Moonbeam

Ann

I don’t know how many days passed before I saw anything again. The darkness had consumed me entirely; I was its slave, whimpering and scared in the room’s corner. Every lonely fear that had ever clutched me now had its claws wrapped around my throat.

I only knew four things. One, I loved Clark, though at the moment he was more of a pain than anything. Two, he said to me once that he would never leave me alone. Three, he now wanted me to die. And last but not least, we had fallen from grace. I wasn’t sure I believed his fable about it being my fault. I couldn’t hurt a fly, so why would I want to do anything horrid enough to forsake paradise?

As I cowered in silence, I wondered. Where was I? Where had Clark gone? Where had I gone wrong, and what could I do to fix it? I tried in vain to remember all of what was lost to me – the sensation of Clark’s kiss, the feeling of knowing he loved me, the reason he no longer did.

The rain had stopped, and I was drowning in noiselessness. It began to drive me insane, so I tapped my ragged nails on the concrete floor to make sound; I hummed random tunes to myself; I even began to talk to Clark as if he were right beside me, stoically accepting the darkness and watching me disintegrate.

“I don’t know what I’ve done,” I would hiss to him. “Tell me what I’ve done. Tell me how to fix it. Help me do it. Help me breathe. Help me…”

My visions were terrifying, since I couldn’t see them. There was no light to manipulate, so nothing but the whispers of unfamiliar souls accompanied me while I slept.

I think it was midnight when I suddenly saw. I was enveloped in sights and sounds, encased in a memory that I was slowly beginning to remember. I stood on bright green grass, so shiny it looked like candy. Around me swirled a strong breeze that patted me down, checking me to ease its suspicion that I might be harmful to the beauty that stretched before me. Great rolling hills lay drenched in golden sunlight. I looked up at the sky as it drifted closer to the sun, pressing its melting rays against the sharp mountains on the horizon. I heard birds singing in the trees that grew in my peripherals; they were happier than I was to be in this place.

I began to walk through this memory, looking about me in fascination. I felt my name being called. When I turned my head in the direction from which it came, I realized that whoever it was didn’t call me “Ann.” Their voice made a sound that I had only heard in my dreams, one that made my bones quiver. I felt a wave of calm come over me, and I went to the voice.

When I came to his silhouette against the broken horizon, I saw that it was Clark. His strange smile flashed at me, and I felt my heart throb. He spoke my true name, one that even I didn’t know apart from the sound on his lips. He took me into his arms and whispered incomprehensible nothings into my ear. I felt like a bear in the arms of a child it loves.

Then, everything changed.

The grass beneath my bare feet burst into flames. Clark threw me away, and I felt like I was being ripped in half. The darkening sky became jet black, and the mountains crumbled. Heaven was disintegrating around me.

I screamed, in the memory and in my body. I was abruptly jerked from the vision by a hand that struck my cheek. Tears streamed down my face as I scrambled away from the bright face before me. I didn’t recognize him; it wasn’t Clark. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back in front of him. I could only stare up into his black eyes.

“What do you see?” he asked me. I could feel him analyzing the intricacies of my soul.

“N-nothing,” I sputtered, unable to process what was happening.

He shook me. “Don’t lie to me. What did you see?”

Shocked, I opened my mouth. “I saw my world ending,” I whispered, being vague and precise in the same breath. I just wished that I could go back. I would have traded everything I ever had for a chance to set foot there again.

His eyes narrowed as he sat back. I felt him watching my face closely while I stared down at my dirty pants, trying to piece together that vision. Was it an actual memory, or just a dream? Something told me that dreams were less reliable, but didn’t they mean things? My trance was broken by the young man’s next question. “Do you know where we are?”

I shook my head in defeat.

I almost heard the gears turning in his mind before he spoke again. “What are you?”

Instantly, I wondered if I could trust him with the answer. Was he another fallen angel? Did he know Clark? There was a large part of me telling me that the answers to those questions were both “yes,” and only a small whisper mentioned any other possibility. He didn’t seem like the kind of person I wanted to disobey, and he had told me not to lie… “I’m a fallen angel,” I said, trying to restrain my hesitation.

A glimmer of amusement sparked in his dark eyes. “Of course you are,” he said in a faintly smug tone. I frowned to myself. He was a skeptic. “How did you get here?” he mused.

“Um…” I thought of the only thing I could truthfully say and not be yelled at for. “Clark brought me here.”

“Oh, so you remember him.” A pleased grin settled on his lips. “Tell me about who he is.”

“Well,” I searched through the drawers in my head, hoping that some scrap of information would turn up. “He always tried to count the stars. He thought that if he knew where every star lay, he owned the universe.” I chuckled lightly, letting my mind wander down the path of these memories of Clark. “They’re his favorite shape. Once, for his birthday, I got a tattoo of a star for him.” I found my fingers float to the nape of my neck.

“Is it there?” he asked, leaning to peer over my shoulder. I nodded and turned to show him. “Hm.” He licked his thumb and started to rub a spot on my neck.

“Hey, what are you doing?” I pulled away from him and scowled.

He didn’t answer me. “We’re in Seattle, by the way,” he told me as he sat back.

His eyes were glazed over by thoughts unrelated to me. He was so wrapped up in himself that he didn’t notice me falling apart at the seams. I was slowly unraveling, like the end of a robe worn too many times. The knowledge of where we were did nothing to satisfy me. There was no comfort in knowing that I was in a foreign city, surrounded by foreign people with no way to get back to where I wanted to be.

“Hey.” My attention snapped to his face, and I saw him staring at me. The light moved on his face, forming deep shadows with his breath. His skin was golden, his hair brown and curly. His eyelashes were too dark for his black eyes; they made his stare frightening. “Don’t get lost,” was the murmur he gave to me, like a gift wrapped in a crimson ribbon.

“Okay,” I replied pitifully. If I didn’t know where Clark was or what he was thinking, at least I could find solace in this man whom I had known but for a moment. There was something about him that intrigued me, the constant curiosity and skepticism mixed like soft paint with tentative beliefs. He was confused and young, and his heart was like a beacon of light.

“I’m going to go now,” he muttered, carefully keeping his eyes from mine. I wanted to touch him, but felt it was not my place. I was the prisoner. He was the interrogator. He was nameless and gorgeous and I was afraid of him.