sat at a small round table drenched in thick shadows close to the back wall. A single candle dwelt in the center of the table and sent dull, yet highly enticing orange flickers of light dancing across his skin. In that instant, I saw Louis for what he truly was; a glorious fiend pretending to be mortal. So typical. So utterly sad and adorable. So very Louis. I whispered his name in the swirling cigarette smoke in the heavy air, dark, low, inviting. I did not know what I was looking for exactly, I had no preordained plan in place, no specific ideas or expectations, I just knew beyond any shadow of doubt that I was looking for something. Louis heard me. In a moment that borne in splendid insanity, he turned his beautiful head and looked straight into my violent eyes. The world stopped turning, time forgot to tick forward, life in all its ancient mysteries and wonders came to a tumultuous stop. The notes from the jazz music elongated in an erotic moan and then froze; the cigarette smoke hung suspended like it was trapped within the confines of a photograph. And then Louis stood and faced me square on and I knew nothing would ever be the same again . . .*
Posted on: Fri, 28 Mar 2014 16:31:58 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015