[Fiction] Oh, Madeline

By H.L. Dowless

The rhythmic melody of the seductive sirens' whispering chant rode upon the midday wind; inviting, enticing, hexing, seizing hold of mortal mind, invading the very heart, and capturing the very soul. It was a low whisper, it was at first, then it increased in its  gradual volume, until the very curiosity aroused and one's resistance to it dulled just as gradually.

This rhythm continued in perpetuity; enticing, hexing, mesmerizing, and there was no escape into the secular world without. Indeed, no matter where the physical body raced to find solitude, there was none. Be it down the street, into the cellar, into the secluded closet, behind closed doors of one's fortress walls; behold, even into deep, most dark and dreary woods, there was no escape! The chanting rhythmic song sang on the very wind, breathed into the heaving lungs, enticing, motivating, employing the brain, the legs, the arms... until there was no resistance. Here, on this very page I shall declare, any desire to fight was literally vacuumed from the soul’s deepest pit!

The legs were then forced, compelled beyond imagination, to move into a  direction with the same compulsion that a magnet bears when near the opposing end of another. Even in spite of the very imagination desiring the body at a specific destination, the legs ambled forward as though going by their own free will, in absence of the mind. The hands may grasp railings, the arms may wrap the light stands, but the allure grows with more intensity... and the eyes inform the mind of this new direction...in absence of any permission from the mind. Soon, the mesmerizing song grows in volume and intensity until every sound the ears behold...is of an eerie, haunting beckoning.

The eyes behold the sidewalk path that leads toward an ancient two-story brick home, eerily speaking of wealth and glory somewhat faded. The feet then transport the body forward, to the direction in the song of the occultist siren. Slowly, they enter into the threshold, now into the foyer, and the eyes behold the large, extravagant, upward-winding wooden staircase. The hands feel and grasp the railing as the feet slowly...ever so gradually...slink their way upward toward the rhythm of the haunting chant...that spellbinding, rhythmic chant, pulling even at the very heart and soul. Slowly..., ever so gently..., they walk..., one foot in front of the other..., until they take that last step onto an ancient creaking heartwood floor of a spellbinding candlelit hallway. Now the force of the song, the power of the melody, was so intense, so heavy, that any resistance was out of mind; no thoughts of such anywhere near. The eyes beheld a door ajar in the dreamy distance, and the ears could perceive this melodious song, that chanting, melodious rhythm, so vigorously pulling the limbs forward. The very heart raced with an intensity as though it desired to leap from its very seat so firmly inside the breast.  The mind energetically attempted to overpower the attraction of the song, the hands seized hold of the railing tugging the body backwards, now backwards toward the staircase; but the might of the song always prevailed..., yes it always prevailed..., until the body found itself standing before the door..., yes, that very door! The heart raced with tremendous intensity, to the point that the breath heaved, causing the mind to feel as though it would only cease, and the body grow limp.

The sweating, trembling hands gingerly nudged the door, and the door silently...thankfully silently..., eased open, allowing the eyes to behold this specter of a conjuring nymph, as she whispered her enchanting song, riding forth upon the heavenly wind. She sat about in a long, sable, silky, satin dress upon a large lace-covered canopy adorned featherbed mattress, gazing into a bronze hand-held mirror, gently caressing a solid gold crucifix that she bore on a chain of emerald and gold, about her pallid neck. As she spoke into the mirror, she moved her hands about the crucifix in a caressing, loving stroke of compulsion..., as though she were speaking so lovingly unto an unseen presence.

The eyes then beheld a vapor, a somber mist, arising forth from the crucifix into the mirror, then moved forth from the mirror into the room surrounding. The mist, this haunting hideous mist..., then assumed the shape of an apparition, whose form the eyes soon beheld and the mind comprehended. The form...this human form...developing to the rhythm of the chanting, hexing, song of the nymph...soon bore a chilling face, a face of intrepid evil, of wisdom but for the purpose of forever incarcerating those poor, weeping souls of the damned.

The heart raced harder and faster, the hands dripped with ice cold sweat, then the mind and the legs desired a magnificent swift escape...; but now a strange curiosity compelled the body to simply stay put, for the eyes wished to observe, in order that the mind might give divine interpretation.

The apparition then slowly turned its dark head until its face met the concealed eyes at the door. Its face was of a horrid description, so dreadful that the eyes could not bear to see, and flowing tears welled up to conceal the face that stood before them. This baneful face had a mouth, a mouth that cracked into a smile, a smile that betrayed the fact it had forced the feeble body of an unfortunate mortal to propel the soul forward into its clutches. There was no escape, nowhere to hide, and now the body stood before that evil one, that nefarious mist of perdition, of Beelzebub and those legions of the damned.

The mouth parted, for those forces of evil had compelled the heart to love, to tumble deeply into a manipulating power of adoration standing beyond all mortal knowledge and comprehension.

“Madeline,” whispered the voice from within the breast, yea, that fearful trembling voice. But her ears heard not, and her mind made no response to acknowledgment of the body’s existence, as it stood so perplexingly patiently by the door. The mouth parted once again.

“Madeline!” but still no response, only the chanting rhythm into the black stone mirror, a stone that was encased in solid brass. Her melodious chanting song still entices the soul into her somber entwine, as the carving mind beheld this vision of a greatly anticipated embrace.

“Madeline!” whispered the voice from the lips and the heaving breast, even though the demon of enchantment still stood before the body, only to smile its smile of successful capture, its eternal clutch of mortal soul.

Still no response, no hint of knowledge that the nymph was aware of this body standing concealed behind the door. That befouled nymph, that hazed, damned, tainted, bewitching nymph; but the mind was innocent! Innocent of any condemning judgment, emanating in the desire thrust upon it born from the might of the demon...and the corroding lust of mortal flesh.

The lust of the flesh now blinded those mortal eyes, and the wisdom to discern that lay within the depths of the mind. The might of scorned desire now swelled within the breast..., the increased racing of the heart, the sweating of the hands, and the tainted sweat of the arms, staining and corrupting the silk shirt of the mortal body.

“Madeline!”  whispered the parting lips, sharply on the wind, but now with more compulsion, more desire. She arose from the bedside, her body turning toward the one who stood behind the door; her eyes now meeting those eyes, her pale face and blood red lips smiled..., a beckoning smile of lucid compelling desire. Her breath blew her enchanted whisper into a stirring wind, having no discernible source.

“Christopher!”

The spoken name seemed to echo throughout the contours of the home.

Her mind knew not nor cared not about the demon who once stood before her, nor did it recall her beckoning the forces of darkness. Her pallid hands rose toward her neck, as her feet seemed to glide toward the gently opening door. Softly, ever so softly, her glittering satin dress gently glided from her breasts, now gliding upon her hips, and finally onto the floor at her gentle feet. Her totally nude body eased its way into the embrace of the mortal, who now stood breathlessly mesmerized in the opened doorway.

The door now closed by itself behind him, this mortal, and his lips hungrily embraced those lipstick adorned lips born by that wanton angel of the damned. His heart now knew no resistance, the lure of her poison was that of the luscious belladonna rose; the euphoria, the phantasm and thrill of the moment..., in spite of the demon's continuing presence! The eyes of the mortal gazed about, but the demon vaporized, and the mind sought to push the facts of what it so clearly beheld deep into the closet of deepest repression. This nymph, this befouled scorned angel of the damned, still yet singing her mesmerizing song, compelling his feet and his heart forward into her tainted embrace.

She spoke of love, behold, she spoke of commitment; she spoke only of her soul covenant with him, her forsaking of the past and all others with it! In the mind of the mortal he knew that simply by being in that very place he was sealing his own fate, the fate of his future, the fate even of his parent's contentment and joy, that elderly joy of completion and fulfillment! But he could not resist the euphoria...that carnal ecstasy...this tarnishing thrill he at times so deeply craved, and never totally satisfied. Not so much the thrill of disobeying any rules of the preordained, but the thrill of experience, the thrill of only living the mortal's life in a secular world, and simply making the best out of it.

Her house was a nest of impaired angelic bliss, of nymphs uninhibited, of those who were eternally damned, but dwelt inside the sacred bliss of total ignorance. That dreaded phantom, that angel of death, had seized up her father on the very day of her birth...or at least the one who she was told had conspired to grant her birth.

Her mother knew no limitations, made no commitments, contenting herself in the trance of roborant herbs and fruitless pondering. She sold the entrancing herb of the ancients, and the pleasures of the flesh for a healthy farthing of gold, or necklace of precious pearl, ring of gem, or diamond decoration. She bore no limitations, and so those of whom delighted in her company were compelled to repeat the enchantment, that cheer-filled tingle of a crying delight.

The crash of the clear sapphire beach, the cool rise of heavenly smokey hollows, the taste of the virgin agave, were all theirs simply by the asking; the sands of warm island shores...all for the simple asking and with no limitations. Yes...  the demon was a skillful trapper!

All the while she whispered of love and eternal adoration, that befouled, wasted nymph from tarnished mansion glory. All around were mesmerized, hypnotized by the power of her spell. The glitter of her gold silenced any who knew the truth, and intimidated any of whom attempted to inquire.

By a flowing riverside we walked for hours, speaking of time well spent, of future plans. My mind attempted to chastise my heart and my poor soul, but my heart would never listen to the urgent warning;  though the demon appeared right beside us, giving us his shadowy blessing. Though my eyes beheld it, but only to compel my mind to push it inside a repressed closet once again. When my eyes glanced up from our nebulous embrace, that wicked apparition only vanished once more again. His task was well-done, our infinite fate was perfectly secured into his clutch!

In the holy temple she spoke of saintly acts, giving chastisement unto those of whom had so blatantly violated the sacred regulations of the preordained. Her lips spoke only of acts born in the name of kindness, in the sacred name of holiness, betraying no defilement in the company of secular men. Those among the holy delighted in her presence...as she hugged the children...as she spoke such kind words into the despairing ears of the diseased elderly, and those of whom humanity both ignored and despised.

Behold, she did give homage unto the holy cross, curtsying, bowing in humble sacrilege, kissing, caressing that most sacred of books while singing hymns of praise unto the glorious one on high. In daylight among the mortals, she did praise with ardor and solemn vigor, clutching that most holy of holy books with her right hand..and with the drop of the sun, that dreaded demon of the damned in her left, who freely offered her his own instruction for her part to play in his diabolical stratagem.

Our walks facing the rising sun gave limitless delight as we strolled about near sand and sea, speaking of glory found in the past, and of our pleasure in ambition toward the future. We both had our plans, and our designs were to merge as one, each benefactor unto the other, giving encouragement when there was none to be found, offering new life to perishing aims, when it seemed there was no remaining hope.

As we lay face-to-face on those distant sands of our hearts delight, each gazing deeply into the other’s soul, with that spirit of discovered fortune seizing the lacy boundaries of her soul...and that dreaded demon of misfortune and despair seizing mine. Oh, how sly he was indeed, so sly that I was to never know until the last..that very last when all was lost to timeless perpetuity!

Oh, that angelic nymph, Madeline, thou enchanting fairy of my soul, thou grasping child of perceived innocence, thou trickster unto the masses untold. Though my mind is embroiled in a colossal struggle with my body, still I try with all my might! I cannot resist, I cannot win, my fortune is doomed to lay among those lost. Behold, there is only this fleeting moment! I hold it, and only it, in my perpetual cringing grasp. Let all the Earth hear me as I speak these words of conviction forward into the wind. She is mine, oh, Madeline, and I have her here...right now!

On that blustery wind came glorious gifts from venerates untold. There was fine wine, splendid bourbon, silk, lace, and satin. My senses tingle from the spell of frankincense, myrrh, tincture of opiates, brass, and elegant necklace timepieces of pure halcyon. Unto Madeline, ye saint of the moonlight still, only to be betrayed by the light of the day. But of thee I love all still, in spite of thy burgeoning taint...in-spite of the demon by your bedside! That demon of the damned who seeks to plunder my life and my soul, binding me into the raging fires for all future posterity. Behold, my dearest, Madeline; my mind knows thy secret plot, but my enchanted heart embraces ye still... never to let go, not even by a pleading mother's beckoning call.

It was on the dreary twenty-third of December, I so distinctly remember, that we made our way unto that decorate rose-covered cathedral. The scene was immaculate, the blooms of holy springtime filled the majestic air with their life-giving, luscious scents. The spell was cast, that bedeviled die now tossed, and my body, my dear heart and soul, knew no retreat, only my mind was left to yell. But my feet traveled anyway, my hand grasped her plush hand, graciously taking it unto my bosom, as we twain ambled down that timeless blessed aisle!

Soon we stood before the masses, facing the majestic elder, who gave us his honored dedication as we stood before the eternal spirit receiving his permission, anticipating that he will only touch us, as we speak the venerated vow. She donned the trailing white of cherished purity; she dared to don the coveted veil of chastity. She gazed forward into my very eyes, promising to honor her words for all eternity. She stood before the masses speaking her forlorn words of honor and total commitment, and they, standing as her enduring witnesses.

So, I placed that golden ring upon her finger, that eternal endless bind, only to symbolize our commitment and the pledge of our hallowed, cherished oath. She was mine, eternally mine, and we sealed our pact with that fatal kiss, that kiss of immortal commitment, both in body, mind, and in soul.

We rode away into bliss, into sanctified euphoria, into the arms of each other, across the deep blue sea into hidden enchanted lands afar. We chose a chateau on a lone hillside by the sea as our abode, intending there to dwell in endless harmony.

The days gradually morphed into nights, and these new days into weeks and months, and soon our joys were multiplied by the happy cry of our newly born son. He was all of my joy and my pride rolled up tightly into a single unit; my true love, my eternal life, and hers alike. Yea, our joys were like none other to be told, there simply exists no true picture of this heart scene any mortal words may describe.

Oh Madeline...it has now been seven long years, and where is your heart today? In the disgusting arms of the demon? Is it he, of whom has always held you in his sway? Oh, my dearest Madeline, what about our time together, our travels, our many rambling adventures and our good times? What about those bad times secular life is so wrought with, when we stood by each other to give strength and counsel when they came our way? What about our son, our glorious son, who bears a head of flowing gold and the wisdom of the gods?

Hark ye, now my mind knows of thy covert lusts, yearned for in the dreary solitude of the twelfth striking. I beheld thy treasured gifts, the gold watch, the satin clothes, and the host of Teddy bears! Though my heart and mind refuse my eyes, my mind still yet beholds the truth. Oh, Madeline! must you sell yourself to the wealthy...no? No, you did not! Your betrayal was in the very worst of ways. I know the filthy beggar. I beheld his repulsive raven arms in your embrace! May all the demons of perdition forever enchain him into the bowls of an endless furnace. You never knew I was there, did you? Oh, Madeline, you not only betrayed my faith, but what about the faith of our son? Did you not ever consider him?

My hands opened the sacred book and my eyes beheld the honored instruction, my mind then knew what it must do. My feet walked up, my face now beaming with its smooth emotionless smile. My hands then seized her by her sallow throat without warning, from some unknown avenue sprang that cherished blade...that ever-so-thin  cherished blade! My eyes never beheld the act, but my knicker-bared legs felt the steamy heat of her oozing blood as it ran down my right thigh, only to puddle upon the ice-cold stone floor beneath my bare feet.

Oh, my Madeline, what has thou now done? You have forced me to act in honored vengeance, to restore the sacred virtue of family and name, and that of our dear son as well. These walls have witnessed the act, behold, and the spirits bear our horrible secret to tell. Oh, Madeline, the choice that you left me was to forgo it; and unto my melancholy mortal despair, the truth you'll never tell.

As the midnight sky streaked with sapphire fire, a distant thunder rolled and I laboriously pulled her corpse into the nearby wood, into that most secret of brush enshrouded clearings. I proceeded to slice the flesh from the bone, then the bone from the ligaments. I completed the dreadful act in some thirty minutes, or maybe even less. Soon as this disturbing deed was completed, those grunting feral pigs came-a-running, hungrily ravishing all of the bloody flesh and the bone. Soon, not even the earth itself bore no trace. I smiled to myself in praise at my tack and skill. I have effectively done what I knew I had to do.

But the dismal months passed, and I hold not Madeline, no, not in honor nor disgrace. Oh, Madeline, what hast thou now done, to go from here forever into infinite dishonor and disgrace? How could you cause such pain to our dear son? Did you not even consider how this might affect him? I now damn you into eternal flame and degradation. Be consumed by your dark sins forever more!

Then they came for me, a group of nine emerging from the gloomy mist of dawn. My ears beheld their heavy knocks. My heart raced when they eventually rammed in my solid oaken door. They have found me, I know not how. Did the pigs tell? Did some slight speck of blood on the forest floor? Did the spirits who witnessed the crime?

My weeping eyes beheld the blue of their dress. My wrists felt the clasping bite of their cuffs, and they snatched me away into that swirling somber mist, casting my quivering body upon the cold stone floor of my dungeon tomb, as an infernal wind howled and a distant, macabre thunder rolled.

So today I stand tall here on a towering scaffold of new oak on the courthouse lawn, awaiting my turn at the fall, as a sacrificial hex is chanted by fiendish elves to usher my wretched, quivering ghost forward into a merciless rushing zephyr. As they place my head into that scratching, itching loop of hemp, my eyes behold that wicked demon who had engineered this diabolical scheme, and my ears perceive his heavy roaring laugh immediately before I plunge into a bottomless void. Oh, Madeline...  what hast thou now done...only to damn mortal flesh into the dust of the earth, and the eternal soul from heaven's radiant sun!

 H.L. Dowless has enjoyed a lifetime of outdoor activities from big game hunting, camping, fishing, and trapping, to archaeological field work in various exotic locations. What he enjoys most of all is meeting freedom loving, interesting creative people, who are also regular dedicated fans of his publications.