The Diamond Choer

October 30th, 1995

“Your love has dawned

Living without me

My death is coming

You are my heaven”

Enter Nicholas

I awoke with a deep stirring, a longing to hold her tight, my love, my angel, my Madeira. I miss you and yearn for the time when we can be together once again...

Madeira wanders in the dark of my dreaming sexuality. Searching and stopping while the rain falls outside and the mists surrounds, I can feel her heart beating against mine. It is such an ephemeral sight to see her sleeping, this dreaming visionary before me. Every touch of her excites my skin. I kiss her shoulder cradling her body into mine. And take in her sweet magnolia scent as it entices and intoxicates me in her feminine charm.

She awakes slowly and we gaze silently into each others eyes. She smiles as I brush her hair from her cheek and kiss it. Making circles on her face as I kiss those juicy lips with the lust of a long lost lover, the desire of a thousand years of waiting and the passion of a late summer storm out in the meadow of a mountain pass. Embracing soft, warm skin, silky to the touch and nurturing in its nature. She purrs like a kitten in contentment.

Brushing my palms across her bare breasts sends shivers throughout her wanton body. She loves how I graze my fingertips across her delicate flesh. Moaning at each exquisite touch and sighing at the soft sensitivity. Mesmerized by my touch she opens herself even more and accepts me in her loving embrace.

She shudders from the sensation of my warm body atop hers. Her smooth skin is like heaven, enveloping me into the core of her sensuality. Nibbling her neck in gentle swirls of ecstasy makes her quiver in anticipation as she rakes my back with her long nimble fingers. We kiss passionately in an intimate embrace as our hands roam every inch of our coupling bodies.

I arch my body against hers, feeling our heat radiate as she spreads her legs farther apart. “I love how you feel against me,” she says with eyes closed. Relishing in this heavenly moment she writhes underneath gently massaging her supple breasts as I rub my pelvis against hers in rhythmic undulations. I grind precariously close to her sex, already wet from my ministrations.

“Kiss me again lover. Make me feel alive.” Her voice trails off in ragged rushes of air as she holds me tighter. I groan against her full breasts and kiss her fully on the mouth, tracing my tongue on her luscious lips as she moans deeply into me. “I love how you kiss me.” She flutters. “Make love to me. I want all of you my love.” Madeira hikes her knees back and crosses her ankles over the lower part of my back.

“Please, I want you inside of me.” She begs panting with succulent splendor. Her sweet nectar now flows freely from her core coating my hardening member as I rub deliciously across her creamy slit. “I need...you...inside me.” She reaches down to my cock and guides it to her opening thrusting up towards me.

“You are so beautiful Madeira.” My beautiful enchantress purrs and hums as I rest against her entrance. Breathing deeply we are awash in intoxicating arousal as our sexual instinct takes over. “Oh babe, you feel so good.”

“Oh God, I need you to enter me now. Please give it to me.” She pushes her ankles down against my lower back wanting to feel the whole of me inside her. Slowly I enter her tight velvety tunnel. “Oh, oh!” She closes her eyes and pants furiously through her gritted teeth. “Yes baby.” I thrust further into her and she winces in ravenous passion. “Oh Nicholas, this feels so good.” Our sweat glistens in the glow of our passion as I shudder in the reverence of our intimate connection.

A high pitched squeal escapes her lips as I impale her fully onto my cock. She gasps uncontrollably at the heat of our lovemaking, groaning on every thrust of my rod into the silken folds of her vagina. Over and over I drive into her with short thrusts and then long deep ones yearning for every inch of her sex, to feel the innermost depths of her soul.

“Madeira you feel so good.” I nibble her earlobe while continuing my ravishing of her vagina. Her breasts jiggle on each powerful thrust as she holds on for dear life to my shoulders and whimpers every time I hilt her. Her body starts to convulse and her breathing rampant from an escalating wave of pleasure.

“Oh, I’m coming baby.” She screams in gasping delirium. “Oh God, don’t stop.” She tightens around my driving cock as her fingernails dig deeper into my back. I ram harder, her pelvis shaking from my frenzied attack as I feel the familiar tingling deep inside me. She screams inaudibly filling the whole room with her orgasmic symphony. “I’m coming, that’s it!”

With each penetration we come closer to heaven. Our bodies entwined tightly and becoming as one. She arches her torso against mine and wraps her legs tighter around me not letting me escape her loving embrace. “Ah, ah!” She screams in delight as wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure overcomes her.

“I can’t hold it any longer!” I gasp with one final hard thrust driving deep into her. I release spurt after spurt of my come, coating her slick walls deep in the recesses of her womb. We groan in orgasm, coming together and becoming one. I collapse on top of my vixen, panting and spent from the aftermath of our intense lovemaking.

The whole scene is surreal now. Awakened from a dream or perhaps a premonition? I wonder what it would be like to hold her once again in my arms. I need her touch to quell my passion. To delight in her presence and soothe the rapture in my heart for someone named Madeira...

October 31st, 2003 - the town of St Etienne

Enter Madeira

A gloomy outcast morning greets my sleepy eyes as I look out the dirty window that overlooks the desolate town square. A gusty wind blew through the streets gathering up brittle leaves at the center of town where the townsfolk congregate for public executions. The huge imposing guillotine stands proudly, with its’ slick metal and solid wood, as if serving as a warning to those who break the town laws. I reach for my neck and sighed deeply as I feel the diamond choker that covers it, a gift from my beloved Nicholas. I half smile knowing that my neck is still intact.

A storm is approaching. I can feel the thickening air as I breathe in. My joints ached each time I moved, even a little. I dislike rainy days, because my body would feel 100 yrs old, if not older. But looking at myself in a cracked mirror I knew different. I stared at the face of one of the most beautiful women in town. My long radiant blonde hair cascades over my bare shoulders and blue piercing eyes glowed. My porcelain face, unblemished after so many years, would even make an artist cry. I look in the mirror and gaze deeper into myself as another half smile escape my lips.

I hear music playing down below and immediately open my door with quiet trepidation as the piano tones floated in the musky air and soothed my senses. Ah, he’s playing Rachmaninoff again, the beginning of Trios Elegiaque, a melancholy yet moving piece dedicated to Tchaikovsky after he had passed away. I watch from up above as his fingers seem to glide effortlessly over the ivory keys. The haunting melody entrances and serenades him as he moved to the music unaware that I am watching from up above. I close my eyes and listening intently, each passing second like a wave upon a wave, drown me in sensory passion.

I loved it when Nicholas played the piano. His music always seemed to stir the most passionate feelings inside me. He always had a way of doing that to me. And what hands! Strong yet soft, his fingertips painted emotions within me with the delicateness a painter would approach a masterpiece. A sigh emanated from deep within me as the very thought of him made me melt.

I open my eyes and he was already gone. Cobwebs covered the piano now, untouched after so many years. I was reminiscing of a time gone by and now awakened to a different time. With forlorn dejection I look down and breathe deeply. The realization that he has been dead for quite some time still carries a heavy burden on my lonesome heart.

I know that today is October 31st, but how can that be? It felt like only yesterday yet it seemed so long ago. Alone in this house I wander through all the rooms and find no signs that anyone has lived here in a long time. And it makes me wonder, who am I?

I am feminine and strong, the calm before a tempestuous storm. Like hallowed winter days gone awry to give way to the smiling romance of spring. I am mystery wrapped in ancient tongues that no mortal can understand. I am power that left unchecked can ravage even the deepest of men’s hearts and at the same time can render my innocence like children at play. I am merely a woman, who has gone unloved for too long. And I have awakened.

The chill autumn wind greets me as I open the huge wooden door to the world outside and it close with a decisive echoing thud that rattled my bones and seemed to make the whole building shake. Strange, heavy cobwebs had gathered at the edges which magically hold the door in place like thousand year old glue. I don’t remember them being there yesterday. I shrug it off and start on my journey to the cathedral.

I have a tradition to visit St Etienne every Halloween to pray at the cemetery for those who have died there. Nicholas used to come along with me until he too died an untimely death several years ago. Although still shrouded in mystery even to this day I have accepted that he is gone from this world but not completely from my heart.

I walk across the square, the imposing guillotine glistening on this cold gray day. I slowed my tempo and looked inquisitively at the monstrosity. It captivated yet terrified me at the same time. So many people have fallen from the drop of its blade over the years. People who have committed petty crimes, political prisoners and those people accused of paranormal abilities. I approach apprehensively, coming closer and feel a sense recognition. This looks so familiar, like a friend from ages ago who suddenly comes back into your life.

I look straight up to the blade that beckons to me, yearning for my neck. My petite form is no match for the sheer size of it. I clear my throat and blink my big blue eyes, my mouth half open as I gawk in wonderment. I can’t explain why this death machine amazes me; perhaps I have a fascination for sharp objects. I continue once again on my short journey, fixing my black long coat to cover my body from the cold and wrapping another layer of my black scarf around my neck.

The cathedral of St Etienne is a legend in its own right. The countless stories of so called witches and sorcery have enthralled the townsfolk to the point that they dare not step foot on the premises much less come within earshot of the mysterious sounds that emanate from the stone walls. Fallen into disrepair from years of neglect, the crumbling walls have exposed the remnants of a once beautiful cathedral.

I go to St Etienne cathedral to pay homage to those who have died there. A decade ago, a group of homeless children called the church their home. They were nothing but ordinary and possessed amazing gifts. Indeed, the world looked down upon them for their extraordinary abilities, but alas this is a world that looked down upon such capabilities. St Etienne served as a safe haven, away from the troubles of this world and the ills of humankind. But in the end, it also claimed them one by one until one remained. And then she disappeared from the magical clutches of that haunted structure, never to be heard from again. She was the eldest one called St Etienne.

Upon approaching the dilapidated cathedral an eerie silence overcame the landscape. The wind lost its luster and the trees didn’t move. Low lying fog blanketed the graveyard where a lone olive tree barely stood. The dead branches reach feebly into a gloomy sky like a prayer in vain, perhaps a request for the sun to shine in such a dreary place? The fog rolls behind me as I walked onto the ghostly property and kneel beside a gravestone.

It simply said “Madeline - September 1976.” She was the first one who died. I know it. I traced her name with my delicate fingers, closing my eyes and imagining who this girl was. Images come to mind of a playful girl. One who smiled a lot and loved to hide high in the trees. I can see her running through the forest, gleefully laughing, her long chestnut hair flowing across her face and a single flower in her hand. She stops to smile and hands me the flower and asks, “Who are you?”

“Who are you?” The voice jolts me from my memory. I open my eyes to find her big brown eyes peering over her gravestone to look at me. She could be no more than 11 years old.

“I’m Madeira. I’ve come to pay my respects. You’re the girl in my images. You’re Madeline.” I know it is her, yet the notion of talking to a dead girl didn’t alarm me.

“Yes, I am. You shouldn’t be here. They will come for you too. They know about you.” She came from around the gravestone and approached me.

“Who are they?” I stood up and took a step towards her. She answered by taking three more steps forward until we are within arms reach.

“You’ve got to know by now, you’re like us. You’re like us...” She starts to fade right before me eyes, her voice a mere whisper in the air. The translucent girl transforms into a ball of gold light that wavers in the air for a moment and disappears.

“Wait! Come back!” But she had already gone. A strange sensation overcomes me as I feel a presence hovering in the air. I smile for I know it is her. A gust of wind rustles a handful of dead leaves through the cemetery and stops at my feet. I look up into the gray sky and realize the day is almost over. Did I really pass the whole day at St Etienne? I feel the moisture in the air. A storm threatens to break and is looming over the hilly countryside. I hurriedly return back to the village as the first drops of autumn fall on my scalp.

The town is bustling with Halloween activity on every corner as evening begins to arrive with a sliver of rain. Both kids and adults alike, dressed in fantastic garb roam the streets like hooligans for it is the only night they can act like deviants and get away with it. One child with a goblins’ mask yells out an emphatic “Boo” as I pass them. Even the sparse heavy drops of an October storm can’t deter their spirits.

I turn a corner onto an empty street and immediately feel unease. I pause momentarily trying to discern danger in the shadows but I see nothing. Tentatively I resume my cautious walk towards my home, so close yet so far away. I am very perceptive to my environment and something just didn’t feel right. Quickly I make short strides to my flat keeping a wary eye on the dark shadows that surround me, passing through puddles of water. My heart beats faster as I hear whispers in the air. They seem to float around me like dead leaves on a still pond.

I arrive to the massive wooden door and look around me to see a few straggling trick or treaters braving the steady downpour. I enter my two-story flat and immediately the musky air fills my nostrils. It’s the scent of one hundred year old air that has sat undisturbed among cobwebs, dust and darkness. It felt different from when I last left. It feels much older here, like time has passed but this place forgot to change along with it. Peculiarly enough the lights didn’t come on. Flipping the switch several times to make sure, I give an exasperated sigh and head towards the kitchen for some candles.

I stop in my tracks as I enter the kitchen. I see the shadows of two men standing ten feet from me. My heart skips a beat.

“We’ve come for you.” He extends his hand and they slowly walk towards me.

“What? Who are you? What do you want?” I back slowly, ready to make a run for it. I can barely see the features on their faces. I don’t recognize them at all.

“We want your diamonds.”

I turn and run fast out of the kitchen up the stairs. I don’t hear them approaching but I close my bedroom door behind me locking it in the process. I back away slowly straining to hear any signs of their footsteps but I hear nothing. It’s as if there was not a soul in the house.

Then suddenly a huge bang shakes the door. “Let us in! We only want your diamonds!” I shook in my tracks. No, not my choker! They bang harder on the door, the hinges creaking and on the verge of giving in. Over and over their powerful whacks splinter the door and I can only watch in despair. Outside the rain falls harder as a huge puddle starts to form at the base of the guillotine. It still fascinates me even at this time of hopelessness.

Their arms break through and I can see their angry teeth through the pulverized holes of the brittle door. Nervously I fret about the room and throw a chair towards the window with shards exploding in all directions. An arm reaches for the doorknob trying in vain to unlock it. I punch out the remaining glass lacerating my hands and arms, my blood flowing freely now. I clumsily crawl out the window the rain pounding furiously onto my scalp. But their hands pull me back into the dark confines of their wicked embrace.

“No! Let go!” He wraps his arms around me as I flail about kicking at the other intruder. I’m wrestled down onto the bed, the whole weight of him landing on me and knocking the air out of my lungs. He covers my mouth as I struggle against him. I am much too small for them but still I try to wrench away from his tight grasp kicking and scratching at his face.

“Yes, such a beauty you are. Don’t make us hurt you any more than we have to. Now give us the diamonds!” I am held at bay as the other one reaches for my neck, the diamond choker exposed for their taking. Twisting about in the other man’s embrace I try one more time to free myself.

“Grab it and let’s go! She’s a strong one!” My captive yells. The other one fumbles about my neck trying to loosen the diamond studded choker.

“No, don’t take it!” I feel heat radiating from within me and my hands start to glow a light blue. What is going on? I am becoming stronger by each second and the men stop in their tracks if only for a second.

“What the fuck is going on here?” The man releases his grip on me as I stare incredulously at my hands. I raise my right hand to them as they look at awe at the supernatural event before them. A golden ball of light forms at my right hand and floats protectively before me. “What the hell is this? After her!”

The men lunge at me as the ball of light holds one of them back but the other one successfully grabs my neck with both hands and squeezes harder. I gasp from the pressure and vainly squeeze his neck in retaliation.

“Ah!” The man grabs for his neck as blood gurgles out of his mouth. Soon blood seeps through his fingers. “What did you do to me?” He falls onto the wooden floor grasping his neck and vomits streams of blood. I stand back in horror.

“I didn’t do anything,” I say innocently not knowing exactly what just happened. The other man is fighting with the golden orb missing with each swing at the elusive target unaware that his partner has been defeated.

“Argh!” The man chokes one final time and falls to the ground, his head cleanly severed at the neck, falls off his lifeless body and rolls to the feet of his partner. I screech at the gruesome sight before me.

“What the hell? What did you do?” The man stares into the dead man’s eyes looking straight back at him. Streams of blood leak from his wide open mouth. As if he himself saw a ghost. “Oh my God you’re a witch!” He screams and exits the house running out into the street through the rain and past the guillotine standing solemnly in the pouring rain.

The ball of light wavers before me and fades into the darkness. I know it was Madeline, my little guardian angel. I look back out through the broken window at the guillotine and touch my neck. I wonder, with all the strange things that have happened today, what my connection is with that killing machine. And why I feel so different from when I awoke today.