Bitter Bliss

Hands reach down and pull me from the strings of death, embracing me in their sweet warmth. Immobile, I lay paralyzed in my pain, tasting my bitter defeat and the blood through which I try to breathe. I can hear my rescuer's deep voice as he carries me, every step stabbing my side, every inch pulling at my lungs. I drove myself to this blinded state and now some kind redeemer will have to pay for this burden. It is in this moment that, I long to warn him, though I know it's too late. My lips ache to if it would do no good.
The moving stops and composure fills my body like a drug. I can hear the people in the room with me, debating on whether I'm dead or alive. They speak in whispered tones, a hush above the pounding in my head. They're in a dispute to burry me-and probably for good reason. My mind cries in agony to leave me be, I'm not dead as of yet. Laying in numbness, I feel as though I'm burning alive. In a moment of weakness, hospitality hits me and I twitch. Some on feels . And enough to cry, no less. Their tears fall against my skin, silently. No sobbing is heard as I feel the drops of cool serenity piercing my sorrow. Arms wrap around me tightly in an effort to comfort my dismantled body. Am I really that bad looking? Despite the fact that the hug hurts like hell, I smile weakly. It amazes me a little more than it should that this person knows nothing about me yet still finds the compassion to care for me. For all they know I could have stolen or killed someone, still, they affectionately hold me as though they've known me forever. Wanting to thank the person for their generosity, I open my mouth to speak, " you," I manage to murmur in a raspy voice. I feel the person leap back in shock, gasping-I sense their tension oh, too well. I roll my head to one side gently, falling back in to my dream state; not wanting to hear what they have to say next.
I wake up sometime later, feeling nothing of the pain from earlier. No longer feeling the pain of breathing, hair sticking to my bloody wounds, or a pounding migraine. In spite of my tiredness, I open my eyes slightly and leisurely, seeing a dark room before me. My eyes adjust quickly to it all, defining the shapes and textures of the vicinity. A massive room is in front of me, parading its extravagant beauty and pure elegance. The room is lined with bordering and arches higher than I could have ever imagined. Across from me is a canopy bed big enough for thirteen or more people. Its drapery is black and blood red, velvet and silk. Flowers are everywhere in the room. roses and ivy to be exact. A cage hangs in the corner from the tall ceiling, holding a pair of crows. Everything in the room is morbidly stunning. From the design on the floor to the meticulous painting on the ceiling, nothing has gone untouched. I look next to me, a light shining through the window and onto the floor. As I turn my gaze outside, I spot something in the distance of the remarkable garden. A boy about seventeen, sitting in the middle of the garden, playing a violin.
I crawl to the edge of the bed and stand, falling for a brief moment from loss of energy. Getting back up, I walk over to a duo of wooden doors leading outside. As I open the doors I can't help but notice the finely crafted imagine on them. A gush of wind and rain blow past me as the doors swing open. What's he doing, playing his violin in the rain? Thoughts race through my mind rapidly now, giving me no time to think. Is this place even safe, why is the garden so big, is he a witch, where am I, why am I following him out here.? I walk slowly along the bushes, trying not to be seen. It's garden stretches for as far as the eye can see. In fact, it feels like it'll take forever to reach the violin boy. Growing nearer I notice creatures of myth and danger lounging casually around the garden. Is he not afraid? There are also millions of assorted flowers that line every inch of the garden, save the stone walkway. Little stone benches are placed here and there along with ponds, fountains, columns, and other statues. Ivy grows up every wall, statue, and bench in this garden.I suppose to insure that everything is covered in plant life.
I stop and stare from behind a bush, watching the boy play. His hair lightly damped by the soothing rain and falling over his face with each note, the full moon above him illuminating the garden and all its glory. His hauntingly lovely melody caresses my ears, sending a shiver up my spine. Am I still dreaming, perhaps? Everything in the garden seems to flow with the boy's song, as if dancing. I look up to see the boy's hair unveiling his bright turquoise eyes into the night. This is a beauty that I have never seen before. I hesitate to breathe, stricken with an amazing feeling that engulfs my entire body. He's without a doubt, the most astonishing creature out of anything I've seen before. Where is this heavenly arcadia I have just stumbled into? Is he a witch, seducing me? Still, playing, he looks up and spots me from his position. His gasp frightens me some, causing me to jump back a bit. A faintly lit smile forms across his face like an open welcome and I waver, reaching out to hold onto something. He doesn't even seem real as he motions me to sit next to him, it's almost as if he were a painting in motion upon my eyelids. Without thinking I begin my short journey over, not caring if he is dangerous or not. I creep over, as not to disturb the creatures around him and he pats the stone bench, friendly enough. I hover over him but a moment then sit, my heart beating faster both from fear and excitement. He stares at me as he continues his song, his beautifully glistening eyes taunting my very life. He ends his song evocatively and sets his violin down and beginning to reach for me.