Carmilla and Laura

by S.D. Simper

within the margin was written a line from Sappho, translated from its native Greek: Someone will remember us I say Even in another time

At six years of age, I dreamt my death.

I loved her, though I did not know her.

“Darling, darling—how I’ve missed you.”

I saw how she swayed. Perhaps this explained her odd affection—desperation for support, more than the impulse for friendship.

jealously gave rise to prickling discomfort, yes? “I apologize,”

Gay does tooo

It doesn’t do well to jostle a lady as you undress her.”

“In lieu of a suitor, I shall love you instead,” she said, and I heard amusement on her tongue. She kissed me at the side of my lips; oh, how the gesture confused me.

I realized, sinking into my skin like a blanket of snow, how thoughts could grow unbearably loud.

But the conversation filtered on to lighter things, and Carmilla remained safe in my lap, mine for the moment.

Have you not read of Greece? Of the history of Sappho and the lovers she kept?”

If this were love, I wished it dead. My will was nothing to hers, I feared. But her will was nothing to God’s.

Her lips touched mine. With the gentleness of butterflies upon petals, we kissed beneath the grove of trees, secluded from the world, lost in time.

That night, I began to dream. For if it remained a dream, it could not be a sin.

We were one; I prayed she’d stay.

“This world was not made for lovers such as us. But do not fear; instead, we shall build our own.”

If she were a monster out to ruin me, would she not have done it long ago?

Hell spoke of demons, but Carmilla had spoken only of love.

I immediately returned to Carmilla’s side, surprised at my own protective instinct.

No, my given name was Mircalla, and I was born in the year 1680.”

I remember very little, but the night ended in pain . . . and in my pregnancy.”

Carmilla needed to know of my love, that my affection remained. I knew not my future with her, but I knew that singular, inalienable truth—that I had missed her all my life.

“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.”

But truthfully, I sought the greatest horror of them all. Despite my denial, I courted death; I made love to death.

“Someday there may be a world for us,” she whispered, leaning closer to my lips. With my new vision, I saw each delicate eyelash as she fluttered and veiled her eyes. “For now, we shall create our own future.”