Reja 35

Have you ever had a dream so real you didn't know if it was really Morpheus's embrace? Certainly. It happened to me too. Let me tell you before you fall asleep. Or maybe you'll wake up? Never mind, there have been many legends and tales about it. Silence! Don't even murmur, or I'll order you to rip your hearts out! What are you looking at? Do you think that without ordering me to gouge out your eyes, you can stare impudently? NO! You don't need eyes, do you know why? Of course you don't... Someone once coined a beautiful metaphor, mind you! I quote: "eyes are the mirror of the soul." My smile frightened you, yes, it's sincere... painfully so, ha, ha, ha, painfully so... Don't fidget! None of my knots, ever, as far as I can remember, and I remember a lot, have managed to break free. Do you know why? You don't know... So once calm, or rather shock, has taken hold of you, I'll begin my monologue...

It was the summer of 2005. I don't remember the exact date, but what does it matter? I was on a seagoing cruise on the Baltic Sea...

***

On a small, seagoing Reja 35 yacht, nicknamed "Desire," something was about to happen that its eight-person crew, including the captain, would remember for the rest of their lives, if such an end exists...

Everything pointed to another ordinary Dog Watch, one from midnight to four. A few minutes after the head of the officer from the previous watch disappeared below deck, the starry sky instantly turned black, and the smooth surface of the water turned to fog...

***

As I recall, we were sailing near the Christianson Islands. I told my companion to maintain the chosen course, but he said the compass was starting to go haywire, and the GPS was slowly calculating, one degree at a time, from 270 to 360, or zero, whichever you prefer. We were supposed to sail west—course 270, but we couldn't because the compass was spinning in circles, and the GPS was stuck on zero—north. I won't explain exactly why both instruments weren't going haywire at the same rate, but that's not important; what matters is that nothing was working properly. At first, I thought it was another variation in the Earth's magnetic field, so I went below deck to make a correction on the map...

***

A young, gray-eyed, long-haired blond man, dressed in thick fleeces and wellington boots, disappeared below deck. In the navigation cabin, he grabbed a map and tried to correct the boat's position and make a logarithmic correction. In the "Notes" section of the logbook, he noted the malfunctioning of the deck instruments. Unfortunately, even the computer, which was used for various tricks to aid in the yacht's control, was not working. They were at the mercy of the weather and bad weather, as even by the stars, nothing could be determined. They were nowhere to be seen. Frustrated, he returned to the deck to inform his companion of the situation. They were motionless relative to the water, because the saliva spat over the side stayed with it, not moving towards the stern – the back of the boat. However, the speedometer indicated they were moving at an astonishing thirteen knots, which, with their current sail area, was impossible, even in a storm and at full speed, with this boat, it was unattainable.

"Did you turn the rudder, did you try to maneuver anything?" – The blond asked his companion sitting at the wheel. He was also blond, but with short hair and green eyes. Due to the low air temperature, he also didn't hesitate to wear a thick layer of fleece. He didn't reply. "Łukasz! Why aren't you answering?" The gray-eyed man noticed, despite the almost perfect darkness, his companion's gaze focused on a point somewhere, far away, ahead of the bow of the boat. Surprised, he approached him and nudged his shoulder, but he remained unchanged. "Hello, is anyone there? Earth to Łukasz, over!" The blond waved his hand in front of his friend's face. No reaction. He became frightened and backed away from his friend. He didn't know what to do. He went below deck and tried to wake the captain, but the captain only snored harder and turned his back to him. A moment later, he realized that everyone was sleeping like the dead and that he wouldn't be able to wake anyone. Disoriented, he returned to his friend. He sat down on the port side and focused his gaze once again on where Łukasz was looking...

***

From that moment on, all I remember is bliss. Yes, it awaits you too, it will spoil the surprise, and I'll try to describe this unearthly feeling. Oh, please, I see the spark in your eye... Okay, I'll take you first, but now listen... I couldn't see anything because I was blindfolded, feeling as awkward as you are now. My hands and feet were tied tightly to the pole, my mouth gagged. I listened. Something cold, sending shivers down my spine, flew past me. Noiseless, just that low temperature... I must have been sweating, because something cold wiped my forehead, something like a hand. It stopped at my left ear. The other one slipped under my fleece. It moved upward, towards my nipples on my chest. A finger circled one, then the other... Cold, my whole hand pressed against my belly. Cold, I concentrated solely on it. A hand to my ear pulled my head back by my hair, and I began to gasp anxiously. Near my neck, I felt a chilling sensation, certainly not breath, then a sting and pleasure, a hellish pleasure. Everything that had been cold began to burn. The knots loosened, I tensed all my muscles, straightened like a string, moaned as if climaxing, and... I woke up with ragged breaths, but I didn't open my eyes yet, as if waiting for it to happen again. I quickly rubbed my hand across my neck, but there was nothing there. The fleece was intact, like the shirt in his pants, and it stayed that way. I looked around. Łukasz was sitting as if nothing had happened, steering. He no longer had that passive look; he was behaving as he should. I straightened my numb legs and asked him what had happened.

***

"What was that?!" Gray-Eyed Man jumped to his feet.

"What's wrong? Dymek, calm down!" It's just a dream," Łukasz laughed.

"What course are we on?"

"Two hundred seventy-two, two hundred sixty-nine, two hundred...

" "Okay, come on, I don't care about general errors," Dymek interrupted his friend. He just laughed and looked at his watch.

"You'll replace me soon. My time is running out, you take over.

" "This dream is strange...

" "Stop thinking about it. Sit down, I'll put on some water for tea.

" ***

I took over the helm. By the end of the watch, we each drank two cups of tea. Before going to bed, I noted our position in the logbook and noticed something that really worried me... In the "Notes" section was my note about the instruments. I went to bed anxious. I didn't tell anyone what had happened. As if nothing had happened, I lay down on the forward bunk, commonly known as the Brothel Bunk. I was lucky, because only three girls slept there. I couldn't go to my room because the officer from the previous watch was sleeping there. Everything gets mixed up at night. Never mind, I liked it then... I allowed myself to be carried away by my dreams. I don't know what to call it, but "dreaming" is probably the best word... So I dreamed that we were sailing into a huge, beautiful, richly decorated salon. There were little angel figurines everywhere, and various landscapes were painted. Only I was on board; Łukasz was mesmerized. He sat there just as he had before I woke up. The boat docked. I was the only one who jumped out onto the polished floor, reflecting everything like a mirror. I remember being captivated by the decorations. I loved them, almost enchanted. I approached each little angel, each painting. As I walked further down the columned corridor, away from the yacht, I felt a growing sense of calm and composure. Something unusual caught my eye. It was an urn, one for the ashes of the deceased. It was the only thing completely covered in dust...

***

Smoke rubbed the tablet, and to his surprise, the date was written on it: 1830. He couldn't remember anything about that number. He'd always been terrible at history. He walked around the urn; there was no name anywhere. He looked at the wall opposite the urn. On it was a portrait of a woman in uniform, her hair blowing in the wind. He wanted to get closer, to see who it was. He took a step toward the painting when the figures' eyes began to glow, their faces took on a pale expression, their mouths opened wide, baring long fangs, and their slender hands transformed into paws with sharp claws. When the beast tried to leap at the boy...

***

I jumped up with a scream. I woke the girls. They asked me what had happened. I told them about my dream. One of my friends, Majka, may her soul rest in peace... reminded me that 1830 was the date of the November Uprising. Then the painting and the inscription in the lower left corner—Emilia Plater—froze before my eyes. I whispered the name. The other friend, a beautiful blonde with sea-blue eyes, flinched. I noticed it. She put one arm around me and told me to sleep. I lay down, and she snuggled against me... I'll never forget it, it was extraordinary... She snuggled into my shoulder, but I couldn't fall asleep. I thought about this painting and this urn for a long time, and in general, this night was still long...

***

Dymek fell asleep for the third time. This time, he stood in front of the painting, without a single figure. It vanished. He turned around. Next to the first urn, a second one appeared, undated. He approached it. It wasn't dusty; on the contrary, it reflected rays of light of unknown origin. The boy decided to return to the yacht. He couldn't see it anywhere. It seemed to him that the room was shrinking, pushing him towards the urns. Everything was gone. Only the columns and the two urns remained. The lid had fallen off the first, dusty one. Something like a ghost had flown out. The vessel fell, shattering. Instead of broken porcelain pieces, aspen pegs lay on the floor. Dymek walked over to them and picked them up, one by one. He held eight of them in his hands. He heard the scraping of feet behind him. The woman from the painting stood crouched behind him, sad and huddled. She looked at him with her auburn eyes and seemed to be crying. She gestured to the urn, on which the date appeared – 2005. A moment later, a second and third appeared, the same. The fourth, last one, was unsigned. The boy couldn't understand, he was frightened, his gaze returned to the girl and whispered...

***

...Mom! I couldn't understand why I'd said it, that's all, just: Mom. I ran to the woman, lost the stakes, I only had two left, one in each hand. I threw myself around her neck and hugged her tightly...

***

"You're choking me!" the sea-eyed girl screamed. Smoke opened his eyes. He loosened his grip.

"I'm sorry, I think I dreamed about my mother..."

"Of course, your mother, she came." Majka joined the conversation. She was lying on the other side of the boy. Despite the darkness, madness was visible in her eyes. Her smile, that smile, betrayed her. She bared her long fangs and tried to lunge at the boy. Her eyes blazed red. She grabbed his arms, tried to dig her claws into the boy's shoulders, but he felt something hard in his hands.

***

I drove two stakes into her simultaneously. I hit her in the heart. Her eyes instantly went out, something fluorescent, like a ghost, flew out through her eyes and ears, dancing above her for a moment, then spinning in a circle in the air and disappearing. Before the glow vanished, Majka whispered, "Forgive me. I forgave you." Afterward, everything happened so quickly. I don't remember how I killed my second friend, no, not the one with the beautiful eyes; she did something else. She gave me pleasure. Something infinitely better than the first experience with the cold figure. The beautiful-eyed one no longer burned; she melted me like hot coal melts steel. Yes, I was breathing raggedly, as if I'd been given an unknown drug. I thought my heart would burst, and those nails were digging into my back! Yes, I moaned with pleasure, I screamed, I saw stars in front of my eyes, billions of them, more than in the sky, finally an explosion, something like lightning, and after that I don't remember anything...

***

When the beautiful-eyed girl tore her bloody lips from his neck and crawled out from under him, she rolled him onto his scratched-up back. She slightly parted his lips and looked at them with eyes as red as a dim inferno. Her expression was sympathetic, as if she felt regret. Like a lover, she traced their line with her fingers and placed a gentle, gradually deepening kiss on them. The boys on the current watch burst into the cabin. They were alarmed by the noise coming from the forward cabin. The sight they found terrified them. Two girls were dead and one kneeling beside a deathly calm boy. She kissed him. She withdrew her head, and a trickle of red water flowed from her lips. It disappeared behind her nightgown. She looked at the intruders. Her eyes burned again, and she smiled devilishly, but she didn't attack. The boy opened his eyes, jumped up, thrusting his chest out in front of him, and tried to take a breath. He swayed sideways. After a few moments, his eyes burned with a fiery glow, and he automatically turned toward the boys and lunged.

***

I killed them quickly and without a second thought. The entire crew. Only she remained. When the bodies were overboard, she approached me. She looked wonderful, walking almost naked, covered only by a light nightgown. Her eyes were burning, but I knew they were the color of the sea. She threw her arms around my neck and whispered, "Hello, my love, now we'll always be together. Come, come, I'll introduce you to our mother." She took my hand and led me onto the deck. Even though I was wearing only the torn T-shirt I'd slept in and shorts, I felt no cold. I saw that I felt nothing. Nothing... I saw the floating corpses of my friends, expressionless eyes. I saw clearly, even though there was no moon—a new moon. Their eyes, they had such empty eyes... soulless. Ha, ha, ha! Now you know why I say you don't need them! See, see what's standing here? Two urns. Why are you looking at them like that? There were four? Yes, there were four, but there are only two, because my two friends... yes. An urn breaks when one of us dies. Why doesn't Mother have an urn? She doesn't need one, she lives in the minds of other people. She's written into so-called history... Yes, I know, you want to know why her... Simply put: haven't you ever dreamed of anyone? What? Vampires? No... we're not vampires, hmm? What are you thinking? What? WHAT?! Not what, WHO, you understand, WHO we are! We are what physics says doesn't exist in the real world. We are literary fiction, and you will become one too. Mother, Beauty, allow me here. This person must be written into the pages of legend... Before you close your eyes and surrender to fantasy, see, see, your urn appears. Now sleep, sleep, but be careful, for sleep may wake you...