Jealousy

“I could never leave this place.” The young man spoke in a hushed, almost reverent tone, gazing beyond the confines of a smooth pane of glass, one square in a patchwork display of the artisan’s magnificent skill. A dark, spiraling lock of soft hair slipped over eyes of midnight blue, obscuring for a moment the splendor of a late-summer sunset over the expansive orchards. A woman’s hand brushed the strand from his eyes, releasing again the smoldering intensity trapped beneath a deceptively placid surface. She smiled, her eyes following his through a shaft of rich, dying gold as the sun’s last rays lapped at the edges of countless leaves and painted them a glittering bronze.

“It’s beyond beautiful,” she whispered, her fingertips sliding along the languid warmth trapped inside the glass. She pressed her cheek to the pane, giggling as the sun’s heat spilled into her, flooding her body and leaving a lazy, sated coziness in its wake.

Tarnished gold leapt from the fading sky for one last, fleeting moment, touching every surface and reflecting in the light of their tangled gazes before slipping down beyond the horizon and allowing the moon to cast her spell over the encroaching night. She moved closer, slipping past the barrier of his arms and leaning against the smooth heat of his chest. Her hair spilled over his skin in a silken wave of fine-spun gold and deepest flame, burnished to a warm glow.

“How long has it been, Dragan, since we came here?” She knew how long they had lived here, how many endless nights she’d spent lying in the warm safety of his arms. But…would he remember the passage of time? Had their blazing, tempestuous affair melted into his consciousness, every searing touch a lasting reminder of the love they shared? His voice dropped to a rough whisper as he spoke, his lips brushing her ear in a teasing, tantalizing caress.

“How many nights have we watched the stars appear?” A delicious thrill raced straight to the pit of her stomach, sparking a restless need that threatened to shift the course of their conversation. Her eyes of clear, liquid blue swept over the tangled sheets and the imprint of their twined bodies still visible in the silver gilt of a waning moon. A soft crackle shattered her illusory vision of their evening of lovemaking, dissipating the phantom lovers and drawing a comfortable smile.

The modest fire that had broken her reverie released little heat…but cast an inviting glow over the reclining pair. Shadows danced along the wall, a distorted mirror of their movements. Dragan raised a hand, the tip of his finger trailing along her cheek and dipping into the hollow of her neck, raising a trail of gooseflesh.

“I won’t be distracted that easily,” she whispered, arching her back and indulging in a low, purring moan. A knowing grin captured Dragan’s lips as he released his eyes from the grasp of the woman before him, entrapping the moonlight in placid eyes and surveying the grounds. Had he heard something? His mind reached past the glass and out into the night, probing the swiftly deepening darkness. At first, he wondered if he’d imagined the intrusion, but--after a long moment, the raucous sound of a throbbing engine shattered the peace of comforting blackness.

The car wouldn’t be coming here…no one came here. Alderly estate was miles from the highway and almost lost amid the depths of the surrounding forest, caught by the renewing hand of nature and cut off from the world at large. Who would force their presence in this haven? Headlights slashed the deep blue of the moonlit night, flashing over the muddy, rutted road leading to the gate. A man appeared, huddled deep inside a long, enveloping jacket and unlocked the iron gate, waving the offending automobile into their world.

“Visitors,” Dragan muttered, his voice marked by a sudden curiosity. “It’s been awhile.” He rose, padding across the hardwood floor and donning a luxuriant down robe. Binding his hair into a loose ponytail, he moved back to the window, gauging the distance between their guests and the front door. He still had several moments.

The road was long and the going slow. Heavy rains had washed out much of the path and the car was having trouble. The narrow thoroughfare had been made for horses and was never renovated to accommodate the pulsing roar of an automobile.

The sound was strangely incongruous and seemed to become lost in the cobwebs of an age long past, swallowed by the impenetrable aura surrounding the massive home. Each window regarded the interlopers with suspicion, and the yawning lintel remained unwilling to offer entry, holding fast against their determined approach. A small knot of people stood on the wide steps, soaking in their surroundings with an awed, nervous fascination.

“Who are they, Alyssa?”

She shrugged, staring down at the waiting cluster of loud, chattering intruders.

“I wouldn’t know,” Alyssa said simply, donning a simple green dress. And I don’t care in the least. A twinge of jealousy raced through her consciousness, but she swiftly stifled the unusual sensation. Why should she be jealous? But when Dragan left the room and the subtle heat of his presence abandoned her, she was subject to a renewed flood of the almost painful emotion. He would be down there soon, his smile wasted on their visitors, his voice lost on their ungrateful ears. Without warning, a deep tremor coiled in the pit of her stomach and she stood on uncertain feet, leaning against the wall for support. A splash of color amid a world of gray marked each palm print as her hands reached desperately for the walls, revealing a flash of green marked with blooming, graceful buds of purest white on the old wallpaper.

No… her mind reeled, and she succumbed to a violent shaking. “No, not this time, damn it!” she shouted, shutting off the powerful influence of this ancient place and attempting to drive the racing emotions from her mind. With a startling suddenness, the door slammed and the bolt rattled into place as the furniture shook, windows shuddering as a powerful tremor rocked the room. Was it real…was this in her mind, or was the house truly reacting to her violent emotions?

* * * *

Dragan felt an odd change sweep through the peaceful vibrations of the air, disturbing the cushioned peace of their home and demanding his notice. He heard voices…they’d entered the house without being admitted, had crossed the threshold into--screams rent the heavy air as he heard doors slamming, continuing in a bloodcurdling chorus as the house closed around him, sealing off their secret refuge.

A chip of plaster flaked off the wall and crumbled to dust at his feet. A deep, impossibly loud groaning echoed down every cave-like passage, racing from one room to the next and blasting away the wallpaper…paint…plaster…paneling. This house had once served as a harsh asylum, a place of pain, confinement, and the death of dreams. As the thin veneer of a home fell away, the cold gray of blank, empty brick swallowed the warm atmosphere, plunging him into a miasma of colorless existence. “What the hell…?” Dragan lunged beneath the sweeping crash of a beam and leaned against an unsteady wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

* * * *

“Stop this!” Alyssa screamed, pounding the heavy oaken door and raging against the sentient jealousy seething in every board, every tile, threatening to spill into the air and flood her lungs, suffocating her before she had a chance to cry out for help. A palpable anger penetrated the haze of destruction, almost as if the place was alive…feeding off the spark of her emotions. She wrenched at the doorknob, her muscles summoning every ounce of strength and thrashing against the cold confinement. Casting an eye about the room, she spotted a heavy bust atop the rosewood mantle. Gathering her strength, she raised the marble over her head and brought it crashing down on the frozen bolt. The door opened barely an inch, splitting the lock and grudgingly allowing her admittance to the dangerous gauntlet of crumbling rubble, smashed furniture and a wildly swinging, shattered chandelier.

Alyssa ducked as a long, narrow strip of paneling sliced the air, followed by a massive barrage of plaster chips and furniture from the floor above. She managed to reach the stair and fought her way to the ground floor…and froze. The long, eerie passage of gray brick stretched on forever, marred on either side by the yawning, blackened void of crumbling hospital rooms. Those rooms no longer existed, her mind registered. They’d been bricked over, sealed forever to capture the pain, torment, and agony within, protecting the house from the spirits upon which it was crafted. The bleeding, tortured souls of an age long past crept from the rubble as she fled past the open rooms, and they reached for her with lacerated limbs. Countless scenes of gruesome death and heartless mutilation played out over and over as she passed, turning to glance into the thin veil of darkness hovering near each door.

In one room a child was dying on the operating table, his tiny cries reverberating inside her mind, his tortured pleas for help an outcry from the distant past. In another she saw the dim outline of an older woman, her limbs restrained by a stained straightjacket. The old woman bumped against the doorframe, rheumy eyes staring out at nothing as she began a slow, tortured gurgle deep inside her throat. The sound took root in Alyssa’s psyche, penetrating the deepest levels of her consciousness and sending a jolt of paralyzing fear to the pit of her stomach.

“Alyssa!” The voice penetrated the heavy haze of terror-stricken madness and she shook her head, slowing her gait as though caught in a thick fog. It was like a dream, as though she fought against the very air to move. The house had taken her anger and twisted her jealousy into a living thing, galvanizing the spirit of the place against intruders…”Alyssa!” She wrenched her mind free of the morass of numbing contemplation, forcing her feet to move faster. The house had risen against their visitors, had taken arms against the intrusion -- and protected its chosen.

That voice…as she neared the end of the hall, the wide, solid front door loomed ever closer. She urged herself to greater efforts, fleeing in blind panic the horrors of the past.

* * * *

Dragan managed to escape the crumbling waste of what had once been his home. He watched the house fall away to nothing and reveal the bleached gray bones of the hospital beneath, terror pulsing like a beating heart beneath the once-cozy exterior. Every cobweb, every inch of the old wallpaper had felt like home to him, as if he belonged here. More importantly, that they belonged here. The house wanted them, held them, and protected the pair from intrusion. An intense jealousy raged among the creaking timbers and a second round of screams issued from the close confines of the collapsing structure.

The visitors…the house had opened for them, beckoned them to a death far worse than any he could imagine, trapped among the remnants of a world half-solid, half-spiritual, a part of both our world and that of the dead. And Alyssa, where was she? He hadn’t been able to make it back to their room to search for her. Was she trapped amid the crushing remains of brick and mortar? “Alyssa!“ He took a step forward, about to dive into the swiftly deteriorating wreck when the door burst from its hinges, rocked by another tremor, and Alyssa spilled into his arms, thrown from the house amid a hail of debris. He staggered, wrapped his arms around her and took several steps back…his eyes never leaving the now silent house. A deathlike stillness took the place as the horrible screams gradually faded into nothing.

For a long moment, all they could see was the grim corpse of the renovated hospital, the same garish gray of a rotting cadaver. After what seemed like an eternity, the tiny, barely noticeable scrape of plaster on stone became audible and they noticed bits of the ruined house sliding across the barren ground. Planks shifted as though attracted by a magnet to the blank gray walls. It felt like they'd been watching a scene from a movie and someone had suddenly hit rewind. Bits of stone, brick, and wood were drawn back to their places along the pale expanse of crumbling wall, fitting seamlessly into a patchwork illusion that had stood for so long, obscuring the bloodstained truth beneath.

In moments, the creaking, groaning wind died down…and a deathly silence enveloped the still, heavy blanket of night. An eerie glow settled over them, cast by the sickly glint of the stars, and they took a step forward. They approached the house with caution, Dragan casting a glance over his shoulder at the empty, unmanned automobile. With an impossibly deep, shuddering groan, the ground shifted…opening just enough to remove all evidence of the intrusive machine, then closed again. The house was cleaning up, removing all evidence of their unwelcome guests.
Running a tentative hand over the solid, sound brick, Alyssa turned to Dragan as the panic rapidly bled from her liquid eyes. “It was trying to protect me,” she whispered, realizing for the first time why the house always tried to shut her away and close her off from the danger of the outside. It was protecting them, shielding them from the harsh view of the world and guarding them with a jealous, watchful eye. Her jealousy gave the house its life and started a chain reaction she couldn’t stop. Dragan caught her eyes and held their gaze for a long moment…and he knew. The mystery of their years together was no mystery to either of them, and they knew what was fated to happen every time their idyllic peace was shattered.

“Come to bed.” His voice was low, inviting, and a playful glint sparkled in the dancing blue of his eyes. Reaching out a hand, he took her wrist and drew her across the threshold, teasing her lips with a fleeting kiss. The door swung closed with a soft click, forever sealing their love from the outside world and trapping their passion behind walls of stone, wood, and the cold brick beneath.

“Tell me you love me,” she whispered to his ear, a flash of bright blue flooding her shining eyes. A low, barely audible groan passed through the foundations of the house, and the bolt fell into place with the rough scrape of iron against wood.