I’ve never been especially
good at standing up for myself, that’s something I’ve often done through my
characters as so much of writing is an extension of the artist’s own longings.
In the following two scenes from an unpublished novella “The Tortoise and the
Eagle”, my favorite character, Nixie changes her destiny in an instant as she
learns for the first time to stand up for herself.
Nixie is a young milk maid
on her father’s failing small dairy farm in 19th century
Oberammergau Bavaria. She is homely, ostracized and has crippling epilepsy. When
her uncle Snorri invites them to visit him in Munich, she is seduced by a
“nosferatu” named Woglinde and they become lesbian lovers. In my mythology which is strongly influenced
by Octavia Butler’s vampire novel “Fledgling”, vampires and humans were
separate species who were meant to live symbiotically, but the relationship was
damaged somehow into a predator prey relationship. Ideally a vampire would establish a small
communal family of humans around herself.
The treasured vampiric blood, when dosed in small, careful amounts would
have a powerful, rejuvenating and life prolonging effect upon humans without in
any way changing their humanity. In
return for this, a small human family would protect the cherished vampire
member with voluntarily given donations of their blood without the need for
hunting or violence. A symbiotic
relationship where two species take care of each other.
This mythology structure is carried
over into this scene where Nixie has awoken from her first death-sleep and
experienced her new identity and rejoices in it. As she goes down the stairs, naked and
rampantly sensuous – and for the first time truly happy to be alive more or
less – she sees Snorri, her father and Woglinde have been waiting and realizes
for the first time, that instead of being loved by Woglinde, she has been
used. .
.
“. . . She left her clothes
on the bed and went to the mirror.
The nose, once bent was
straight and even small. The lips inviting, the chin delicate. The eyes soft
and bright such as a man might be invited to fall into. Her legs, her belly, her breasts were all
equally lovely, full and curved, womanly and soft. There was no longer the awkward lumpiness she
had seen there before. The legs were
clearly lengthened in bone and stride, could leap high, chase down the running
–
- the night is dark and I am very fast,
Woglinde had said.
I will not chase, she
thought. I will not kill. I will heal.
Only heal, those whom I chose, I will be their goddess. I am the fountain, the blood and the
life. They will love me. The sick and
the old, the deserted and the lonely, I have known them, I have been them, I
will take their blood and give it back to them imbued with my magic. Mine! I
will save them all with our communion. I chose who deserves to be saved.
Silent, nude, stepping with
beauty, a long panther stride of hidden strength that came to her
instinctively. She left the bedroom,
padded to the stairs and stood a moment trying the air. She sensed each person in the dining room
below. She could tell which part of the
room they were sitting in at this moment.
Papa. Snorri. Dear Woglinde. She also knew instantly that Woglinde knew
she was there.
She moved silently down the
stairs and wondered for a moment if she might actually have become a
ghost. She listened to the voices of the
dining room and felt the particular feelings hiding behind each voice, brushed
their souls with her fingertips, perceived the anxiety in all but Woglinde's
voice.
She went down, stepped into
the light. Woglinde was at the far end
of the table and Snorri and Papa were arguing in small anxious voices. She stood in the doorway only a moment when
Woglinde turned to her. The men followed
her look.
"Oh!" said Snorri,
laughing. "Shield your eyes, old
man, she's not your little girl anymore."
Papa did not shield his
eyes. He looked at her long and
hard. She felt a great boldness. There was power in her nakedness. There was challenge in her audacity, in the
pink of her youthful nipples, the ruff of silver hair between her thighs. She walked across the room, long legged and
rolling hipped to the dining table and the room was silent. All eyes were on her and - the feeling!
Soon all the pretty boys
will bow down to worship me.
Papa rose from the table
without a word. She felt Woglinde's eyes
on her, as Papa strode over and stood before her.
"Shameless."
He slapped her face hard
with the back of his hand so that her eyes spun.
"No!" Woglinde
leaped to her feet. "Don't ever do
that!"
"Again you're parading
around like this in front of others. Are
you having another fit? Are you going to
fall down drooling again like an idiot?"
"Stop that!"
yelled Woglinde. "Stop!"
He slapped her a second time
and she felt a tremendous wave surge through her such that she suddenly rose on
her toes. Whatever Papa was seeing in
her face made him take a step back.
Papa turned to Woglinde,
eyes fevered, face flushing furious.
"Am I supposed to be afraid of my little girl now, Rhine
bitch? Is that what you've made for
me?"
"She's not your little
girl - your little girl is dead."
"She made?" said
Nixie, looking at the two men. "You
knew. When it was happening. You knew all about it." She looked around the table, smelled Snorri's
guilt in the air like bitter incense, felt the night air vibrate with
Woglinde's defiance. "Whose idea
was it?"
She suddenly felt a great
urge to go somewhere, downstairs to look for Danzer, to be away from all people. Smell Danzer’s honest horse hide, caress an
animal's honest face, something innocent, something perfectly itself, away from
people.
"I don't belong to you anymore,
not any of you. I belong to myself and
who I choose to love. You can all go to
Hell!" Woglinde came around the
table and took a step towards her.
"And you too Woglinde! You
most of all. Go die in the sun!"
She stamped up the stairs
feeling the lightness and strength in her legs; sure that if she tried she
could jump to the top step in a bound.
As she reached her room she could already hear someone coming after her.
"It was my idea,"
said Papa, stamping into the room. I
won't carry you on my back all my life."
"Nobody asked you to,”
she said, turning to him, at bay. I
don't need you anymore. I don’t need
anybody anymore."
“You have to be good for
something. Everyone has to be good for
something. A young woman like you should
be married. Should have given me
grandsons to keep up the farm. But
no! Your fancy ideas, your sickness,
falling down in public like some imbecile, like a fool. Useless girl. You cost me everything –
everything! You. Until now. I'm old. You will take care of me."
She wrapped her arms around
her bare breasts and drew the old wall around her. She felt if she could stand very still it
might all pass away and stop.
"I finally know what
you're good for. Woglinde gives Snorri life and youth. I've seen it. She will help him live forever with her
blood. I've tasted it. It's all true. Even if it's the devil’s blood, at least
you're good for something now. Even a milk cow is good for something. Now you're going to be good for
something. You're going to be my milk
cow. Through you I will live. Do you hear?"
She turned her head at the
rushing in her ears and looked at the lamp on the table. A soot shadow on the glass chimney was shaped
like a little rabbit with ears. She
looked at her hands and they needed washing. She looked at the thumb of her
left hand and there was a tiny piece of skin near her fingernail that felt a
little sore. She felt the hair on the
back of her head begin to rise. She put
her thumb in her mouth and stood very still feeling the room shrinking fast
around her.
"I never wanted a fool
for a daughter. I wanted a son! I never
wanted you at all."
"I'm sorry,
Papa."
The table cloth had a
printed pattern of little black coaches pulled by little white horses and a
driver with a tall hat and a whip and little heads in the coach windows. They were happy because they were traveling
somewhere. That was the thing to
do. To travel somewhere. Oberammergau.
The cows. The farm. She sucked her thumb and counted the little
horses as the room began to squeeze her chest.
Six horses, each coach. Happy
people, traveling. Would the angels come
back? No. The angels and her lord, she would not see
them again. How did she know? No, she knew.
"I never wanted
you! Your mother never wanted you!"
Heat rising in her
face. Sucking her thumb, shaking her
head, trying to bite off the piece of sore skin on her fingernail. "No, papa."
"You’re
a useless, falling down cripple."
Papa's voice was trembling. He
had come close to her. "Even a cow
is good for something. Well, now maybe
your blood at least will be good for something.
By god - you'll do this. Are you
hearing me?"
"No, papa." She chewed her thumb. She shook her head. "No."
The soot stain in the lamp
chimney. It looked like a turtle now
with four tiny legs. One. Two.
Three. Four. Now flying over the
mountains, now through the cold air back home to the farm and the quiet barn,
now cool with the steam of the cows breath in the morning air. No need for the eagle. No need for anyone ever again. "It's all
right, I'm sorry, papa."
Her eyes skipped around the
room. Looking at the window curtains
which blew in with the night breeze, looking past the shouting man, looking
down at her feet. The thumb salty in her
mouth. Her big farm girl feet now pretty
and light. She would learn to dance. And
the beautiful boys. The beautiful boys
would worship her and live forever.
She made a fist and hit
herself in the face.
Maybe I can make it happen,
she thought. Maybe I can call the angels
and my Lord to me and they will pick me up and fly me away.
"Why weren’t
you a son!"
"I think maybe you're
drunk," she said "You should maybe lie down."
"Bleed for me."
She shook her head. "That's not a nice thing to ask,
Papa."
"You do not say no to
me!"
She hit herself in the face
again, but the golden glow wouldn't come.
"That's not a nice thing to ask, papa. Don't talk anymore, please. You're just drunk."
"You will bleed for
me."
"No, sir. I will not."
"What did you say? Say that again."
"No, sir. I will not."
His hand swatted her fast
and hard across the face. Nixie shrieked
and bounced into the table, knocking the lamp over. She lowered her head as he stormed toward
her.
The stirring swelled in
her. A sharp eruption behind her
lips. She let it come. An iron taste that filled her with sudden
light.
And there he was.
She moved over the floor to
meet him, barely touching with her toes, moving with awkward untested power, snatching
his hair in her clenched fist, tugging his head back hard, his arms windmilling
as he toppled. She fastened down tight
on his throat and felt the teeth slip in easily and beautifully as though
choosing the first bite of a persimmon.
She hugged him close, feeling his throbbing energy, his life, spilling
into her as her brain went dull. He
pounded at her back with his fists. The beating thrilled her and she gripped
him harder. Bones cracked. She drew in a breath, smelling his sweat.
The lamp oil spreading on
the floor had caught flame.
Snorri was running up the
stairs, shouting - "I'll put her in the sun!"
Woglinde burst into the room
ahead of him and stopped at the sight, blocking Snorri at the door.
On the floor Nixie sat, off
far away, eyes closed to all, rocking gently Papa in her arms like a doll,
cooing to him. On her cheek, a trailing
blood tear stalled.
"Oh child,"
whispered Woglinde, "What have you done?"
And so it goes. I love my Nixie. I haven’t written for a while but seeing her
awakens me. I want to check back in with
her soon. Not let the light die out for
us. We love our characters because they
shw these hidden sides of ourselves.
One of the most moving and terrible scenes you have ever written.
ReplyDeleteWhen will you let me put all of Nixie's life together into a book for you and publish it?
Garce, this is just what I've been hoping you would post someday. You've posted bits and pieces of Nixie's story, but I never knew how she became a vampire, or how vampires function in her world. This is amazing. I can't imagine a reader who wouldn't openly or secretly find this scene satisfying, despite Nixie's terrible power.
ReplyDeleteYes, more Nixie, please!
ReplyDeletewooo always glad to see Nixie!
ReplyDelete