Aria in the Moonlight

On moonlit winter nights she was a common sight, or nonsight, really, since no one ever came by to see her. She was a fixture in the park, a glowing marble statue to behold and admire. She came alive every night, every winter, flickering into being whenever the moon came out from behind the clouds. She was a ghost, an apparition, that faded just as quickly when the moon was obscured by its whispery blanket. She existed in only two places, in the evanescent rays of the pearly moon, and in the young man's heart.
He didn't know if she knew he existed, didn't know if she was aware that she was being watched. He was amazed that the intensity of his gaze didn't burn holes through her already translucent flesh. He watched and marveled as she danced, as she had danced every night to different rhythms, different steps, different tunes. He thought back to that winter five years ago, when he had first seen her. He had fallen asleep and awoken to the magic of a moonlit stage and a macabre dancer, moving as shadows move between the flitting rays of silver. Since then he had returned, and how long those five years had been, when it was spring, then summer, then fall. But how quickly they had all fallen about him come winter time, when she would return to dance her ethereal dance, and he'd return to watch with his feverish eyes. After all, what is time to love? It all could've happened in a blink, an eternity could pass if she kept on dancing, and he would have been the one transmuted into statue.
Her existence was a mystery to him. He didn't understand why only in the winter, why only in the moonlight, why only at night she came alive. He didn't understand why she danced, what she was dancing for, why her eyes looked so sad...He thought sometimes, as he often reflected on her throughout the day, that she danced like a doll wound up to dance, commanded to perform and then given no choice. On other days he reflected that so much feeling was put into every graceful swing of her arm, every deliberate step that she took, that how could the dancing be anything other than natural? He only knew that he loved her, and that he loved watching her dance.
He had tried learning more about her. He had visited her during the day, touched her cold, frozen body. At first, he had felt like a pervert, examining her so thoroughly without her permission, but slowly came to realize that she was not there. From then on he felt free to go around her in circles, studying everything from the base she stood on to the intricate carving of the name plate. The language written there was indecipherable, no one could read it, but it was so beautiful in its own way that he wrote it down. He looked her up, on the internet, in the library, in the archives and in books, but he never found out anything about her. When he questioned historians, experts on the park she resided in, all they knew was that she had appeared one day and had been there since. No one had thought to remove her, who would want to risk touching such a beautiful and fragile thing? When he heard that he had almost laughed. Yes, she was a glorious thing to behold during the day, but no one but him knew the secret of what night held. No one had seen her performances except him, thanks to rumors of the park being haunted, cautions of burglary and vandalism, curfew, and the darkness a mysterious absence of security lights provided. The park seemed such a dangerous place at night that no one ventured there, except him.
What did he care of burglars and thieves, robbers or vandals? He had an addiction to her, that no one, no drug, no religious ceremony could satiate. No, her, and only her, in those dark and cold wintery nights, filled his need and replenished all the spiritual and emotional energy that he burned while thinking of her. He had been longing to talk to her for so long, it became a flame of desire that slowly consumed all his insides. Each night he went to her, watched her, but couldn't find it in himself to put a pause to her dancing, even for just the few moments it would take for her to look at him, acknowledge him. This pain, this yearning, ravaged him, physically and spritually he became thinner, weaker, until he was almost as likely to flicker away as she was. But five years is a long time to suffer this sort of torment when you're mortal, and he made up his mind at last that he would break the spell of her dance, if only for just one night. He was willing to risk never seeing her again, he didn't know if she would flee or simply dissipate into the air, like a dream that has run too long and is ending into darkness, but he needed to talk to her.
The night he chose was a night much like the others, the moon shone radiantly above him, as though smiling down on the dancer. The winter air was cold, crisp. He felt revitalized by it, he found such joy in it being winter, so addicted was he that every aspect, the night, the moon, the wintery frost he felt while watching her dance, brought him joy. He hid behind bushes, in his usual spot, spending most of the night in raw awe of her beauty and grace, trying to think of what he could possibly say to her. His mind came up with nothing for there was nothing to say, and he decided at last that it would be enough for her to just see him. Oh how he longed for her gaze to land on him, just once...
He moved cautiously, slowly, as one would approach a doe about to flee. He moved with his hands spread wide, his palms turned up to signify that he meant her no harm. He moved fearfully, because of course he was afraid of how she would react. At first, she didn't react, she kept on dancing. But as he came closer she slowed down, and her gaze fixed upon him no matter which direction she moved in (his heart could have burst with gladness at this point) until finally he was but two feet in front of her and she had come to a complete stop.
What do you do when your wildest dreams come true? There he was, standing just in front of her, a step away from touching her, and he did nothing, could do nothing. If he reached out now, would she run? If he spoke, would she break? She looked so fragile. She stared at him, her large eyes puzzled, pleased, curious, delighted, brimming with eager and innocent emotions. It was she who moved first, and broke the spell of silence.
"Hello, there. Who are you?"
She spoke! And it was as if all the world's finest symphonies and the finest composers had come together to create the melody that was her voice. All of her, everything about her, was pure music.
He blinked, then blushed. "Of course. I'm-I'm..." his voice petered out, and his mouth remained open, so in awe was he at the pure miracle of the moment.
He was surprised when she laughed, a clear, tinkling sound. It was the sound of a single christmas sleigh bell ringing through the night, an angel blowing gently on a flute. Oh what a laugh she had! He wanted to encase it in glass, and preserve it forever.
"How silly, do you not have a name? What a strange person you are..."
He almost choked, he was so flustered. Strange? Him?! "Of-of course I have a name! I was just a little surprised when you spoke, that's all. Give me a moment, please."
Her face turned serious, "I'm afraid I don't have long." She gazed regretfully at the moon, now lowered into the west side of the sky, "The night won't last much longer..."
He almost panicked when he heard that, suddenly urgent, "But you can't leave me! Please! I've been watching you for so long, and now, to finally be able to speak to you..."
She smiled at him."I'll be here again tomorrow night, will you come visit me then?"
"Of course!" He could barely gasp out the words, his emotions so full they were choking him. His eyes leaked a few tears, and he smiled at her in joy. "I'd do anything to see you, hear you, make you smile again."
She blushed, and it was like the most perfect roses had bloomed upon her very cheeks. "Will you tell me your name?"
"My name? Of course. My name is William. Can I ask what is yours?"
She smiled at him, looking as pleased as a child that has just answered the teacher correctly. "William, that's a wonderful name. So...complete. My name is Gloria."
Gloria. Of course. How could her name be anything less than glory? "Gloria." Her name reverberated throughout his mind, his soul, stamped its mark upon his heart. "Gloria." He looked back at her, remembering suddenly where he was, who he was talking to. "Um...Gloria, I don't mean to be rude, but...what are you? Why do you appear here only at night, in the winter, in the moonlight?"
She blinked at his questions, slowly thinking about how best to answer him. "To be honest, I'm not fully sure." she frowned. "I know that I am an Aria, and that once I used to come alive every night. But then...there's a darkness in my memory, and now I only know that I can only come alive in the winter."
"This darkness," William asked gently, "in your memory, is this the reason why you look so sad?"
She looked surprised. She hadn't realized, no one had told her before that she looked sad. "I...I hadn't been aware." and she thought about it, and then she said "Yes, it is, I suppose." and she burst into tears. He was so shocked, so astounded and dismayed that he had hurt this fragile creature. He didn't know what to do, he was too afraid to touch her, and so he stood there in indecision. She made his mind up for him, though, and fell into him arms, leaning into his embrace, and let herself cry protected there.
He did his best to soothe her, making all the comforting shhing noises and patting her gently on the back, but none of them worked. He was surprised at how soft she was, despite being made of stone by day. It made her seem even more vulnerable that she was made of flesh. Finally, he began humming an old tune to her, one that his mother had once hummed to him, and that seemed to calm her down. "An Aria. It's true, you really are music." He turned her to look her in the eyes. "Is there nothing, Gloria, my precious Gloria, that I can do to keep you with me, even after the moon has set?"
She looked away, tried to break from his grasp, but he refused to let go. Finally, with tears still in her eyes, she looked back into his. "There is one thing, and only one thing, I'm afraid. You must give me something, but how can I ask it of you?"
"Ask it, ask it!" he demanded. "Please, I beg of you, just name it and if it is mine, then it is yours."
She looked at him somberly. "William, my dear William. I need your blood."
The world seemed to stop. William could hear his own heartbeat, taste his own fear. Ghosts in the park? No, more like vampires. He looked back down at her, so innocent, so small and demure and fragile, resting in his arms. A vampire maybe, but she was no monster. He steeled himself, determined to prove his love. "Then have it."
She looked at him, surprised. "A-are you s-sure?" she stammered. "I don't want to force you to give it to me, please don't feel pressured. If you don't want to, there's always tomorrow night and..." her voice faded, unsure of what to say.
"I'm sure," he nodded. "Please, take it. Will it hurt?" Will I die? he thought. If I do, it will be a death worth having lived for.
"No, it won't hurt a bit. And I won't need much...no more than a person gives when donating blood, less, even." she reached up to him, cupping his neck in her hands. He shivered as her mouth touched his neck, but there was no pain, no sharp pierce as fang-like teeth bit into him. Instead, it felt like a kiss, warm and wet, and good.
His mind floated into a dreamstate, where he saw flickers of memories, people, faces. It took him a while to realize they were her memories. He saw the world changing as time passed, beginning somehow in Greece as the Colosseum was raised and then dessicated and then a ruin. He saw history passing by like a blur, and he was surprised to see some of it in daylight. In those memories there were always people, but their faces blurred, their laughs and voices mixed, and he couldn't tell one apart from another. Three times, he saw darkness. It was a darkness so terrible it filled him with a foreboding and a sorrow. It was more than darkness, it was emptiness, a vacuum, the empty spot left behind when something that was once there, something immense, has been taken away. And then, abruptly, it was over.
She pulled away from him, and she was right, he was alive, breathing, and the moon had set and she wasn't a statue. She didn't look so well, though. Her eyes were half closed and bleary, and she looked at him as though through a filter. "Your blood...it sings of love." was all she said before she passed out into his arms. He gazed down at her, smiling, thinking to himself how his blood sang for her, and slowly began carrying her home.

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When he got home, his house felt empty and unoccupied. He had lived the past five years mostly in that park, by her side. Now, he didn't know what to do with his unexpected guest. He was reluctant to put her down in such a cold setting, but his arms were tired and he was beginning to worry if she'd ever wake up. He didn't know what to do, whether to call a doctor or put her on his bed or on the couch, scratch that, if he was putting her anywhere it was on the bed, and he'd be the one to sleep on the couch. Or maybe he should just keep holding her? Luckily for him, and much to his relief, she woke up.
She smiled up at him, as a pleased baby smiles after a good night of sleep. "You can put me down now." He looked down at her, judging whether or not she'd be alright. She seemed fine, so he slowly set her on her feet, careful not to tear her dress or anything. She wobbled, and he caught her, and set her on the couch. "Is the night over yet?" she asked, sounding concerned.
He looked at her, wondering why she'd be so worried. "No, it's still dark out. Why?"
She breathed a sigh of relief "Good, it's been so long since I've seen a sunrise...I didn't want to miss this one. Will you watch it with me? Do you know a good spot we can go to see it?"
He blinked as he realized he hadn't seen a sunrise in a long time either. He used to love watching them, but then he took to spending his nights watching her. And even before then, and even when she wasn't coming alive, he had stopped, when his mother had died; he hadn't believed in sunrises anymore. But now, looking at the beautiful miracle that was sitting on his couch, waiting for his reply, he came to believe in them again. He smiled at her, glad to share this secret with her as he had no one else. "I know the perfect place."
He took her hand and led her down a hall and up a flight of stairs. He moved slowly at first, wary of how tired she seemed, but she seemed to grow more rigorous as they went and the sky lightened so he rushed on, not wanting her to miss anything. By the time they reached the rooftop the sky was a dark shade of violet on one end turning into a bright pinkish yellow color on the other. He pulled out two long neglected lawn chairs that had been resting beside the door and positioned them precisely where his mother had once put them, side by side in the dead center of the rooftop. He offered Gloria one seat and happily settled into the other, reaching out to hold her hand as they waited.
They didn't have to wait long, the sun came up in a dazzling array of color and light, turning the sky into a painter's palette of rosy hues and warm yellows and cool blues. William took it all in, breathing in the fresh morning air, watching until the very last of the sun had risen and was up in the sky and it hurt too much to look. When he looked at Gloria, he was shocked to see that she was crying again.
"What's wrong, my love? Please, don't cry. What's wrong?"
She sobbed for a few more moments, curling into herself, and then somehow managed to wipe away the tears and compose herself. He felt even more love for her in that moment, for her strength. She wiped away the last of her tears and gave him an embarassed kind of look. "Nothing, nothing's wrong, really. It's just that...you've been so kind, so generous. You gave me your blood, and then carried me all the way here, and now you take me to a spot sacred to you and your mother..."
When she saw the look of shock on his face she hurried on to explain "Didn't you see some of my memories when I took your blood?"
He nodded, still too surprised to say anything.
"Well, I got to see some of your memories too...when an Aria and a human "share" blood it is like they are sharing their souls with one another. Music is blood, you see...it is the most intimate exchange that two people are capable of. I hope you don't hate me because I didn't tell you." and she broke off and began crying again.
He looked at this sad creature before him, and could find no anger in himself. "Of course I don't hate you, I love you. I'd do it all again if I had to."
She looked back at him. "Really? I thought that once you found out you wouldn't...you wouldn't want to."
"Don't be silly." He tilted her chin so that he could look into her eyes. "Of course I would, I'd give anything to have another sunrise with you again."
"And you don't hate me? Because I'd understand, I mean, I know I do." She looked away again.
He was shocked, she had sounded so bitter! How could such a wonderful, perfect, beautiful creature hate herself? "Why?! Why would you say such nonsense?"
She bit her lip, and her voice trembled a little, but she didn't cry again. "I'm a monster, William, I'm evil. You think I'm great, because I'm so beautiful and I seem nice and lovely and all that, but I took your blood tonight, William. And that's not all, I put some of myself into you, to replace it. So you won't feel sick, you'll feel healthier and more full, but you are sick, and eventually you'll die, if I keep doing it..." She turned her gaze away from him, stared at something in the distance of space, and whispered her last words. "I've done it before, I know what'll happen. I'm poison. I'm death."
He tried to turn her face to him but she refused to look at him. He was at a loss for words. Would he really be willing to die for her, for these moments in the daylight with her? He remembered what he had seen when she had been drawing blood from him, her memories. He couldn't believe that she was so old. She seemed so innocent, so young and naive. So fragile at times, but he knew better. He could tell by the way her jaw was set as she revealed her terrible secrets to him that she was so much stronger than he had originally thought. Would he be willing to give his life for her? The answer was yes, if she wanted it, if she wanted the daylight, then yes, he'd be willing to give anything.
He pulled her closer to him, and leaned in closer to her, so close they were a breath away from kissing. "If you want the daylight, it's yours. I'll give you my last drop of blood if I have to, to give you the sun." She looked at him again at last, and just one tear found it's way out, spilling down her cheek. He caught it with his finger and put it to his lips, tasting the saltiness of her tears, the bittersweetness of them. She closed her eyes, pressing that image, the memory of such a tender gesture to her heart, hoping to keep it impressed there for all the rest of her existence. Then she raised her lips to his, and they kissed.
His kiss was warm, strong, passionate. Her kiss was light, cool, delicate. Their kisses were a play between their lips and their tongues, a dance as they touched and then separated, only to touch again. He licked her lips, tasted her mouth, and she returned, tracing the inside of his mouth and the curve of his lower lip. The two of them stood there together on his rooftop, lost in their kisses until the sky lost it's last drop of pink and the birds had already finished their morning song. They stopped, gasping, blushing at how passionately they had just thrown themselves into that one moment. He smiled and held her hand, but she frowned. Worried, he asked her what was wrong.
"You don't think we're moving into this a little quickly?"
"A little quickly? No, I don't think that at all. For five years Gloria, I have watched you dance, and I have been in love with you for all of those five years. Maybe I am new to you, and still not a permanent fixture in your heart, but you are as old to me as love is. I feel as familiar with you as though we had grown up together, you and I. As though we have been together forever, and will continue going on that way." He watched her carefully, measuring her response. "Do you think we've been moving too quickly?"
She smiled up at him. "You are willing to die for me, you said so and I knew it was the truth. You love me, you shared your blood with me, your memories, this place...And I have grown to love you too, in this short night. You're such a beautiful man, with your green eyes and ivory skin and nightshade hair, and your earnest and open face that reveals all to me, how could I not love you? Perhaps we aren't moving too quickly, merely acting at the speed of our love?"
He smiled at her, his eyes softening at her words. "You love me?"
She entwined her fingers with his. "Yes, I love you. Is that wrong?"
He whispered back to her "No, it's more than I could ever have dreamed of."
And they kissed again, a short, gentle kiss that conveyed all of their love to one another.

"It is wrong."
William sat up. He and Gloria had spent the rest of the day languishing together in William's yard, lying on a blanket and enjoying simple meals of bread and cheese and wine. They had chatted about small things, inconsequential things, until finally they had relapsed into a kind of shared comfortable silence. He looked at Gloria, who was lying spread out half on the blanket, half in the grass, soaking in the sunlight. "What?"
"I said, it is wrong. That I love you. I-I shouldn't love you. I'll end up killing you, and that is wrong."
He crawled beside her and took her hand. "Gloria, it is more wrong to live without love than to die a happy death." He kissed her hand, rubbed it between his own.
She pulled her hand out of his and sat up with her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped around her legs. She rested her head on her arms, faced away from him. He could barely hear her words, she whispered them so softly. "William, you don't have to die you know. I lied, I don't have to kill you, I don't need the sun after all. You can go on now, and forget about me an-"
He interrupted her. "Stop. There's no way I can forget about you, don't say such things! Don't you know how much you mean to me? I gave you my blood, you should understand!"
"But you'll die with me! Do you want that? I don't! I don't want to see you die..."
"And I don't want to exist without you. So what do we do?" He began tugging on the grass absentmindedly, frustrated by the situation.
"We don't do anything. I'll leave, better your heart be broken than I let you die because of me. Right?"
But the look in his eyes told her she was wrong. She sighed, lay down again, and rested her head in his lap.
"I don't know what to do." she murmered.
He didn't reply, just stroked her hair, soothing her, as though it were all okay. Finally, he turned to her, smiled. "For now, can't we just do nothing? Just enjoy each other's company?"
She smiled back at him, but it was a sad smile. "Of course. I suppose we could do that."
They both turned their faces heavenwards, watching the clouds roll on by through the blue skies.
She turned to him again. "You know, losing me in daylight isn't losing me completely. We'd still have each other at night."
"But you want more than that!" he protested, knowing she was probably right. "I...I want more than that." he admitted.
"But we can't, beloved. If we did, you'd die, and that's a price too high to pay. And daylights not really all that important to me, it's not my greatest wish." But he knew how much it meant to her, he had seen it in her memories.
"Then, what is your greatest wish?" he combed his fingers through her silver hair, so fine, like silk in the wind.
She stretched, leaned into his chest. "My greatest wish? To be loved, by someone like you, and to be...to be mortal. To be human, like you."
He stroked her hair, tugged at the hem of her dress. "Is that possible?"
She frowned, suddenly distressed. "I don't know! I can't remember anymore...anything. About where I come from, what the rules are for my existence, why they're there. I knew to draw blood from you because it was an instinct, and I knew you'd die of it if I continued to do it because I saw memories, memories I barely remember having. Memories from a long time ago. But that darkness, did you see the darkness?"
He murmered into her hair. "Shhh...yes, I saw the darkness, it's a terrible thing."
"Yes," she mumbled, "so terrible." And then she fell into sleep.

He was startled when she woke him up. She seemed excited about something, something that was making her eyes gleam. "Wha-?" he mumbled, confused.
"I've got it! I've figured out what we should do!"
She seemed so pleased with herself, it was so cute. "What should we do?"
"We should find out where the darkness comes from, what it's hiding. That's the only way we'll know whether or not it's possible for me to become mortal, it's the only way to answer at least some of my questions!"
"And how will we do that?" he asked wryly, finally awake enough to grasp what was going on.
"What-what do you mean how?"
He looked at her gently. "How will we know where to go, which direction to take? Where to begin?"
She looked down and chewed on her lip, she hadn't thought about that part. She closed her eyes and breathed in, and it looked like she was listening. Finally, she looked back up at him and opened her eyes. "My heart is telling me to go to the ocean."
"The ocean? Why the ocean?"
"The ocean and the moon have a strong relationship. The moon even controls the tides. If the moon is mother to me, then the ocean must be my sister."
"Alright, but the ocean is pretty far from here. When do you want to leave?"
"How about now?" she was so excited, nothing was going to stop her, and the sooner they started on their quest the sooner she'd have her answers.
"Now? But we're not ready. We don't have anything packed, and apart from that rather fantastic dress of yours, hun, you haven't got any clothes, and we don't know how long we'll be there."
She looked down at the dress she'd been wearing, it seems the same dress she had worn for thousands of years (she couldn't remember ever changing it). In the moonlight it had stayed as perfect as the day it had been sewn, but now, after a day of rolling in the grass and running around with William, it was beginning to look worn and dirty. She looked up at William, helpless.
He laughed at her, she had been all ready to go but then the smallest thing undid her. She blushed, and he loved her more for it. He waved a hand "It's not a problem, we'll buy you some new clothes. I've got some money saved up, I haven't bought much over the years. With you, I hadn't needed anything else except some food and a place to sleep in, and I already owned a house. You'd be amazed at how things like movies and junk food and unnecessary clothes or shoes can add up to. Once you give it all up, there's quite a bit left over..."
Five years of minimalist living (he didn't even buy gas, since he had no car) and wise investments (his parents had taught him how to invest in stocks at an early age) had left William with an extra million or so dollars. He thought now might be the perfect time to start spending his well earned cash (he did work, you know, except on those winter nights with Gloria) and he couldn't think of anyone he'd rather spend it on, other than Gloria. He was delighted to take her to the mall and buy her dresses and jackets, shirts and pants (he was having fun imagining what she'd look like in pants), shoes, socks, sandals! And even underwear, though he blushed the entire time they were in the store and was really no help to her at all (she ended up asking the saleswoman about everything) And she had fun too, pretending to be human, but not pretending at her delight in everything she saw. She loved the smell of the different foods, though she couldn't eat it, the sounds, the people all around her. She drank it all in like a thirsty man drinks water. And when they were all finished, they went home in a cab and both sank exhausted into the couch.
Gloria looked at the big pile of shopping bags on the floor all around them. "You think we have everything we need to get started now?"
William looked at her, and they both laughed. "No, I think there's still one more thing we might need..."
She looked at him, confused. "What else could we possibly need?"
He smiled at her. "Plane tickets, of course. I take it you've never been on a plane?"
She smiled and shook her head, reassured by the delight in William's face that it would be a lot of fun, like that ride in the tax-ee.
He called the airport, and they set to packing their newly bought things in their newly bought suitcase. He had spent nearly half his fortune, but he was glad he had done it for her.