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At midnight, the world sleeps, but airports exist in a pocket of time.
If I could turn the tables of time, I would have said nothing, or at least shied from the details of what I told myself was all a dream. But children are honest, and I told him all—of the woman and the words she spoke, of her embrace, and of her fangs.
I swore I lived among a sea of ghosts, of forgotten memories and stagnant stillness.
“Are you lonely here, in your castle on the hill?” Her words pulled me from my musing. Still, her hand rested in mine. “Often,” I admitted, and I smiled when I felt her squeeze my fingers. “So, you are a princess trapped in a tower? Or perhaps a bird in a gilded cage.”
I realized, sinking into my skin like a blanket of snow, how thoughts could grow unbearably loud.
“To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.”
“The stars are begging to be admired,”
Time stood still. I clung to it with all my might. But when the shadows shifted, when the sun beamed down onto my face, I felt it jostle and move again, like some ancient machine unwillingly forced to start.
Our bodies touched, though my skirts and corset prevented me from feeling her. A terrible cage, keeping us apart— By God—that was dangerous thinking.
“Darling, darling, the dark has never hurt a soul. Perhaps be more concerned for its inhabitants.”
If this were love, I wished it dead. My will was nothing to hers, I feared. But her will was nothing to God’s.
That night, I began to dream. For if it remained a dream, it could not be a sin.
“This world was not made for lovers such as us. But do not fear; instead, we shall build our own.”
Oh, my Carmilla—heartbreak remained our inevitable end, either in utter ruin from our families or upon our deaths in Hell’s great flame.
If she were a monster out to ruin me, would she not have done it long ago?
“I do not know if I believe in God,” Carmilla said. “Because it means he created a creature like me, only to condemn me to Hell from the start.” I knew not if she referred to being a vampire or her habit of kissing women. Yet the words were dangerous to think, much less say, and so I stared at her, aghast.
