(book as a work in progress)

The Dreams of Frankie Cameron is a story about the struggle between the ego of the artist, the mask that we all wear and the source of his true creation, his soul connection to God. With an upcoming exhibition in Paris and a lack of inspiration and productivity, pressure is soon put on him by an art dealer to quickly come up with something new, as his reputation and that of the gallery are at stake.

Paintings // Extract of the book // Film 'The Mask'








MITCH BARRETT


THE


DREAMS


OF


FRANKIE CAMERON











PROLOGUE



THE BRIDGE




Within complete darkness there was the sound of a howling wind. Then the noise of glass shattering, as I could see the splintered fragments of a broken mirror falling towards me. I quickly got glimpses of what I thought was my own reflection in the fragments and because of vanity had once believed to be a handsome face, but all that I could see now was the broken mask of a fool.




The wind became louder, almost deafening and I felt scared. Again there was the mask, but reforming itself whilst spinning violently like a flickering coin, attracting its broken fragments with its gravitational pull, including myself who was also being pulled towards it. Then it stopped very close to my face and exploded into scattered pieces once again. These pieces remained still, for a moment frozen in time and floating on the surface of that black void. The cold black space changed into that of a whirling vortex of dark, turbid water which swallowed up the broken pieces of the mask of the fool.




Suddenly I found myself now standing on a bridge made up of fragments of body parts and looking at this repugnant water from a distance. How did I get there? Had I fallen into this water or was it just a dream. For this is the beginning and end of my story, for when it reaches that point in our lives in this world, is but a falling away and an exile into a world of illusions, that simply become dreams within dreams.





CHAPTER 1.


Then I remembered. One early morning, there is bright sunlight as I walk down a side street, which was just off the Rue Mouffetard, in Paris.Ý I was weighed down by a lot of luggage, but had an excited smile on my face.


I stopped at an old, decrepit building and looked up at the black metal steps which I knew that I had to climb just to reach the attic studio up there. That elevator hadnít been repaired for a long time, but I also knew that it would be worth the climb. Sweating and exhausted I reached the small wooden door of the studio and quickly fumbled to open it with my keys.


Just for a moment at the top of the steps, I had thought about what the artist, Delacroix had once said, ìIf a man falls from a building, a good artist should be able to sketch a man in the time it takes for him to fallî. Well, I hadnít been able to produce any work even that quick lately, in fact absolutely nothing, for quite a few months now and the paintbrushes had remained dry. My muse had left me for what seemed like a long time, but now she was back, wanted to play and I was only to willing to experiment with her.


There she was, my beautiful Tsuki, her slender legs uncovered from beneath the sheets and still asleep in bed. She had just returned from a modeling assignment and had been working for Elle, the French magazine whilst on location in the Amazon.


I am Frankie Cameron, an English artist and I have been living in Paris for quite a few years now. I was thirty-four with a small degree of success in my field, but not lately and Tsuki was a lot younger than me, not more than twenty-two, a woman-child with still a lot to learn.Ý



Her father was Gerard Dupont, a French Consulate and her Japanese mother, Hiromi, a beautiful and successful actress. They had recently decided to return to Japan to live in Kyoto with the rest of the family, whilst Tsuki, loved the wild night life of Paris, so she decided to move in with me. Although she was a bit of a spoiled child at times, I overeagerly asked her and even with unprompted thoughts of marriage in the air. It had been her heavy belongings that I had been carrying, after all she was too tired with her jet lag and had asked me to pick them up for her from her hotel apartment.


I placed the bags down and looked at my studio. It was a real mess, papers and sketches strewn all over the floor, along with books and magazines; there was also a large blank canvas on an easel next to paints and brushes that were gathering dust. There were opened wine bottles everywhere, with Tsukiís clothes and underwear thrown over a chair. Also on a desk of drawers was a small, decorative wooden box, which she had just brought back with her from her trip to the Amazon.


I opened the blinds to the window that had a good view of the city and Tsuki opened her playful eyes with such an alluring smile. Then said,Ý


ìFrankie, so youíve got my things. Great! Now we can stay in bed the whole day together, but I do want to go out tonight.î


ÝI couldnít think of anything more tempting, especially when she looked at me with such a sweet, seductive smile on her face. I had almost completely forgotten about the problems I was having with my work.


My paintings had not been selling so well lately. I was getting a lot of pressure from my art dealer to produce something different and with an exhibition coming up soon, I urgently needed to produce quickly and with a new sense of inspiration. Yet I hadnít had any new inspirations for some time and had been in such a state of frenzy the past few weeks. I had felt so frustrated with myself and hadnít made any progress with my work, but I just dived into that bed with Tsuki , tried to forget about the dates coming up for the exhibition and just wished the paintings could have produced themselves.


Whilst Tsuki was sleeping after some mutual satisfaction and release from my tension, I went over to the desk of drawers to the wooden box. Inside it contained seeds of a sacred Amazonian hallucinogen, AYAHUASCA, otherwise called ëvine of the soulí. I had asked Tsuki to find it for me, as I was sure that she would have been working with some of the indigenous people on her photo shoot and that they would know where it was. They did and she easily came into possession of it.


That night we had tried some of the hallucinogen drug and all of our senses were amplified; the sex that we had was out of this world. I was pleased with the results, but I wanted to take it further, much further and I was willing to experiment to do that.


I decided that I would try mixing the hallucinogen with a white powder pigment which I had plenty of in the studio. I had heard many stories about the drug induced effects of pigments in paint, possibly on such artists as Hieronymus Bosh and Vincent van Gogh, into being able to see with a different consciousness; or possibly even being able to see into other worlds.


I was particularly fascinated by this white powder, which I had discoveredÝ a few years ago in an old worldly, art supply shop; close toÝ my studio and in a back street off the Rue du Fer A Moulin. Luckily I had purchased the whole quantity of this powder, as I later found out that the owner had recently died and the art shop had now become a Tabac.Ý


ÝThis white powder had a special quality when mixed into an egg-tempera and it gave my paintings an unusual luminosity. I had learnt the technique from an old master from Vienna of mixing the egg-tempera and a way of painting of which was called ëthe mixed techniqueí. It was an old Venetian technique of which he had re-discovered of using egg-tempera and oil glazes, layer upon layer together.


I crushed some of the Ayahuasca seeds into a well-used Japanese bowl, which Tsuki had given me and which I also called my ëgrailí when I used it to mix my tempera in, because it seemed to glow with a divine light. I then added the white powder to the crushed seeds and if it worked it would later grow more of the hallucinogen vine from the rest of the seeds. I really didnít know what would happen, what would be the result after taking it orally, but savored the bitter taste of this old and new mixture together.Ý


Tsuki woke up again, was scared at first of trying the hallucinogen mixed with the white powder, so of course only I took it. After another delicious bout of ecstatic sex with Tsuki, I eventually fell asleep that evening and had the strangest dream.





CHAPTER 2


THE MINOTAUR AND THE SPHINX




Emanating from the dark shadows of a damp wine cellar, was the snorting sound of a wild animal. I couldnít see his face, but as he emerged from the darkness, I realized he was half-man and half-bull, a Minotaur. He was blindfolded and being pulled by a ring from his nostrils. It was an alluring woman doing this, who revealed a naked body, apart from an open silk gown and black stockings that she was wearing; and an exquisite mask of a cat.


She was leading the Minotaur to another corner of the chamber and then I noticed a large rectangular opening in his stomach, which I could see right through. I heard the sound of crying and got a glimpse of a small boy crouched in that corner. He looked scared as he tried to hide his face.


Then the cat-masked woman tantalizingly took hold of her left breast and offered it to the boy to suckle from. But instead changed her mind and pulled down the slobbering mouth of the Minotaur to her inviting, erect nipple. She laughed as the boy cried out loudly into the distance.



When I woke up in the morning, alone, I wasnít too surprised to find Tsuki had obviously decided to club it all night, because that was part of her wild character. But what had really shocked me on that morning was the previously blank canvas on the easel. It was now filled with a completed painting, the images from the dream, of a blindfolded Minotaur bound to the naked woman. She was holding her left breast, whilst inside the hollow trunk of the Minotaur, sat a small boy, crouched and holding the mask of the cat towards the woman.


I was sure that it couldnít have been Tsuki who had done this, but had I done this so quickly and in a state of being half-asleep. I certainly had no complaints about the painting. It looked like my work and had definitely come from some source of inspiration.


Immediately I phoned my art dealer. Isabella Shultz, she was an elegant and classy German woman, a few years older than me and a Doctor of Art History. During my years as a struggling artist, she had been very supportive to me, but wasnít too happy with my lack of productivity lately. Her reputation and that of the gallery was at stake, especially if I didnít live up to her expectations in the up-coming exhibition. Anyway she was busy that morning with a client, so we arranged to meet later at a favorite restaurant of ours called LíEscargot. I was too excited that day to wait for Tsuki to return to my studio, so instead decided to visit my local fitness centre, which I hadnít done for a long time out of laziness.






The fitness centre was practically empty that day. Loud music was pounding rhythmically in the background and of I was strenuously over exercising my lateral muscles on the ëpectoral machineí. The walls were covered in mirrors and I noticed my reflection, with rivulets of sweat and intense pain on my face, I looked like some tortured figure of Christ on a mechanical cross. The next thing I remembered after losing consciousness, was a peculiar dream.


There was a naked, slender girl who was dancing in front of me. I couldnít make out her face, as it was hidden by a black veil. I was still attached to this mechanical crucifix, whilst she moved her bewitching, provocative body around me. Her arms writhing upwards, like two entwined snakes, I was mesmerized by her alluring dance. All I wanted to do was touch her, but every time that she was enticingly close, she would just pull back out of my reach.


Again I glanced at the mirror catching my reflection, this time with the girl dancing in front of me. For some reason my body had increased in size, the tensed muscles feeling as if on fire, expanded and exaggerated out of all magnitude. I was now able to break free from the bondage of this metal crucifix and watch with pride as this beautiful girl stroked my body, arousing more passion and growth in all regions of my body as she did this.


Then I sensed that there was somebody else in the room. Somebody was watching us and hiding in the dark shadows of the room. I caught a glimpse of him, a small, pale and flaccid, dwarf of a man; who seemed to be trembling with fear as he had been exposed in his act of voyeurism. Actually he wasnít a man, but androgynous in appearance, a hermaphrodite, so frightened to reveal itís naked, limp flesh.


The girl whispered in my ear,


ìPlease, get rid of it. Itís really spoiling our beautiful view.î


ÝI also didnít want anything spoiling this beautiful image. So with an enraptured rage, I repeatedly pounded my fists into its repulsive soft flesh, until it lay on the floor, drenched and motionless in a pool of blood.


I later regained consciousness and believed that I could still just about see this tiny, pulverized figure in a corner of the fitness centre. He was obviously dead by now and drowned in his own blood. Then I noticed my hand that was also bleeding and a loose screw in the fitness machine. I must have caught my hand on that. Anyway, I didnít want to stay there to find out, so I hurriedly made my way to LíEscargot. Once I was there, found myself a table and ordered a coffee to wait for Isabella.











I looked at the cut in my hand, although the wound was quite deep, it had stopped bleeding for a moment. I wrapped a napkin around my hand and played with a coin from out of my change on the table. I had been spinning the coin for what had seemed like hours, looked at my watch and realized it had only been seconds. I accidentally knocked over some salt onto the table and bored with having to wait for Isabella, began drawing spiral patterns into the salt. The white spirals fascinated me, until a droplet of blood fell from my hand and blemished one of the delicate patterns. I tried to cover it up with more salt, but the stain became deeper, as more drops of blood spilled from my hand. I closed my eyes and fell into another mysterious dream.





THE FIRE CHERUBS


I was a young boy walking across fields towards the edge of a dark forest. Once I entered the forest, I noticed smoke coming from deep inside. I walked a little further in amongst the trees and the damp foliage. I could see a river running straight through the forest and wanted to get to the other side, to discover where the smoke was coming from. I decided to swim across and left all the clothes that I was wearing on the river bank, since I didnít want to get them wet.


A strange thing, as I arrived naked on the other side of the river, there was another pile of clothes just waiting for me. They were neatly folded and there was also a pair of long, black leather boots, which I immediately put on. Perhaps these clothes were the smart uniform of a small cavalry officer, but they fitted perfectly and I was sure that it was intended for me to wear them.


I continued to walk through the forest and came to a clearing, where I noticed the smoke coming from the chimney of a small and isolated cottage. The wooden door of the cottage was slightly ajar and I cautiously entered. I was immediately greeted by the welcoming smiles of an old couple, sitting in rocking chairs and in front of a log fire. As I came closer to them they became translucent and faded away like ghosts. I felt alone and dejectedly sat in one of the chairs gazing at the flames of the fire.


I became amused and was laughing as the flickering flames changed into different forms, from miniature dragons to playful cherubs. Suddenly they vanished, with one cherub left behind, his previously friendly face became that of an angry sneer and then he uttered these words.


Ý Ý ìWhy are you here? What do you think you want from here? You really donít belong hereÝ Ý and what makes you think that you have the right to wear those clothes?î


Ý Ý ìI am from the other side,î I nervously replied. ìI was curious and had nothing to wear, butÝ Ý found these clothes on the river bank and they seemed to fit me perfectly. So surely, I doÝ Ý belong here?î

Ý Ý ìThey donít belong to you either,î said the cherub spitefully. ìGet out of here. Get out!î



I woke from this dream with the words shouted, ìGet out!î but they werenít directed at me. One of the waiters shouted at a vagrant, who had come into the restaurant begging for money. The waiter pushed the reluctant fellow outside and at that moment Isabella also entered.


She was elegantly dressed as usual, she had a habit of finding any excuse to show off her exquisite legs, with new shoes which she seemed to change almost everyday. Isabella was as always busy, but could always find the time to drink a good vintage wine and also to gossip about the latest scandals in the Art world. I stood up to greet her and noticed that the wound in my hand had disappeared. Before Isabella had even sat down she asked,


Ý Ý ìWhatís new?î and looked bewildered at the spiral patterns I had made on the table. A waiter soon came over to us and promptly removed my abstract art. Then we ordered a bottle of her regular white wine and the Special of the restaurant, which was of course líescargot.




I was keen to tell her the news, but first listened to her comments. She complained that she hadnít a lot of time that particular day, as she was expecting at the gallery some new clientele, that she was eager to bring into her elite circle. Also said she was worried about my work as it hadnít been selling so well lately. Actually thought it was beginning to look stagnant, compared to some of the work of the other new and up-coming artists. So with an exhibition due quite soon I urgently needed something new.


Well Isabella, I had something new and felt very enthusiastic about it. I explained to her about the strange visions and especially about the one vision that had already materialized onto an empty canvas. During that moment I think she didnít know quite what to say and definitely looked at me like I was going slightly crazy. Then she smiled, back to her normal countenance of numbers and percentages that were running through her mind; possibly anticipating that if there was something new and unusual, then she could make it a sellable product.


Anyway I wanted her to see the painting and was sure that she would like it, but I wasnít going to mention anything about my experiment of mixing the hallucinogen with the white powder.


I went back to the studio that evening and found a note left under the door for me by Tsuki, which said,

Ý Ý ìDarling F, meet me at the Sleaze Ball after midnightî.


It had become one of her bizarre and favorite hangouts. I also discovered on the bed, the decorative wooden box which she had brought back with her from the Amazon. I had removed the ëvine of the soulí seeds earlier, as I wanted to grow them and replaced them with the new mixture of Ayahuasca and white powder. The box had been left open and there were specks of the white powder mixture on the floor.


I was worried about Tsuki, as I thought she might have tried it. I didnít know what effect it would have on her, but certainly didnít want to wait until midnight to find out.



I entered the Sleaze Ball via a dimly lit corridor lined with eerie looking individuals. As I pushed my way through the dark bowels of an underground club and with each and every step closer; I was aware of their sneering faces and hard stares, which became distorted and grotesque. It was as if they were trying to say to me that I didnít belong there.


Inside the club were a strange mixture of variants; gender benders, gay and lesbian couples, sado-masochists and extremely alluring young women, naked apart from some provocative lingerie and the masks that they were wearing.Ý


My attention was then drawn to the centre of this underground club, where there was a stage with long red velvet curtains. Suddenly there was the dramatic entrance of a hermaphrodite, the orator; he-she looked Latin in appearance and quite small in comparison to the large curtains. He-she was theatrically dressed; wearing a black bowler hat, white make-up with bright red lipstick, black stockings and a cod piece, whilst her curvaceous breasts were totally exposed. In one hand was a decorative magicianís staff and with it held high above his head, proclaimed in a loud booming voice.



Ý Ý ìThere are two sides to all of us! Such a division between flesh and spirit, has always been the deepest of mysteries to me. This war between them had caused me such ecstatic joy and such great sorrow in my life and the battleground has been my Soul. But let us relish in the flesh tonight and let the show begin!î


Then a group of semi-naked, masked male and female dancers ran out onto the stage. The music was overpowering, loud and pulsating. A huge crowd had surrounded the stage and became exuberant from the palpitating movements of an extremely erotic dance show.


I noticed one of the dancers, a young tantalizing Oriental girl, but from behind her mask, she hadnít noticed me. Her exposed sensual body, with her provocative movements and pouting lips, only enflamed a desire of lust to gratify myself inside her body. She reminded me of Tsuki, but I couldnít get close enough to see if it was her, because of a huge mass of sweaty, undulating bodies in front of me and on the dance floor, excited and obviously high on drugs.


Whilst I had tried to crawl my way through them, I realized that they could not see me, it was as if they were fixed in their own little worlds. Then I panicked, I could no longer feel my own body, I had become a translucent spirit and was elevating high above the floor. I wasnít ready to die as yet and was so relieved when I felt a hand grasp my arm. It was a young girl, she was an attractive blonde. She shook me out of the trance and with a warm smile on her face asked me,


Ý Ý ìAre you alright? And what are you on?î


I didnít know how to answer her, but was just glad to feel that I was flesh again. She took me by the hand and led me through the crowd, onto the dance floor. I touched her face, felt her warm skin and was overjoyed to be alive again. I was celebrating coming back from the dead and must have danced the whole night.


I had even forgotten why I was there in the first place, which was to find Tsuki of course. I thought I had caught a glimpse of her, but was probably mistaken, because she looked so different, so macabre and also didnít recognize me. I then realized it was the Oriental girl, the erotic dancer from the show, with her mask removed. She was standing in one of the dark corners of the club, was with a couple of the sado-masochists that were dressed in black leather and they were injecting something into their arms.


I remembered thinking at that moment, what was it to be alive? Was it pleasure or pain, or both. If I had now joined with the slime in the bottom of this pit and had become saturated inÝ

their sado-masochistic filth, then would I also become one of them? Was the struggle of humanity constant pain and torment? Or perhaps it was a desire to be reflected in the most beautiful and heated flesh? Alive for an eternity or for a mortal moment in which one could feed a hunger and quench a thirst on the juices of oneís human desires. Or was it to begin a long, slow climb up out of that pit and leaving oneís flesh behind?


I certainly didnít have the answers to those questions, but carried on dancing the whole night. Repeated images flashed through my mind. The naked hermaphrodite that I thought I had killed, lying in a pool of blood; the wound in my hand, as it was opening like the petals of an exotic flower and the old couple rapidly moving back and forth in their rocking chairs, as they quickly disappeared.Ý



Then there was another strange image, that of a peacock standing on a desk of drawers. It was trying to get a glimpse of itís own refection in a mirror above the drawers, but gave such a startling, unearthly cry, when itís image was not reflected back.


With the eerie cry of the peacock still resounding in my head, it became distorted and quickly changed to that of the phone ringing. I opened my eyes to find myself back in my bed in the early hours of the morning. The phone was still ringing and with something that felt like a gigantic hangover, I languidly answered it to the dreamy voice of Tsuki,


Ý Ý ìWhat happened to you last night? I called so many times.î


Bewildered, I replied, ìMaybe too much to drink, but more like what happened to you?î


Ý Ý ìDidnít see you,î she said apathetically, ìso stayed with some friends. Oh, Iíll be over later with the rest of my things. A big kiss to you.î


I felt like she had quickly brushed me off with an easy answer, or perhaps I really was too drunk that night to find her in amongst the deluge of that overcrowded club. Anyway I was still feeling kind of dizzy and unsteadily walked to the bathroom, where I splashed my faceÝ

with some cold water. When I opened my eyes and looked in the mirror, I was startled to find my face covered in blood, along with the wash-basin. The cut had again opened up in my hand.


I tightly wrapped a bandage around my hand and went back into the studio. I tried to ignore the deep feelings of anxiety that I had that morning by continuing to work on another painting, but it just added to the anxiety, since I was unable to concentrate. I placed a canvas on the easel, which was to be a portrait of Tsuki, taken from a sketch that I had made earlier of her.


I found it really difficult to work that day, but had instead produced something peculiar. Whilst I was trying to focus on the image I was creating of her, it had caused some strange repercussions. I was struggling as usual in the way I worked, it was the same technique which I was putting down onto the canvas, but some other force had become involved, something that was materializing from somewhere else.


I believed that I could see within her features the death-masked face of the dancer from the Sleaze Ball, transfixed as if it was in a deep sleep. Then a face that looked like it was softly dreaming became that of one in a nightmare. It was in a state of continuous change, moving and distorted as if there was something beneath the skin of the face, beneath the paint, of which I had no control over with my own paint brushes. This fluxion created something that was hideous and at the same time it was a manifestation that was intoxicatingly beautiful to me.





THE SWORD


Later that evening whilst I was taking a shower, I heard Tsuki enter the studio. She dropped the rest of her belongings onto the floor with a loud thud and a sigh of relief. I could just about hear her through the running water of the shower and she sounded quite excited as she fumbled amongst her possessions.



Ö.ìFrankie, where are you?î she called out, ìIíve got something to show you.î


Ö.ìIn the shower, Iíll be out in a minute.î I replied.


I guess, then she noticed the unfinished painting of herself, wasnít too happy with it and shouted out,


Ö.ìThat painting! Itís not me, itís another woman, so ugly! I should castrate you for itî


Then I glimpsed through the shower curtain, the sharp edge of a sword coming close towards me.


Ö.ìPsycho!! She cried out. Laughing, as she pulled back the curtain and with the sword directed towards my genitalia. Whilst standing in the corner of the shower and feeling vulnerable, I covered my groin with my hands and shouted back,


Ý Ý ìTsuki! Youíre crazy! This is not funny. You scared me!î -


Ý Ý ìAnd donít play with something like that,î I said, annoyed, ìAlso pass me a towel.î


Ý Ý ìYes, my lord and master.î She replied, as she carefully put the sword down and noticed the clean bandage on the back of a chair in the bathroom.Ý


Ý Ý ìWhatís this bandage here for?îÝ

ÝWith a towel in her hand, she added with vivaciousness.

Ý Ý ìI didnít cut you. Well not yet.î

Ý Ý ìI think I cut myself on one of the machines at the gym,î I replied.

Ý Ý ìPoor baby, Iíll kiss it better then.î She said.Ý


As I stepped out of the shower, Tsuki dangled the bandage tauntingly in front of my eyes and said,


Ý Ý ìAnyway this would make a good blindfold.î


With the bandage still in her hands, I grabbed hold of her, playing with her as I tried tying her hands together and kissed her passionately. She struggled free and said,


Ý Ý ìNow look what youíve done. Youíve got me so wet.î


With a provocative smile on her face,Ý


Ý Ý ìIíll have to take these off now.î


She began to strip slowly in front of me and whilst teasingly removing her clothes, I asked,Ý


Ý Ý ìIím curious, the sword, where did you get it from?î


Ý Ý ìItís mine,î she replied and leaving a trail of her clothes I followed her into the studio,Ý


Ý Ý ì Actually it belonged to my grandfather on the Japanese side of the family. He was given it during the Second World War, some bestowed honor for saving a high ranked officer. Also he told me that we have a long history of Samurai ancestors in our family. So Iím also very sentimental about it, because when I was a child I was taught by him how to use it.î


Tsuki was now standing before me completely naked and as she placed the bandage over her eyes, tying it into a blindfold; she said,


Ý Ý ìIíll show you something.î She then asked me to bring her the sword.Ý


With the samurai sword held in her dainty hands, she began to move so elegantly, it was almost as if it was a choreographed dance that I was witnessing.


.Ý Ý ìPerfection through discipline,î she said, ìthatís what he told me, but I didnít really listen to him as much as what I should have. Then use of the KATANA becomes movement without thought.î


The final movement brought her with the sword very close to my throat. She removed the blindfold and with a self-satisfied smile on her face, placed the sword with reverence on to itísÝ

Stand, with a smaller sword beneath it. Then with the blindfold covering my eyes led me to the bed and whispered in my ear.


Ý Ý ìMovement without thoughtîÝ





THE SAKURA KISS


ÝAs I was blindfolded, I was in complete darkness, but remember holding Tsukiís face in my hands and gently pressing her lips to mine. Whilst I was kissing her I felt like I was falling into a deep black void. I could see Tsuki coming from the other side of this void, which had changed into an abyss of luminous violet crystals.


She was holding in her hands an orchid flower and from its open petals, droplets of sweet nectar fell to her inviting lips. Over her closed eyes, I could see myself transformed into a butterfly.


Then poetic words floated through my mind.


ëYou came from the abyss of violet crystals and holding in your hands an orchid flower. From its open petals, droplets of sweet nectar fell to your inviting lips. And over your closed eyes, as a butterfly I came to kiss those lips and to open your eyes. I could hear myself as I whispered to her,


Ý Ý ìTo kiss those lips and to open such eyes.î



I quickly removed the blindfold from my eyes and looked at Tsuki, smiling radiantly and on top of me, as her long hair brushed across my face. I also noticed that there was a smear of blood on her cheek from the wound in my palm.



I decided to go to the gallery the next morning with Tsuki, but we were unable to get a taxi, as the narrow street had become swollen with people in a festive spirit. Rap music boomed loudly as party goers from the previous night spilled off the sidewalks. We struggled and pushed our way through, only to be swallowed up into the vibrant carnival.


The unruly crowd was extremely noisy, shouting, dancing, beating drums and wearing bright colorful costumes with unusual decorative masks. Charged up by the crowd, there was a clown, spinning his colorful cape made up of mirrors and sequins.


The exuberant costumes became more grandiose. There were figures which towered high above us standing on three stilts, wearing huge striped blue and yellow costumes with pointed hats and painted harlequin faces.


Old people watched from their windows and babies in strollers sat by gutters strewn with beer cans. There was even somebody dressed as a Cardinal, holding his hooked staff and escorted by two virginal maidens and they were handing out condoms from their baskets, as if they were giving out spring flowers.


Suddenly Tsuki was grabbed hold of by one of the masked figures, a grotesque creature covered in fur and wearing a gruesome mask with exaggerated features. There masks were more like bloated caricatures than actual faces and they had been strutting up and down the street, clinking cattle bells that were attached to their necks. I tried to pull her out of his grasp, but Tsuki was high-spirited and amused by the whole escapade. With joyful laughter, she was easily dragged away from me. I caught a glimpse of her on the other side of the street and couldnít help thinking that she looked so helpless, like a little toy boat on a turbulent ocean, just swayed along by a sea of masked faces.


Even though I frantically tried to reach her, I was held back by the surging carnival as she disappeared into the seething mass. I shouted after her, but to no avail, it was impossible to hear anything except the roaring sound of the carnival.


The noise of the crowd became magnified in my ears and it became unbearable. My skin was covered in a cold layer of sweat and I felt uncomfortable. I was stifled, trapped and found it difficult to breathe. I stumbled to the floor and was trampled underfoot by the unrestrained crowd, as they moved on governed by some herd instinct. Then there was enshrouding blackness, followed by another dream-like vision.





VOICES


I saw myself kneeling down with my hands over my face like a frightened child, naked and alone in this black void. Ghostly apparitions emerged from out of the darkness, I could feel their presence, as if I was being exposed to a cold harsh wind.


I looked up as I was swamped in a malicious, murky, blue haze of twisted forms, which were hovering all around me. Sounds of anger and contention came from their blurred, disfigured faces. Icy thrusts of venomous, savagely vindictive words penetrated my soul. Followed by raucous laughter and a howling of derangement.


Their grimacing and distorted, malformed faces came disturbingly close to mine. I covered my ears to shut out their amplified, tormenting, screaming VOICES, but their vicious, cruel, assaulting words echoed in my mind. I could still hear them, screeching with insane delight and howls of savage mirth enveloped me as my face also became contorted in pain, for the noise was no longer bearable. Dark thoughts swarmed through my mind, then I heard a gentle voice whisper,


Ý Ý ìDo you need some help?î


I realized that I must have blacked out and leaning over me in the bright sunlight was an attractive colored woman and a small crowd of people. She was holding in her hands a bottleÝ

of mineral water, which she gave me to drink from. I was thirsty and after she had helped me to sit up, eagerly drank the clear, refreshing water.


Ý Ý ìI must have fallen.î I said.


Ý Ý ìDo you need a doctor, or do you want to rest for a while?î she asked. ìMy name isÝ Ý Angelina Meridiana and my shop is just across the street.î


She pointed in the direction of her shop. It was called ëAstral Worldí and had in the window mystical and spiritual merchandise. I handed the bottle of water back to her and said,


Ý Ý ìThank you. Iím okay now.î


Ý Ý ìWhy donít you come in for a Tarot reading?î she asked with a benevolent expression on her face. I felt slightly embarrassed and answered,


Ý Ý ìPerhaps, some other time.î


Ý Ý ìWhen you want some answers then,î she replied,Ý ìbut time doesnít mean anything at all in the spiritual realm.î


I unsteadily got up from the ground and dusted off my jacket. Then wearily made my way to the gallery, where I hoped I would find Tsuki.





DISTORTED TIME




As I approached the gallery, I noticed on display in the large window a painting which was of a similar style to mine. I was even more startled to see that the figures in the painting were a direct materialization from my recent blackout. Furthermore on closer inspection, there was even my signature and a title to the painting of which it was called ëVoicesí. What was this?


I was dumbfounded as I entered the gallery. I walked unsteadily towards Isabella along a corridor of surreal modern paintings and unusual figurative sculptures. The RA gallery had the interior character of an Egyptian temple which contained modern, symbolic artifacts.


Isabella had her back to me and was talking to what I guessed was a prospective client. A tall woman, elegantly dressed and with rich, shoulder-length auburn hair. She glanced at me with mischievous, pretty turquoise blue eyes and an enticing, yet imperious smile on her face, then quickly turned away and continued her conversation with Isabella. I was enraptured by her ravishing beauty.Ý


She was in her late twenties, or perhaps even her early thirties, but whatever age she was, she had a face to give ones life for and a slender, pale skinned body, which oozed with feminine, sexual charm. So much so, that I immediately straightened up and for a moment had almost forgotten about the questioning dilemma of the painting and the whereabouts of my beloved Tsuki.


Isabella turned to greet me,Ý


Ý Ý ìComme ca va, Frankie?î briskly kissed me on the cheeks and asked,


Ý Ý ìWhat kept you? Sephone was absolutely dying to meet you.îÝ


Then stepping back she looked me up and down, scrutinizing and said,Ý


Ý Ý ìWhat happened to you? You look awful and I had just been saying to Sephone what aÝ Ý handsome you are.î


I felt irritated by Isabellaís shallow remark and replied,


ÝÝ Ý ìThanks a lot, but I just blacked out in the street a little while ago and also lost Tsuki.Ý Ý Have you seen her?î


Ý Ý ìNo I havenít, not since her trip,î said Isabella and a bit more concerned asked,


Ý Ý ìBut are you okay now?î


Ý Ý ìYes, I think so,î I replied, ìAnd what about the painting in the window?î


Ý Ý ìWhat about it?î asked Isabella, surprised ìItís a compelling piece of work.î


ÝÝ ìI donít remember painting it.î I replied.


Ý Ý ìAre you sure that you are okay?î asked Isabella, with an amused expression on her face. Then they both laughed.


I was embarrassed, I really couldnít make any sense out of it, but smiled and acted as if it was just part of my usual sparkling wit.


Sephone seemed to enjoy the whole caper and greeted me by placing her hand seductively into mine for me to kiss. I brought her graceful hand close to my lips and said,


Ý Ý ìEnchante Madmoiselle.î As I kissed her hand I noticed a magnificent, dazzling wedding ring, that must have cost an arm and a leg. Whose I had no idea?


Ý Ý ìMy husband is a great admirer of your paintings, and so am I,î said Sephone. ìActually, IÝ Ý saw some of your work in Berlin and wanted to meet the talent behind such poetic images.î


I couldnít help thinking that I had seen Sephone before and asked,


Ý Ý ìAre you sure that we havenít met before?î


Ý Ý ìAbsolutely,î she replied, then with a demure smile, added ìalthough my face has been onÝ a few magazine covers in Europe, as I was quite a successful model at one time.î


Ý Ý ìDonít be so modest darling, you still are.î said Isabella.


I had to quickly add some more charm of my own to the situation, as I realized I was in the presence of a lustrous star and replied,


Ý Ý ìBut then again, if we had met, how could I possibly have forgotten such a beautifulÝ Ý woman.î


Ý Ý ìActually,î said Isabella, ìSephone mentioned, that she would like to commission you to do a painting of her, which is a present for her husband.î


I was so captivated by Sephone, that I couldnít think of anything more fabulous than being able to spend some more time with her and replied,


Ý Ý ì Of course,I would love to.î


Ý Ý ìIs it something we could discuss further over dinner?î Sephone proposed. ìAre you free tomorrow evening, say at eight?î


Ý Ý ì That sounds perfect.î I replied.


Ý Ý ìAnyway, Iíve left my card on Isabellaís desk, so you can give me a call anytime.î said Sephone.


She smiled invitingly at me, as once more she held out her hand for me to kiss, of course I eagerly obeyed her gesture and then she kissed Isabella on the cheek and left. My eyes followed her smooth exit and I whispered to myself,


Ý Ý ëYes, I would love to paint her and such a delight to paint her in the nude.í


Isabella looked at me, obviously aware of my lecherous expression and seemed delighted with herself, after her successful introduction.



I opened the door to the studio and could see Tsuki lounging on the floor, semi-naked, with her back to me and in front of the television. She seemed unaware as I entered the room, mesmerized by some psychedelic video clip on the T.V.


Ý Ý ìHi darling,î I said. ìYou wouldnít believe what I saw in the gallery? -A painting of mine which seemed to appear out of nowhere.î


I felt a little foolish after that remark as Tsuki laughed and replied,


Ý Ý ìAnother painting out of nowhere. - I like this nowhere.î


I then noticed that again on the bed, was the open wooden box containing the white powder mixture.


Ý Ý ìTsuki, how much did you take of that drug?î


Tsuki didnít answer, but turned and smiled with a dreamy look in her inviting eyes. In one of her hands she was holding a bunch of ripened black grapes. She leisurely brought the grapes close to her mouth and squeezed some of them, letting the cool juice run down from her open, sensual lips to her petite, appetizing breasts.


She must have noticed my lustful expression as she provocatively asked,Ý


Ý Ý ìDid you get a good view from up there, my lord?î


Then with a playful smile on her face, picked one of the larger grapes, rolled it on her tongue and then slowly around one of her erect nipples, teasing it between her thumb and forefinger. My jeans were beginning to feel uncomfortably tight, as it wasnít only her nipples that were erect, since the performance had only just begun.


Standing over her, she unbuckled my belt, then the zip, reached into my briefs, clasped my member and pulled it out. Tsuki looked up at me, licked her lips and said,


Ý Ý ìIím still hungry, my darling.î


She devoured me into her throat, slow movements at first and deep. Then more quickly, until I almost came. Then slowly again, working unbelievable miracles with her tongue, which had now found my testicles. The sensation drove me wild, she was taking me to such a heightened state of euphoria.Ý


Her nubile body was such a delight in my hands, as I squeezed her exquisite, tender breasts. I grabbed her long dark her as she gazed at me in rapture and milked me high.


With her hand she wiped her mouth, as there was still much more to come and with the rich, milky liquid still on it, reached into her slinky, black lace panties, stroking her delicate fur divide. When she was almost satisfied, she removed her panties, picked another grape and pressed it in between her other luscious wet lips. Then with her long delicate fingers, played with the grape, rolling it around and parting those juicy lips as it went deeper inside her.


I was totally entranced by her and she watched me, watching her, delighted by her tease. Then with an instant demure expression on her face asked,


Ý Ý ìAre you hungry?î


Ý Ý ìYes, Iím hungry for you.î I replied.


Ý Ý ìThen eat me.î said Tsuki, with such lascivious eagerness.


She pulled me down to her and pushed my head between her inner thighs, to the place where my tongue could possibly find the grape. It was such sweet nectar, but she gave me a thirst for her that I couldnít quench, until I was deep inside her.


Her breathing quickened and became louder, for when she was ready she grabbed hold of my buttocks and pulled me into her. I was in seventh heaven, I had no idea how long it lasted, whether it was simply minutes or hours, as time seemed to stand still. I cannot even remember how many times I came, or the amount of orgasms that she had, except that it was ecstatic pleasure and all our senses had become highly activated beyond any level that I had ever known before.Ý


As our moist bodies moved in rhythm, I noticed on the television the video clip that Tsuki had been watching which was still playing and kept repeating itself. What was even more bizarre was the irony of it.





THE RIDDLE OF THE SPHINX



The video clip was a cartoon, of a small, scrawny, young boy climbing up the steep, jagged path of a rocky mountain. The sun blazed fiercely down on him. He was bare to the waist, apart from tattered shorts and a pair of dusty, worn-out boots that he was wearing.

Soaked in sweat, he stopped for a moment and shook an almost empty container of water, which he ardently drank from. With the water almost finished, he was unable to quench his thirst.


The boy climbed a little higher, then hesitated and turned to look down from the height, into the distance, to what he had left behind. There was the hazy view of a decrepit village, with its barren and impoverished vineyards. Then he licked his dry lips and nonchalantly smiled to himself; perhaps remembering days when the harvest was once good and the sweet taste of the grapes, or maybe it was in anticipation of what he expected on the other side of the mountain.


He continued his climb along the path, encouraged by his longing to reach the peak and then to the promise of fertile land on the other side of the mountain. Suddenly from behind a large rock, was the sound of raucous laughter and appeared a figure; the top half of which was a bearded man, with ring shaped horns and his lower limbs were that of a goat, a Satyr. In his hands was an enormous bunch of succulent grapes and he was feverishly devouring them.


Then the Satyr offered some of the mouth-watering grapes to the boy, who keenly reached out for them, his thirst unbearable after observing such a sight. Just before the boy had them within his grasp, the Satyr tantalizingly pulled them back, leaving him empty handed and laughing at his tormented victim, as he evaporated into the air. The boy rubbed his eyes in disbelief, he was exacerbated and looked around the back of the rock, as the Satyr had vanished out of sight.


Although the boy seemed disheartened at first by this event, he continued with his quest and persevered, climbing higher up the mountain. Except that this tormenting scenario between the Satyr and the boy wasnít over and was repeated many times.


Each time in frustration the boy would age in spasms, sometimes stumbling on the jagged rocks, falling and with each fall injuring himself. He struggled as he climbed, for the long trek up the mountain had taken its toll on him, as he had aged from young boy, through to manhood and finally old age as he reached the summit.


With the taunting Satyr standing next to him, again urging him to take the grapes, this now frail old man sat, with his head in his withered hands and looked down, despondently to the destination of which he hadnít reached. For in the distance he could see the blossoming fertile land on the other side of the mountain.


He sat and pondered, since this sprightly Satyr hadnít aged, perhaps these grapes were an elixir of life. Perhaps if they had been given to him as a young boy, they could have nourished him on his journey; or even now if granted to him, could have returned his youth, but then it was only an illusion after all.




The next evening I arrived at Le Bordeulaise, a sumptuous restaurant overlooking the Sienne. I was there at seven, an hour early, as I had intended to make a good impression for Sephone.

I was even as well dressed as I possibly could be, in a dark blue Armani suit, lilac shirt and tie and fine Gucci shoes.


I was familiar with the Maitre-de at the restaurant, Jean-Pierre Adou; he had bought one of my paintings a year ago for a very low price. Jean-Pierre was a tall fellow, suave and veryÝ

witty; and although the restaurant was extremely busy, as it always was, had managed to reserve for me a good table outside.


I chatted with Jean-Pierre for only a few minutes, who kept it brief and polite, as he had to quickly return to his ëwelcoming dutyí on the frontline of hi-society. He was a ladies man and beneath the polite conversation was a total womanizer, with constant innuendos about one of his latest conquests and his latest invitation to some outrageous party.


I ordered a bottle of white wine and sat and waited for Sephone, feeling nervous like an adolescent boy in anticipation of his first date.Ý I was constantly looking at my watch every few minutes and then inspected the wound in my hand. It had soon healed in such a short time, days rather than weeks and had almost completely disappeared, it was as if it had never existed, or perhaps it was something to do with this new drug that I was taking?


After a couple of glasses of wine, my thoughts went back to Tsuki, the grapes and the previous, mind-blowing, libidinous night. Although I couldnít complain about the breathtaking results with her that night, I didnít want Tsuki to take anymore of the white powder mixture when I wasnít with her. So whilst she was sleeping the drug off, I hid the box; especially since I didnít know what else it might do to her, or perhaps it might have been out of some jealousy in case she tried it with somebody else.


Then Sephone arrived. Heads turned as she entered the restaurant, immediately recognized by admirers. She was sublime and elegantly walked towards the table, escorted by Jean-Pierre. I got up to greet her and taking her hand to kiss it, she moved closer for me to kiss her on the cheek. Which I did, glad to be less formal, whilst Jean-Pierre, behind her and moving the chair to seat her, gave me a wry smile. After I had introduced them, he called one of the waiters over to hand us the menus and pour Sephone some wine.


Ý Ý ìYou look stunning.î I said, because she really did. She was wearing a low-cut, tight fitting, black sequin dress, that showed off her lustrous white skin; with a lengthy open slash at the side of her dress and to the top of her thigh, to torment with the occasional vista of her long slender legs. Whilst I couldnít take my gaze off her intoxicating beauty, she leaned over the table closer to me and replied,


Ý Ý ìSo do you and youíre not the typical image of an artist, least not how I first imagined you - but then again, youíre the one with the imagination arenít you?î


I felt slightly embarrassed and must have blushed, which I am sure Sephone noticed, as she seemed amused by it and after a flirtatious smile added,


Ý Ý ìI donít often compliment men - but they do say that flattery will get you everywhere.îÝ


Then she laughed with such endearing delight at her own sparkling wit and looked back at the menu.


Ý Ý ìAre you hungry?î I asked.


Ý Ý ìVery!î she said directly, ìSo, lets order.î


I indicated to the waiter. He returned to the table to take our order and with the bottle almost finished, poured some more wine into our empty glasses.


Ý Ý ìHave you decided?î I asked.


Ý Ý ìYes,î she replied, ìbut I would prefer if you ordered for me and I would like someÝ Ý champagne.î


Ý Ý ìA bottle of champagne for the lady. Champignons - as a starter and for our main course Trout le menuniere, síil vous plait.î I said, recovering for a moment what I thought was my cultivated poise, as it was a dish that had been recommended to me before by Jean-Pierre and was a speciality of the chef. ìOh, and another bottle of - wine, síil vous plait.î


Ý Ý ìSo, do you think you can make me more beautiful in a painting?î Sephone asked with a coy expression on her face.


Ý Ý ìThat is impossible,î I replied, with added charm, ìHow can you make a goddess of beauty more beautiful?î


Ý Ý ìA goddess? Then please kiss my feet, my admirer.î


She laughed and dropped her napkin for me to pick it up for her from the floor. As I bent down, she uncrossed her legs, opening the dress above her thighs and moving her legs slightly apart, she asked sardonically,


Ý Ý ìDo you like what you see?î


Then she crossed her legs back over again, as it was just enough to give me a glimpse that she wasnít wearing any underwear.


Ý Ý ìYes, very much,î I replied, as I handed her the napkin. ìI can only imagine how jealousÝ Ý your husband must get with constant admirers wanting to get just a glimpse of you.î


She glanced at me from the corner of her eyes and with a condescending smile.


Ý Ý ìIím disappointed,î she said. ìIs that all you want with your imagination, just a glimpse ofÝ Ý me?î


The waiter came over with the bottle of champagne, poured it and we toasted to ëAll that is beautifulí. Then the waiter brought our starter with another bottle of wine. I watched Sephone as she placed one of the mushrooms between her inviting lips and relished the taste. She looked at me with such alluring eyes, then taking hold of my hand, placed it beneath the napkin which was covering her lap and slid it between her thighs. Bringing my face closer to hers and with a coaxing smile added,Ý


Ý Ý Ý ìJust make casual conversation.î


Ý Ý ìTell me about your husband, he is a very famous man I believe? What is he doing tonight?î I asked as Sephone led my fingertips to lightly stroke the soft fur on her mound of Venus.


Ý Ý ìHe is away as always on business,-î she answered, gently bringing my fingertips in small circular movements, to her warm, luscious petals.


Ý Ý ìHe is a very powerful man and involved in so many things. Actually it is Oscar that introduced me to your work and wants to commission this piece for his Collection.î


She avoided inserting my fingers until the last possible moment, until she decided when she was ready, with each moment of stimulation.


Ý Ý ìHow did you meet him?î I asked, trying to look cool, despite the increasing heat I was feeling in my trousers.


Ý Ý ìI first met Oscar Sata in Paris seven years ago. As I am sure you that you do know that he is a famous fashion designer and I was a young model working in Paris, in total awe of this man.î-


Sephone finally aroused beneath her sublime veil, thrust two of my fingers, deeply and with more ardor into her heated, wet opening.


Ý Ý ì- Oscar was charming and used me for his campaign, then within twelve months we were married. Later I became pregnant and had a beautiful little boy.î


Ý Ý ìI see - but isnít he a lot older than you?î I asked, starting to sweat.


Ý Ý ìYes older, much older, but he makes me feel protected and gives me a lot of freedom to do what I wantî


I wanted to take her there and then in that restaurant, but the game had only just begun.


Ý Ý ìI suppose he is like a father-figure to me.î said Siphon


She seemed to take such delight in what was going on under the napkin, with her interior becoming hot and moist, and knowing that there was an audience all around her, that wasnít able to see this show.


Then Sephone took another mushroom from her plate and appetizingly ate it and looked at me with a thrilled smile on her face. She continued with the conversation, whilst I continued with the sexual activity; but I wasnít listening, I was already in another world and had fallen into another dream, as her voice faded away.





SEPHONE IN THE FLAMES


There was bright blinding light in my eyes. I was outside somewhere and caught sight in the distance of a mushroom cloud explosion; followed by the whistling sound of a bleak icy wind. I could see a manís hand, his fingertips on fire, slowly move across a womanís voluptuous breast.


I couldnít make out there faces and found myself walking through a wasteland of ruin and desolation, with pockets of fire everywhere. Then I heard the sound of a baby crying. I wasÝ

able to make out the shadow of another figure amongst the ruins, it was a skeleton and it was holding the baby. Suddenly the baby changed into a large fish, flapping itsí tail violently as it gasped for air.


In this wasteland, the howling wind became louder and stronger, as it rushed through an old dilapidated building. I recognized it; it was the ëSessessioní building, with only half of its dome remaining and I was in what must have once been Vienna. As I came closer and inside, I could see the remnants of the ëBeethoven Friezeí, the magnificent mural painting by Gustav Klimt. There were the ëMalevolent Powersí of the three gorgans, Disease, Madness and Death, with the alluring image of ëLustí. She looked very similar to Sephone, with her long red hair, a seductive smile and shameless gaze. She was a depiction of the classic femme-fatale, a woman skilled in teasing pleasure and taking a man into tempestuous, unexplored regions of ecstasy.


From the ruins of the building, Sephone appeared, she was enshrouded in fire and ascended with the flames as they soared higher around her. Then she stepped out of the flames and walked slowly towards me, like Aphrodite emerging from the sea, naked and holding her left breast invitingly.


After that I found myself within her embrace, her slim legs wrapped around mine and her well shaped buttocks pressed against a wall. I passionately made love to her, oblivious to the flames and the devastation that was all around me.


Then we were distracted by a man crawling from beneath the rubble, as he blindly felt his way towards us. He seemed to have no face, or any indication of any features, as his head and body was covered in a shabby grey cloak, leaving a dark empty space where his face should have been. He gestured frantically for me to help him and grabbed my arm, wrenching me from Sephoneís embrace.


Sephone was outraged by this and stepped back into the flames, from where she came. With her movements in reverse sequence, she descended back into the ruins.



Ý Ý ìWhat Oscar wanted was a nude painting.î said Sephone, as her voice sedately flowed back into my consciousness.


ÝI was now looking into the flame of the lit candle on the table, was drenched in sweat and noticed that my hand was no longer between her legs.


Ý Ý ìYour thoughts drifted. Where were you?î asked Sephone, with a motherly tone to her voice.


I didnít reply and was wondering how long the dream had lasted, it seemed like a long time, but it must only have been minutes. Then I glanced at Sephone, who appeared irritated by my lack of response and said,


Ý Ý ìEmerging from the flames and holding your left breast.î Remembering the dream and adding fuel to the fire.


Ý Ý ìWhat! You are crazy!î she exclaimed and furiously kicked my leg under the table as I grabbed hold of her hand.


I tried to regain my senses, but then my attention was drawn to the large fish on the plate in front of us, which the waiter must have brought over to the table whilst I was dreaming. I was troubled by the cold stare in the eye of the lifeless fish and felt anxious. Something was wrong and I knew that I had to leave the table immediately.


I apologized to Sephone, who looked really bewildered at me and promised to call her the next day. Of course she was annoyed and replied,Ý


ÝìDonít bother!î


I was sure that she had never had a man leave her in such a hurry and sitting alone at a dinner table before, but I quickly dismissed the thought and paid the bill. Then called a taxi to get me back to the studio as soon as possible.




It was late, 11:30pm, as I approached the studio. There was a lot of commotion and noise in the street. Police and ambulance sirens, flashing lights and a crowd of people near the entrance of my building. They were gathered around what looked like a naked female body, sprawled out on the pavement, which was covered in shattered glass.


The area had been cordoned off and the flashing light was that of a police photographer, taking pictures of the impaled body. As I pushed my way through the crowd, I was immediately held back by a police officer, after recognizing that it was the fractured, slender figure of Tsuki, that was lying motionless in a pool of blood.


Ý Ý ìCan you get back, Monsieur.î said the police officer. How could I get back from my beloved Tsuki?


Ý Ý ìSheís my life!î I pleaded. During a brief struggle, ìLet me through! Iím her partner.î


Then an Inspector nodded to the police officer, who acknowledged and let me pass.Ý


I was unsure what to do? I crouched down next to Tsuki and took hold of one of her dainty hands, delicately pressing her blood stained fingers against my lips. I turned her from her side and gently touching her ashen face, was aghast and nauseated, as I realized that her beautiful eyes had been gauged out. No, I had to find them and searched the ground amongst the broken pieces of glass.


Ý Ý ìWhat has happened to your eyes?î I asked, as if I could now find them and put her back together again. After a manic, futile search, I went back to Tsuki, to cling to what was left of her limp body. Holding her in my arms, I rocked her back and forth, hoping that she was just a child caught in a moment of sleep and could not accept that she was now a lifeless corpse.


I wiped off some of the blood from her brow and cheeks; and noticed a few speckles of the white powder mixture on her lips, which contrasted against the small rivulets of blood oozing from her mouth and the vacant holes of where her eyes should have been. I felt ashamed and in a daze calmly brushed away the white powder with the edge of my thumb and lightly kissed her cold, parted lips.


I removed some of the splinters of glass from her arms, her shoulders and her beautiful desecrated body. Within my embrace, I continued to rock her back and forth, only to be awakened from my trance by two stretcher bearers, who had come to take her away from me and hide her corpse in a black, plastic, zipped up bag.


Then I heard the voice of the Inspector, who was now standing over me.


Ý ìYou will have to come back to the station, Monsieur. We need to ask you someÝ Ý questions.î


I sat anxiously waiting in the centre of a small, stuffy room. It was cubicle style, with a door behind me and a large window which looked out onto the rest of the police station. It was a cluttered hole of an office and I was sitting directly in front of a large desk which filled most of it. There was what looked like an obsolete computer, folders and police reports on the desk; and on the wall above the door was an electronic clock, which read 2:00 AM. as the Inspector and a police officer entered the room.


Ý Ý ìIt looked like her eyes had been gauged out by a sharp implement.î said the police officer keenly to the Inspector.


Ý Ý ìOr it could just have been that she scratched her own eyes out, as it was her blood that we found under her fingernails.î replied the Inspector disparagingly.


With oily, black, slicked back hair and wearing an expensive, black leather jacket, which hung badly over his small, thin frame, the Inspector also wore a look of arrogance on his rat-like features. He grabbed a chair and sat opposite me.


He was in his late 40ís, although it was difficult to be certain of his exact age; as he was a chain smoker and put out one cigarette in an over-full ashtray on the desk, only to immediately light another one. He then offered me a cigarette from his pack of Gauloises and I politely declined. Then he stared at me for a moment. There was a glint of malice in his tiny, dark, piercing eyes, perhaps he had seen too many indescribable horrors with them, which were now etched permanently on the parchment of his face.


Ý Ý ì I am Inspector Jean-Paul Duval and this is my colleague Sargent Henri Le Bon-î said the Inspector as he puffed another cloud of stale smoke into the already stagnant atmosphere of the room.Ý


Ý Ý ì- We would like to ask you some routine questions. You do have the right to a lawyer ifÝ Ý you need one, itís up to you, but it isnít really necessary at the moment.î


Ý Ý ìName, date of birth, address? Asked Le Bon as he fumbled to type at the computer. He was an unmistakable contrast to Inspector Duval, with a round, baby-face and a large, heavy build. His manner was clumsy.


I replied without hesitation. The Inspector pulled out a photograph from a folder on the desk and pushed it close to my face. I was appalled, it was a full-length photograph of Tsuki, lying face-down in a pool of blood, with her naked, tarnished body, shown in all its blatant detail after her death.


Ý ìWhat was your relationship with this - once attractive girl?î asked Duval, with a derisive tone in his voice.


Ý Ý ìI loved her and we were going to live together. - Why?î I replied defensively.


Ý Ý ìYou did know that she was taking drugs then?î stated Duval. Intimidating me with a penetrating glare. He followed it with a sardonic smile, when I replied,


Ý Ý ìOf course not!î


With a contemptuous expression still on his face, Duval said,


Ý Ý ìWell, it looked as if she O.Díd before falling from that window.î -Ý


Ý Ý ì- You arrived at the scene about one hour after the time of death. Where were you beforeÝ Ý that?î asked Duval.


I was having dinner at Le Bordeulaise with a client, for a commission for a painting.î


Ý Ý ì Can you verify this? The name of the client, silvous plait? asked Le Bon, eager to join in on the interrogation.


Ý Ý ìOf course I can verify it. I was with Sephone Sata.î I replied indignantly.


Le Bon looked at Duval with a salacious grin beaming across his face and whispered under his breath,


Ý Ý ìLucky bastard, wouldnít you just like to get into her panties?î


Duval laughed briefly and continued with his spiteful probing after lighting up another cigarette.


Ý Ý ìLook Monsieur Cameron, we believe that you are in possession of illicit substances andÝ Ý we are going to hold you here until we can corroborate your story. -Ý


Ý Ý Stand up, silvous plait and remove everything from your pockets. Place them on the desk.Ý Ý We will return them to you later.î Instructed Duval adamantly.


I placed my wallet, loose change and keys onto a small tray which was on the desk. Then noticed another folder which had been left open by Le Bon; revealing more photographs of other victims, young girls in different states of mutilation and some also with their eyes gauged out.


Ý Ý ìYou may sit down, now.î Ordered Duval and astutely aware that I had seen the other photographs.


Ý Ý ìSo am I being arrested?î I asked nervously.


Ý ìNo Monsieur Cameron, like I said before, we just wanted to ask you some routine questions.î said Duval with a smirk on his face.


Ý Ý ìSo am I free to go?î I asked, wanting to leave and tired of the polluted innuendos in the air.


ÝìNo, we havenít finished with our questions yet.î Stated Duval.


Le Bon having finished typing left the room and carried out my belongings on the tray with him. He was followed by Inspector Duval, who had picked up some of the folders from the desk and my printed out statement; and standing at the door for a moment with them under his arm, said,


Ý Ý ìMake yourself comfortable, Monsieur Cameron, as we are going to be a while.î


With a twisted smile on his face he closed the door.


I got up from the chair and looked out through the window at the rest of the police station. It was a strange assortment of people being questioned about different crimes in different cubicles. There were the dregs of society, down-and-outs, junkies, pimps and prostitutes.


I felt exhausted and confused by what had happened. When I thought about Tsuki, I was overcome with a feeling of numbness in my head. I could not accept that I had seen her lying dead in a pool of blood with her beauty violated in such a hideous self-inflicted manner. No, it couldnít have been Tsuki, because I loved her.Ý


I began to feel dizzy and losing my balance, stumbled back to the chair for support. I slumped back down into it and before I lost consciousness, noticed one of the prostitutes, who having realized that I had been looking at her before, went to the window of my cubicle and blew me a kiss. Then she winked an eye at me and burst into raucous, mocking laughter. This along with the other sounds of the police station became a mass of fuzzy noises, resounding in my head. Then my heavily congested head, dropped onto my chest and I must have blacked out; and dreamt.


THE DREAM OF TSUKI



Out of the blanket of darkness, there was a pinpoint of blue light, which appeared to be spreading outwards from its centre. Then Tsuki emerged naked out of this evolving mass of light and as she became more visible, was holding in her hands three white lilies, which she held modestly in front of her.


She was surrounded by a procession of masked, dancing figures, images of debauchery and the virtuous, of lust and innocence, bound together in movement. As if it was a scenario, that had just stepped out of some medieval carnival.


Tsuki was oblivious to their rampant, rapturous activity, like she was in some kind of somnambulistic trance. She simply drifted closer towards me, levitating with her delicate feet in the air.


Then I noticed an image of myself amongst the stream of masked figures. I was holding in my arms a young boy and we were attached to each other. Our heads were joined together by a lengthy, tangled blindfold. I was also wearing strapped to one of my shoulders, a man-made excuse of an angelís wing.


Tsuki had left this bizarre, cavalcade behind her and now closer to me, as the onlooker of this show, handed me the flowers. She lifted her face towards me and I could see that her eyes were missing; and in their place dark, vacant holes as in a death mask. Also her lips were still, but I could hear her softly spoken voice,


Ý Ý ìI represent things to myself now, not by the sight of my eyes, but by the spiritual energy I draw from the Powers. I am in heaven, in earth, in water. I am in air, in animals, in plants, in the womb, before the womb, after the womb, everywhere.î


ÝShe was now inside me and I could feel her presence run throughout my body. Then she passed right through me and had opened some door to another world, leading me through it.



I woke in a hazy atmosphere, still sprawled out in the chair and with Inspector Duval standing in front of me, holding some coffee in a plastic cup. The aroma of the coffee reached my nostrils as Duval held it tauntingly close to my face, before finally offering it to me.


After a couple of sips, my eyes adjusted to the room and then I noticed Le Bon, crouched in a chair next to me. He slowly leaned over towards me and shouted,


Ý Ý ìWake up! Youíre free to go!î


I was startled and accidentally spilt some of the coffee on my suit. They both laughed and I looked at my smart, Armani suit which was now already beginning to look shabby, as it was also covered in sweat and blood stains.


Ý Ý ìWhat time is it?î I asked, forgetting to look at my watch and the electronic clock above the door.


Ý Ý ìIt is 8:00 AM.î said Le Bon, with a mocking inclination in his voice.


Duval lit a cigarette from a fresh pack of Gauloises, phlegmatically inhaled it, blew out the smoke and said,


Ý Ý ìWe canít detain you here any longer Monsieur Cameron, but we will be continuing withÝ Ý our investigation. - We will of course be keeping our eyes on you.î





BAD SERVICE




After my belongings had been returned to me at the police station, I decided to walk back to the studio. It was a clear blue sky outside and I needed the fresh air after being in that claustrophobic, stuffy cubicle.Ý


I stopped at a cafÈ on the bank of the Seine, Le CafÈ des Artistes. There were posters on the walls of previous and present exhibitions, along with leaflets and postcards; illustrating some of the work of different artists on a shelf next to the bar. It prompted me to think about my exhibition, which I still wasnít prepared for yet and along with the shock of Tsukiís horrendous death, I was too much in a state of anxiety to think about work.


I wasnít a regular at the CafÈ and was surprised that it was so busy at that time. Apart from what I presumed were the very few artists that did go there frequently, it seemed to be mostly tourists. Then a large group of Japanese tourists entered, with their cameras in hand and ready for the day to swallow up any cultured label.


I thought about Tsukiís mother and her father in Kyoto; and realized that I would have to contact them that morning, concerning their daughterís awful death. Again I had a feeling of anguish deep in my gut, how was I going to explain to them such an untimely death of our beloved Tsuki. My eyes started to swell with tears, a trickle of warm salt-water ran down my face and I sank my head into my hands, glad that there was some tiny release, even if only for a moment.


After I had wiped off the tears and was lost in thought about what I was going to say to Tsukiís mother; a waitress came over to the table and was in a hurry to take the order. She certainly wasnít polite and asked abruptly,


Ý Ý ìWhat do you want?î


Ý Ý ìUne grande crËme, silvous plait.î I replied, having lost my appetite. I was feeling nauseous and certainly couldnít face eating any breakfast.


Ý Ý ìIs that all? What about the ëpetite dejeuner special,í omlette and croissants?î She asked coercingly, then snatching the menu off the table and ready to place it in the hands of a hungry tourist.


Ý Ý ìNo, just une grande crËme, silvous plait.î I again insisted. All I wanted was another coffee to wake me out of my hazy, murky, numbness.


She left irritated that I hadnít given her anything to scribble down and mumbled something under her breath. At the bar she made some comment to another waitress, I thought possiblyÝ

about the blood stains on my suit, or perhaps she thought I was some bum off the sidewalk wearing a second-hand Armani suit. My head was buzzing around with crazy, confusing thoughts; flashes of seeing Tsuki with her eyes removed and then the cross-examination I received at the police station, and also that strange dream with her message to me.


The waitress returned with my coffee and a derisive smile on her face. She almost dropped the cup, spilling it in front of me.


Ý Ý ìThere you are, Monsieur.î She said sarcastically, after she also slammed the bill down onto the table.


Ý Ý ìMerci.î I replied and immediately sipped my coffee, scalding my lips, which she seemed to find highly amusing.


Again back at the bar and looking in my direction, the waitress made another comment to her colleague, which I was obviously meant to hear.


Ý Ý ìI can see that Iím going to get a big tip from that one.îÝ She said, followed by a snide giggle.


I blew on the coffee to cool it down and said to myself, but loud enough that she could hear,


Ý Ý ìIt must be pre-menstrual tension.î


I quickly finished the coffee and taking out the loose change from my pocket, placed it on the table. There were a few coins left over from the price of the coffee, just enough for a tiny tip. Then I glanced at the waitress, thought about her awful attitude that morning and instead gave her a sardonic wink of the eye. I took the rest of the coins and felt really irritated, even by such a petty misunderstanding. I passed by her and tossed one of the coins in my hand, and as I exited through the door remarked,


Ý Ý ìIt was bad service, anyway.î




I walked along the bank of the river, still playing with the coin in my hand and heard music coming from the underpass of the Pont de Sully. It was the sound of a saxophone playing the song, ëQue ce ra, ce ra.í


In the dim light under the bridge, I could just make out the tall, lanky figure of a man playing the saxophone, As I got closer the sound became distorted, it seemed to slow down and became weighty in my head, along with his movement.


He was wearing an old, tattered overcoat and I could see that beneath the open coat, he was dressed in the costume of a clown. He had a few tufts of grey matted hair, on his otherwise bald head and his face was painted white, with two black vertical lines running across each eye, along with thin, red puckered lips, which were blowing at the saxophone.

.

Sitting on the ground next to him was a young boy. He appeared gaunt, with a vacant look on his face as he stared into the distance, with his dark, sunken eyes. He was motionless, apart from hugging tightly an old, battered teddy-bear in his skinny arms. It was badly ripped and one of its ears was missing.


I could see on the stone ground and next to the boyís, bare, grubby, feet was a worn-out hat containing a few coins. I stopped for a moment and tossed my coin towards the hat. The coin also seemed to roll in the air in slow-motion and clinked loudly as it hit the rest of the coins, echoing throughout the underpass. The boy remained expressionless, unmoved by the noise.


Then my attention was drawn back to the boyís teddy-bear and the stuffing that was coming out of its stomach, which revealed a small, clear, plastic bag that contained some white powder. The clown stopped playing and turned towards me, with what I at first thought was a smile of gratitude, which soon changed into a sinister grin. He looked at me with such a sneering, twisted look on his face, as if he was saying that he knew something about me that I didnít know. I walked past him and he continued to play the same song, ëQue c era, ce raí.


As I left them behind and came back into daylight, I was haunted by the melody and the smiling, malevolent countenance of the clown, along with the gaunt, impassive look of the boy.




I hesitantly turned the key in the studio door and entered, not knowing what to expect. The place was a mess. There was upside down furniture, slashed canvases, paints, emptied boxes, ripped clothes everywhere and shattered glass all over the floor.


A cold draft came in from the large window, where Tsuki had fallen. I thought I could easily cover up the exposed vista of the city with some canvas. I had plenty of it stored on a roll underneath a couple of loose floorboards, along with a bag containing the remaining Ayahuasca seeds. I thought about the white powder mixture, Tsuki must have taken too much of it, seen too much with those beautiful eyes of hers and this was the result. A chill ran down my spine.


Then I noticed on one of the walls was some writing, painted in large red letters my initials ëF.C.í and beneath this ëFor Christ, would follow me into hell!í I went over to the wall and running my hand over the cold plaster, touched one of the letters. Startled, I realized that it wasnít paint, but had been written in blood. ëCould Tsuki have done this in her own blood?íI asked myself, ëAnd then gauged out her eyes?í She must have been in such extreme hysteria, that it was beyond my comprehension.


Distressed, I stepped backwards and heard a crunch beneath my feet. I had stepped onto the sharp, splintered pieces of glass of a framed photograph of the two of us together. I crouched down to study it; we were smiling with joy and hugging each other last Summer, by the Seine and with the Notre Dame Cathedral in the background. On the floor next to the photograph and the splinters of glass which were covered with speckles of her blood, was one of Tsukiís flimsy dresses. I gently picked it up and pressed the soft, black, satin next to my cheek. HerÝ

perfume still lingered on the dress and I couldnít hold back my remorse any longer, as tears sprang from my eyes.

Then I carefully placed the dress down onto the bed, next to me; it was a sacred relic to my memory of her and sat lamenting, with my head buried deep in my hands. I needed something to take the pain away, the grief was unbearable. I had to quickly find the box with the white powder mixture in it, even though it was the source of my distress, any sense of reason had also fallen through the window.


I searched around the room, stumbling over emptied boxes, looking underneath upside down drawers and at the bottom of a pile of slashed canvases, amongst a stack of tubes of paint, was the box. It was covered in paint, squeezed from the tubes. I eagerly opened the box, glad that there was still some of the white powder mixture left in it and shoveled it down my throat.


Also beneath the pile of damaged canvases and lying face down on the floor, was an unscathed painting. I lifted it up to examine it and was shocked to discover that it was a completed painting of Tsuki, from the dream I had of her in the police station. She was holding in her hands three white lilies and was surrounded by masked figures. There was also my image in a corner of the painting, bound to a young boy by a lengthy blindfold.


I straightened up the easel and placed the painting on it. Then sat back down on the bed and stared, entranced by the painting after rubbing my eyes in disbelief. It wasnít possible? I only had that dream in the early hours of the morning.


I decided to rinse my eyes with cold water. In the bathroom, I cleaned my hands and stripped off my ruined suit. Then filled the wash-basin with cold water and before washing my face, looked in the mirror. I thought I saw the reflection of Sephone behind me, I turned to look over my shoulder, but of course she wasnít there. I dipped my hands into the water, splashed my face and again looked into the mirror. My face was covered in blood and contorted with pain. The water in the wash-basin had turned into blood.


Suddenly I reached down with my hands, plunged them into my stomach and pulled open my abdomen. A dark vortex fell from the ceiling, it filled the bathroom with a swirling, maelstrom of distorted black matter. Transforming itself into a sickly manifestation of evil spirits, apparitions of malice and corruption, sucked and pulled downwards into the open wound. Just as suddenly, the wound closed instantly without a trace.


I examined my stomach, there wasnít a mark, it was as if nothing had happened. I was stunned and looked back at my reflection with disgust written on my face. Overcome with the feeling of self-loathing and in a state of dementia, I shouted and smashed the mirror in anger. Then fell to the floor in total despair, crouched in a corner of the bathroom, wondering ëWhat had I done?í




The phone rang. I was startled out of my melancholy. I donít know how many hours I had sat crouched in that bathroom corner, but it was getting dark outside. I searched around the studio

and finally found the phone under a jumble of clothes, as I jumped to pick up the receiver. It stopped ringing.


Then I realized it was getting late and I hadnít phoned Tsuki parents with the atrocious news. I quickly dialed the number. I couldnít think what to say.


ÝìHiromi san, itís Frankie. Itís something important I have to tell you, but I donít know how Ý Ý Ý to tell you, itís terrible news concerning Tsuki.Ý

  1. Iím sorry. - She had an accident last night. - Iím sorry, but she - she died.î


The response was silence and then the receiver was put down on the other side. I was annoyed with myself and the tactless way in which I had said it.


The phone rang again. I quickly picked it up thinking it was Tsukiís mother again, or her father. It wasnít, it was Sephone.


Ý Ý ìFrankie, itís Sephone,î she said. ìI heard what happened last night. - Iím sorry, I triedÝ Ý calling you so many times today. The police contacted me to confirm your alibi, that you were Ý Ý with me in the restaurant last night.î


Ý Ý ìIím sorry, I didnít hear the phone ringing. - Also about my attitude in the restaurant - I Ý Ý havenít been in my right mind lately.î


Ý Ý ìNo, forget about it.î


Ý Ý ìYou see, I had to leave in a hurry. - I knew that something was wrong.î


Ý Ý ìDonít worry about that. - Can I get you anything?î


Ý Ý ìI just need something to sleep.îÝ


Ý Ý ìIím busy tonight, but Iíll bring something over to you in the morning. Anyway watch the Ý Ý television to take your mind off it, thereís an interview with Oscar at eleven on Channel Ý Ý Plus.î


Ý Ý ìSure, if it is still working. Thanks.î I replied. As she put the phone down, I could still hear the rain on the empty line.


After a while I sat wondering what to do, since I was restless and since it was only eight; I didnít feel like eating or watching the television and decided to pass the time by straightening up the studio. I cleared away the broken glass and temporarily repaired the glassless window, by nailing a huge piece of canvas over it. I lost the view of the city, but at least it kept the cold draft out. Also the Ayahuasca seeds were safe and still in the bag under the floor boards


The television was turned over on its side and had been splashed with paint. Surprisingly, the screen hadnít been damaged and I was able to clean the paint off. I soon got bored of tidying the studio and felt despondent, after seeing some photographs ripped up from out of Tsukiís modeling portfolio, along with pages torn out of some of my books.Ý




I switched the television on and it was working reasonably well. I flicked the channels. There was the usual advertising garbage for washing-up liquid, breakfast cereal and the latest tiny tampon; along with the evening news, with the usual deluge of despairing stories. Then there was Channel Plus and the interview with Oscar Sata.


It was a talk show presented by the hostess, Joan La Scala. An attractive blonde, in her early thirties and she was a charming news journalist, with a slight Italian accent.


Ý Ý ìOscar Sata is now one of the most famous and influential fashion designers in the world. Ý Ý His latest Collection has already taken Paris and New York by storm. He is currently inÝ Ý Tokyo, where he is showing his new Collection and we are now going by satellite, live over to Ý Ý Tokyo, where it is early morning, to talk to Oscar Sata.î


Oscar Sata looked relaxed as he appeared on the screen. He was in his early fifties, with long grey hair, which was worn in a pony-tail. He was very elegantly dressed in a suit from his own Collection and had the appearance that he was aware that he projected an aura of exquisite taste.


Ý Ý ìHello Oscar! How is Tokyo?î asked Joan fervently.


He seemed to have a slight problem hearing and adjusted the tiny microphone on his jacket.


Ý Ý ìThat is better. Good evening Joan. How nice to talk to you. Can you please repeat the Ý Ý question.î


Ý Ý ìHello Oscar! How is Tokyo?î Joan repeated. ìAnd how is your new Collection doing Ý Ý there?î


Ý Ý ìYes, Tokyo is hot and busy. I am pleased with the response that I am getting here to my Ý Ý new Collection.î


Ý Ý ìI understand that you are quite a ëCollectorí yourself? Ý There are rumours of you buyingÝ Ý Ý Ý up ëobject d artí from all over the world, for your homes in New York, London and Paris. It is Ý Ý Ý Ý said that you are considered as a major Collector in the Art world.î Enquired Joan.


Ý Ý ìThis is true Joan, I have an insatiable appetite for beautiful objects.î said Sata. ìI like to Ý Ý surround myself with them. - Hungry eyes always on the lookout for something new and Ý Ý aesthetically pleasing. - You see I love the exotic and the mysterious.î


Ý Ý ìNot unlike your new Collection, Oscar.î said Joan.


Ý Ý ìThank you Joan, you are most flattering.î


Ý Ý ìNot at all, I adore the designs of Oscar Sata. Look as you can see, I am wearing one of Ý Ý your dresses here tonight.î


Joan immediately stood up from her chair, paraded in front of the camera, twirled and posed, as if she was a fashion model on the catwalk. The audience applauded and she sat back down with a self-satisfied smile on her face.


Ý Ý ìYou look most fetching!î Sata added.


Ý Ý ìThank you,î said Joan. ìI know that you have become famous in most circles, including Ý Ý the film and music business, but are you also adding Senator Bill Taylor to your newÝ Collection? - He is always wearing your suits.î


Sata laughs.


Ý Ý ìNot exactly, but I am a good friend of Billís and I think he will win the next election.î


Ý Ý ìSo what about rumours about you entering the European political forum yourself?î


Ý Ý ìNo Joan, I am far too busy at the moment for that. I prefer to take a backseat on that one.î said Sata.


Ý Ý ìA man of many talents,î said Joan. ìI understood that you were also a successful artist, a Ý Ý painter before you became known for your designs.î


Ý Ý ìYes, I was,î Sata replied, ì- but I had other worlds that I wanted to explore -î


With those words trailing off, somewhere in the back of my mind and the light from the flickering screen, I fell asleep.


As I dreamt - images flashed through my mind - Tsuki coming towards me with the three white lilies in her hands, Sephoneís face as it was reflected in the bathroom mirror and my own reflection, my face contorted in pain and desolation, as I smashed my fist against the mirror.Ý Then an explosion of glass in slow-motion, as the shattered pieces fell silently to the floor.


I looked at my clenched fist and tentatively opened my hand, revealing the wound as it re-appeared in my palm. The wound unfolded its lips of flesh, like flower petals languidly blossoming, whilst a droplet of blood oozed from its ripe corner. I lowered my hand, as the droplet, converged into a small trickle, which ran down to my fingertips. I watched one drop hang, suspended from the end of a finger and waiting to fall. It was all in slow-motion, as the droplet plunged, splashing onto the floor.


I could then see myself kneeling, before a small black table in a dark room. There was an empty Japanese rice bowl on the table directly in front of me. It was the well-used bowl that Tsuki had given me, in which I mixed my tempera. I placed my bleeding hand over the bowl and watched the blood slowly drip from the open wound. A few droplets at first, became a trickle, that became a cascade, filling the bowl to the brim and spilling over onto the table.


Then I was standing naked, apart from a sheet wrapped around the waist. With the bowl held in both hands and still overflowing, the blood spattered onto the white sheet. I held the bowl upwards, in a gesture, as if I was making an offering for it to be drank from by an unseen recipient.


Phantasmagorical figures emerged from out of the darkness, whispering to each other and flanking me either side, as they were drawn to a mysterious, phosphorescent, blue light emerging from just above the bowl. The blood continued to spill onto the sheet, as its white purity disappeared, engulfed and tainted by the dark red surge of life.


I suddenly woke from the dream, feeling a warm dampness smothering my body. Then sitting up in bed, I looked at the bed sheet which was covering me. It was soaked in blood. Again the wound had opened up in my palm and was seeping blood from its gaping orifice.




The phone rang. I immediately sat up in bed and turned the light on. I looked at the blood which was on the bed sheet, as it suddenly reversed its flow and disappeared, leaving the pure white sheet again. I then looked at the palm of my hand and the wound had also disappeared. I must have still been in a dream state, when I thought I had woken up before.


I quickly answered the phone it was a call from Japan. I had no idea of the time, but it must have been very early in the morning, as it was still dark outside. It was Tsukiís sister, Rika, concerning the funeral arrangements. She told me that they would be arriving in Paris the following evening and the funeral service would be on Wednesday morning at eight, at the Sacre Coeur.


Her voice drifted as my attention was drawn to another easel and next to the painting of Tsuki with the three lilies, was the image from the last dream which I had. I offered my condolences to Rika for the loss of her sister and thanked her for the information, then put down the receiver.


I was astonished that another painting had materialized whilst I was asleep. It was a self-portrait. In the painting, I was again naked, apart from a white shroud which was wrapped around my waist and I was also holding in my hands a bowl, which was overflowing with blood. There were bizarre dark figures on either side of me, which were also drawn to a phosphorescent blue light arising from the bowl.


I sat mesmerized by the painting for what seemed like quite some time. I couldnít sleep, so I decided to look for the Japanese bowl that Tsuki had given me. I searched the studio in a state of frenzy. I didnít even bother to get dressed. I urgently needed some more of that white powder mixture, the painting was one more sign that another domain was coming into my world, but perhaps it would also take me to where I could find Tsuki.


I found the bowl amongst some more paints in a corner of the studio. I crushed some of the Ayahuasca seeds into it and added the white powder pigment. In the painting the bowl was overflowing with blood, so I thought that maybe a sacrifice was required. My blood? I foundÝ

a sharp knife and cut deeply into the palm of my left hand, letting the blood drip slowly into the white powder mixture.


When the bowl was almost full of the dark red concoction, I immediately bandaged my hand. Then I had a few sips of the warm, savoury liquid. The effect of the intoxicating potion was almost instant. I collapsed onto the floor, dropping the bowl and nearly spilling most of the liquid, began to laugh insanely.Ý


I could then see myself lying on the floor with my hands crossed over my chest and laughing uncontrollably. Hovering above and leaving that shell of my body behind, I slowly began to spin upwards. Then there was an explosion of lightÖ


ÖAnd I could hear the voice of Tsuki.


Ý Ý ìGrasping in your mind that nothing is impossible for you, consider yourself immortal and capable of understanding everything. - Ascend beyond all height, descend beyond all depth. Gather into yourself the sensation of creation, of fire and of water, of dryness and of humidity. Imagine that you are at one and the same moment everywhere, on earth, in the sea, in the heaven, that you have not yet been born, that you are beyond death, - for the enlightenment of the Visionary is the metamorphosis of Saint Bartholomew.î


With Tsukiís words faintly echoing in my mind and trailing off into silence, I found myself in a domain bleached out in light. I could see myself beneath a mist of light, lying on the floor with my hands plunged into my abdomen and peeling back the skin. I exposed another form beneath it, not one of flesh and blood, but a translucent body which had climbed out of the boundaries of its skin. It was a transformation of a body, shedding its own skin like a snake and then discarding it.


I as this translucent body, picked up the skin from the floor and hung it on an antiquated hat- stand, as if it was an old coat, along with a harlequin mask in my image. The stand was next to an arched gateway, from where was coming the source of the light.


On either side of the gateway were two semi-naked guardian angels, elegant hermaphrodites wearing glorious bird-like masks and long, open robes. One was covered in Peacock feathers and the other in the feathers of a Golden eagle. As this translucent being, I entered the gateway and suddenly found that I was attached to and pulled by a silver cord. It was like an umbilical cord connected to my abdomen and drew me, spiraling upwards into the light.


Just as suddenly, this vision was reversed and I found myself lying back on the floor in my physical body once again. Then there was total darkness, as I went into a dreamless sleep.




I woke again to the sound of a gentle knocking at the door. I was still lying on the floor as rays of light, which came through the canvas over the broken window, fell across my face.

Again there was the gentle knocking at the door. I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waist. I opened the door, drowsily rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and was surprised to see Sephone so early in the morning.


I guessed that the lift had been repaired the previous day, whilst I was in the studio, as I couldnít imagine Sephone climbing up all those steps, it didnít seem like her style. But then again what did I really know about her style, perhaps a femme fatale was also capable of having a sweet side to her.


Ý Ý ìHello Frankie, I have brought you some breakfast,î she said ìI was worried that youÝ Ý werenít eating.î


Ý Ý ìCome in,î I replied, ìitís really kind of you.î


She placed a bag of croissants and jam onto a small table. Removed the books and paintsÝ

which were on it and whilst finding a place to put them amongst the clutter on the floor,Ý

exclaimed,


Ý Ý ìWhat a mess!î


Ý Ý ìSorry, I didnít get around to clearing the studio properly. I think Tsuki must have been in aÝ Ý real state of hysteria before. - Anyway what made you come here so early this morning?î I asked her.


Ý Ý ìItís not that early and like I said,î she replied, ìI was worried about you.î


I looked at my watch and Sephone was right, it was already ten.


Ý Ý ìBesides, donít you remember our conversation, you said about work being your salvationÝ Ý and that you wanted to start work on the commission,î she said. ìBut do you really think thatÝ Ý you are able to work, I mean Frankie, look at this mess?î


Ý Ý ìItís okay, I will soon get it cleared up. Besides I am used to working like this. - Give me aÝ Ý moment, I will just wash my face and get dressed. - Make yourself comfortable.î


She looked at me with a slightly amused expression on her face. Then curiously she walked around the studio picking up items from the shelves. She noticed the writing on the wall and some of the ripped photographs, then after brushing away some dust from a chair, sat and looked at the paintings on the easels.


Ý Ý ìAre these your latest paintings?î she asked, ìI like them, they are very other-worldly!î


Ý Ý ìYes, thank you!î I replied, whilst looking into the broken mirror. I didnít bother to explain to her how they had just appeared, as I didnít want to sound crazy. I removed the bandage from my hand, the cut had been deep, but it was healing. Then I splashed my face with water.


Ý Ý ìWe can start work after breakfast!î I shouted.


Ý Ý ìI will brew some coffee!î Sephone replied.


Ý Ý ìIf you find it?î I shouted back.


I soon got dressed, put on a rough pair of jeans and an old shirt covered in paint, which I usually worked in. Then we sat at the table, drank the freshly brewed coffee that Sephone had managed to find and ate the croissants with jam. I was hungry and finished them off, whilst Sephone got undressed in the bathroom.


I prepared to work, removed the mystifying paintings from the easels and arranged some paper and boards to make sketches on. I was ready with sharpened pencils in my hand, when Sephone came out of the bathroom. I was shocked when I realized that she was wearing one of Tsukiís gowns and guessed that she must have noticed the expression on my face, as she said,


Ý Ý ìSorry, but I found this in the bathroom. Was it Tsukiís?î


ÝìI guess she doesnít need it anymore,î I replied, ìbut you will have to take it off anyway,Ý Ý whilst I sketch you. If thatís what you still want?î


Ý Ý ìYes, that is what I want.î As she slipped out of the gown.


Standing naked before me, she really was a feast for the eyes. Her rich auburn hair cascaded to her delicate shoulders, with perfect curves and long slender legs, her beauty was a painful tease.


I asked Sephone to try various poses, as I took several photographs, but ëthe Aphrodite emergingí and holding her left breast invitingly, was the most desirable posture.


Ý Ý ìIs your husband a jealous man?î I asked her.


Ý Ý ìNo, he enjoys it that other men look at me, it feeds his ego.î Sephone replied.


Ý Ý ìAfter all, this is good for his ego too,î she said with a mischievous smile. ìHe is very eager to see this painting completed to add to his Collection. - What about you, do you also desire me?î


I didnít answer, because I knew that it was obvious that she could already see the desire in my eyes. Although she was a good model and whilst I was sketching her, the time seemed to flash by, but I did have moments of losing my concentration. I kept remembering the time together in the restaurant, when I had my hand between her legs and the strange vision that I had of her emerging from the flames and also of us making love amongst the ruins.


The whole day had passed by quickly, with numerous sketches done, but I couldnít hold back my sexual appetite for her any longer and found myself kissing her ardently. Then before I knew it, with her delicate hands quickly undoing my jeans, we were both naked embracing in the heat of lust. My hands were squeezing her breasts tightly to her delight. Whilst I slowly made my way down to between her thighs, my fingers played and gently stroked her softÝ

downy hair, before descending repeatedly deep into her moist divide and back to play with her soft downy hair once again.


I imagined this hair turning into flickering flames that became elongated, which changed into slender trees swaying in the wind. I must have fallen asleep, just as quickly as night had fallen and seemed to be moving in and out of dreams.




I found myself at the edge of a forest. The trees twisted and stretched up towards an undulating blood red sky and to the sound of a bellowing wind that became louder.


I watched as the trees flourished and became entwined in each other. There trunks had taken on the forms of male and female torsos, embracing whilst their limbs reached upwards, twisting and swaying in a tempestuous wind. With their branches entangled and with groans of ecstasy, as if caught in moments of orgasm, of pain and delight; they blossomed, sprouting colorful leaves, which changed into faces that became rigid masks.


One mask fell from a branch and drifted like a leaf carried on the Autumn wind, landing at my feet. I picked it up and with it fitting perfectly, placed it over my face.


Then my attention was drawn to a figure coming from the other side of the forest, a veiled dancer. She was swinging a Samurai sword above her head and with each move, swirling and slicing at the branches of the trees. To the sounds of their shrieking and howling, she dismembered them and as she danced with the sword, left a trail of destruction behind her. All around were shattered masks and bright violet blood seeped into the ground from the mutilated limbs of the trees.


When she approached with her face shrouded beneath the black veil, I thought it might have been Tsuki coming for me and leading a way through the forest for me to follow her. Then she stopped and threw the sword up into the air. I watched it spin slowly, before plunging into the ground in front of me. For a brief moment she pushed back her veil, but her face was not revealed, it was hidden underneath a sardonic smile and beneath a mask in the shape of a skull, for she was wearing a mask of death.




I woke early in the morning covered in sweat and with Sephone lying asleep in bed beside me. She had her back to me and was curled up, oblivious to the world. I entered the bathroom and looked directly into the broken mirror, with guilt written all over my face. That day was Tsukiís funeral and I had just slept with a married woman.


Then I saw Sephoneís reflection in the mirror, she was smiling and standing naked behind me. I turned around to greet her, but she wasnít there and I walked back over to the bed, to see if she had silently crept back under the sheet again. There wasnít any trace of her and her clothes had also gone. My mind was playing tricks on me again, she must have left whilst IÝ

was asleep. I couldnít have dreamt it all, as there were two cups on the table, with the coffee that she had brewed and also the sketches I had done of her the previous day were still on the easels.


I dismissed the bewildering thoughts, took a shower and quickly got ready, wearing a black suit as the funeral service was at eight. I was to meet Tsukiís family just before at the Consulate, where we would follow the hearse to the Church Sacre Coeur for the service and then to the Cimetiere Montmartre, where Tsuki would be buried.


There was a downpour of rain and the limousines were waiting for us at the Consulate, where Gerard Dupont, Tsukiís father was organizing the formalities. I went over to greet him, but it was coldly received and I was soon ushered into a car with Tsukiís aunt and uncle, Hiroko and Tanaka san, along with her young cousins, Sakura and Yoji. The journey would have been in complete silence apart from Sakura sobbing all the way to the church.


When we arrived at the Sacre Coeur, I went straight over to the hearse to fulfill what I believed was my duty in being one of the casket-bearers. Tsukiís father objected at first, but was persuaded by her mother and Tanaka san that my wish was acceptable. The coffin was surrounded with flowers, beautiful white roses and three white lilies on the lid of the casket.


As we slowly carried the coffin down the middle aisle towards the altar, I noticed that all theÝ

pews were filled with people that I didnít know. Tsukiís relatives and friends on her fathers side of the family and some from her Japanese side, along with some of her friends from the fashion world, all dressed in black. There were so many people that I didnít recognize and as I carried the casket, I felt that it was I that was the stranger amongst them, as there was so much of her past life that I didnít know.


We carefully placed the casket on a platform near the altar. I sat next to Rika, Tsukiís sister and her husband in one of the front pews, whilst the minister gave the eulogy from his pulpit. He described her life as ëbeing like a candle in the windí, it was such a clichÈ and the words were not enough for her. I was angry that the eulogy was too brief, like her life. My face was tight as tears ran down my cheeks.


The burial at the Cemetiere Montmartre seemed just as brief, as if the minister wanted to say a quick prayer and then get on with the next service. After the prayer, we each dropped white roses onto the casket as it descended into the earth and Rika covered her eyes, trying to repress a sob.


At the reception at the Consulate, Gerard in a fit of anger pushed me over a table and went for my throat. He blamed me for his daughterís death. Then after he was calmed down, he sat sobbing loudly and with shaking hands brushed away the tears from his face. I didnít need him to strangle me, I was already choking on my own feelings of guilt.


I gave my condolences to Hiromi and said that I would return Tsukiís family belongings, including the antique sword, before they returned to Japan. I didnít stay much longer, it really was a bad service.


THE OVAL MIRROR




When I arrived back at the studio, I was surprised to see outside the door a large packaged object, wrapped in brown paper and with a tag attached to it. On the tag was written,


Ý Ý ëI thought you needed a new reflection. A gift from Sephone.í


I brought it into the studio and immediately removed the wrapping. It was a beautiful antique, dark oak, oval, cheval mirror, with intricate carved figures around it and at its base.


I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at my reflection in the mirror. With my head buried in my hands, I peered out of tearful eyes at the gaunt, wretched reflection looking back at me. There wasnít anything new about that reflection, except that I was grieving and remembering a funeral service which I felt was a disgrace. I must have sat in that state of melancholia for hours, as night descended outside and darkness plummeted within me.


The despair I was feeling was overwhelming, I missed Tsuki, I didnít want to eat or move, but I wanted some relief and the white powder mixture was in easy reach. I mixed the white powder pigment and ayahuasca seeds again in the bowl and rapidly took it. The effect was immediate.


I studied the sketches of Sephone that I had done from the previous day. Were they done from reality, my memory or was it my imagination? Were they just glimpses from another dream that I had of being with her, I couldnít be sure what was real anymore? But then the proof was right there in the middle of the studio, the gift of the mirror that she had sent me. ëA new reflectioní, perhaps she meant to be able to see things in a different way, a different way of looking at what was reflected back at me?


I went back over to the mirror to inspect it more closely. I gently ran my fingers over the impressive work of the carved figures, of men and women in different acts of love and lust; I had no idea how old the mirror was, but it was a beautiful object of art. Then I ran my fingers over the cold surface of the mirror, as ripples formed beneath my fingertips as if I was touching a vertical surface of water. My reflection became distorted and repeated many times within each ripple. I pushed my arm deeper through the surface as the ripples increased, but it was like I was reaching for a pebble dropped into a bottomless pond, I was grasping at a vacuum and knew that I had to see with my own eyes what was on the other side.


I pulled my arm back and hesitantly put my face to the surface. At first timidly with my eyes closed, I pushed my face through and nervously I opened them. I was back at the edge of the forest again and the mirror was another gateway to this other world.





THE FOREST


I carefully stepped through the mirror into a scene of desolation, set against a blood red sky.Ý

There were broken masks and dismembered limbs from the tree figures scattered on the ground. Whilst disgusting creatures, Harpies, vulture-like birds with the heads of women, long claws and faces pale with hunger, tore and plucked at the flesh of the dying trees.


The Samurai sword was still protruding from the ground. I pulled it from the soil and struck out at one of the Harpies. It emitted a hideous shriek as it escaped the blow and flew off with its sisters. Then I could hear the sound of dogs barking in the distance.



I continued through the forest, when a small black scorpion crossed my path. It stopped and lifted its tiny head, as if to look at me, then disappeared behind a tree. I heard a hissing sound and suddenly an unusual figure emerged from behind the same tree. The upper-half of its body was that of a woman with silky black skin and six firm breasts; whilst the lower half of her body was similar to that of the scorpion, she was perched on four slender legs, with a long lethal hooked tail which emanated from between her buttocks.


Then the legs disappeared into her body, as she took on the form of a serpent. I backed away from her a few steps, as she slithered along the ground and came closer towards me, I could hear her say with a smooth, hissing voice,


Ý Ý ìIn my spiral line movement, I am the movement of creation. In my formlessness, I can Ý Ý take on any shape. I can be all women to you Frankie, I can even be your beloved Tsuki.î


Then she laughed and said,


Ý Ý ìCome to my hot wet lips, ever open to you.î


She put out a lengthy tongue towards me and with one of her six breasts enticingly cupped in her hand, licked an erect nipple. I was immediately repulsed by her and at the same time absorbed in her sick sensuality. Leisurely she stretched her arms upwards and pulled her tail up over herself. With its curved vicious end almost touching her face, its sickle point dripped hot steamy droplets of creamy poison onto her eager tongue. As she swallowed it down in gulps, she licked her lips appetizingly, luxuriating in the taste of her own poison nectar.


Sickened, I tried to strike her with the sword, but she evaded the blow and with a burst of laughter vaporized into the air. Again I could hear the sound of the dogs barking in the distance, but they seemed much closer this time.





THE GATEWAY TO HELL


I approached a clearing at the end of the forest and protruding from out of the earth was a voluminous mound, covered in foliage and framing an enormous cavity surrounded by sap green moss. I became distracted after I noticed that this colossal aperture appeared to be alive, as it opened and closed in pulsating movements, spewing out moisture between fleshy folds. I could only describe this vast hole with its swollen animated lips as some massive vaginal orifice.Ý


Even more disturbing was the massive carnivorous creature that was guarding these immense inviting lips, with three wolverine heads and the naked ebullient body of a woman, it devoured its prey and howled in ravenous rapture after each mouthful of flesh. What I believed I had seen was Cerbereus and this was the entrance to the Underworld.Ý


On his knees before this beast was a man, with each outstretched arm bound and pulled by chains attached to either side of the palpitating lips of the entrance, which also seemed to be stimulated by this sacrifice. With one of her legs straddled across his shoulder, the beast pulled him into her embrace, digging her sharp nails into his bare flesh as blood streamed down his back. Ripping into his flesh, she fondled one of her six breasts gratifyingly as she buried his head deep into her own genitalia.


After several moments of what seemed to be howling in heated ecstasy, she suddenly with both hands grabbed his head and tore it from his shoulders. She was bathed in blood as it sprayed upwards and all over her breasts, then howled in full-throated frenzy, before voraciously consuming what remained of his flesh.


I noticed on the ground near him also lay the carcasses of other men, what I presumed were artists and poets, as there were the remnants of unfinished canvasses, palettes splattered with blood and paint, broken brushes and uncompleted verses written on torn pages. They were the remains of sacrifices to a hungry beast.





RIKAíS CALL


I opened my eyes to the bright light of the rising sun reflected in the mirror in the early hours of the morning and again to the shrill sound of the telephone ringing next to the bed. Feeling tired, I unwillingly lifted the receiver to another call from Rika and also noticed that the canvas which I had placed over the broken glass of the window had fallen down.


She said that she had decided to stay a little longer in Paris with her children and although her husband had to return to Japan for business, had wanted to have a meeting with me to learn more about what had happened to her sister during the past few months and as to what could have caused her untimely death. Also the family wanted the rest of Tsukiís possessions returned to Japan, along with the Samurai sword which had belonged to their Grandfather, so they would be collected on November 1st. This day was obviously considered because it was also the day in France of remembrance and respect for the dead and ancestors.


ÝAlthough Rika had seemed polite I had sensed some ambivalence in her voice and was also distressed by the phone call, because I only had nine days to acquire the sword, which I hadnít seen or been able to find again in the studio, except for in my dreams. I looked outside the broken window and could see in the alley some dogs scavenging in the bins and heard them barking wildly as they fought over a piece of old meat which they had found. Whilst they were tearing at the flesh, I also noticed that there were very large scratch marks on my back.





THE HIGH PRIESTESS



Feeling anxious after Rikaís phone call and to pass some time, I decided to walk through some back streets in the 16th District. I unexpectedly came upon the shop of that beautiful mysterious woman, Angelina that had compassionately given me a glass of water, when I had blacked out the day of the street carnival. On the shop front in large golden letters was written ëLa Maison de Isisí and I could see through the window the mystical tarot card reader was busy predicting a customerís future.


I donít know if it was because of curiosity or the even deeper feelings of insecurity that were now surfacing in my life, but I considered it an appropriate time to accept Angelinaís offer of a reading of my fate. Not that I really believed in it, but my world had already become bizarre and perhaps I just needed to hear some strange answers to even stranger questions.


I opened the door as the previous customer left with an apprehensive expression on her face and entered the shop to the amicable smile of Angelina. She asked me to sit down in front of her at the small round table which she was patiently sitting behind. I glanced around the room which was dimly lit by candlelight and noticed some old, unusual artifacts and the strong smell of incense. Sitting quietly I observed Angelina as she reverently removed the illustrated cards from which she had just been reading from the purple cloth covering the table, wrapped them in a black silk cloth and placed them in a small decorated wooden box.


Then she got up from the table, walked to a corner of the shop to some shelves and reaching up to the top shelf removed another small wooden box and dusted it off. I couldnít help looking at her graceful figure and wondering if angels indulged in sex?Ý



(TO BE CONTINUEDÖÖ..)