Carmilla and Laura

by S.D. Simper

For my wife, who fell asleep when I tried reading the original story to her.

LMAO REAL

she placed a kiss upon my cheek. Her lips did not leave; instead, she leaned toward my ear and whispered. “A secret for a secret.”

“Goodnight, Carmilla,” I whispered at the door. As I gently shut the door, I heard a treasured tone say, “Goodnight, my Laura.”

“My Laura, you are as kind as you are beautiful.

“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.

Carmilla remained safe in my lap, mine for the moment. Though I knew not what that meant.

“What use have I for the attentions of men?”

real

And I felt, unquestionably, a surge of excitement course through my blood. It lit every nerve within my body, settling just as quickly at the base of my abdomen. The temptation for something I could not even name drove me to eye her lips as though they were some delectable dessert—for I wanted so badly to know what they tasted of.

“My darling, history tells of centuries of women loving women in all manner of beautiful ways. With their hands, with their tongues—no man can know a woman as another woman can. Have you not read of Greece? Of the history of Sappho and the lovers she kept?”

“And I shall never be in love with anyone, I think,” she continued, and then she leaned in and whispered, “unless it be with you.” 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. My hands settled at her hips, drawn in by her languid motions, and when her mouth parted for her tongue, the joy in my heart threatened to burst.

Two halves of a whole, she and I, and by God I understood—I felt I had missed her all my life.

And so I told her, the words fluttering from my lips delicate and damning all at once. “I love you, Carmilla.” She kissed me tenderly. A beautiful thing, to be cherished by her. “And you know I love you, my Laura.”

Carmilla did not believe in God, but she believed in me.

“Now go,” she whispered, unlocking it with her keys. Sunlight burst through the door. I stepped through, blinded by the influx of light. “I don’t understand—” In a gesture foreign to us both, Mademoiselle De Lafontaine pulled me close and hugged me tight. Skin and bones, this aging woman, yet I felt safety in her embrace. “A lifetime ago, I loved a girl in an acrobatics troupe who begged me to join her. I rejected her and have regretted it every day since. Find Carmilla.”

tearibg up

Across from her, the young woman in her wheelchair has set aside Twilight in favor of scrolling through her smartphone.

are you telling me carmilla read parts of twilight

From her cropped, gelled blonde hair to her silk, button-down top, she screams of success and subversive culture. The professor has seen her type before—intelligent and vocal, always sparking debates in her classes. The only puzzle piece out of place is the ring upon her left-hand.

LAURA??