Cherry Bark and Almonds

Cherry bark and almonds.

The scent overwhelmed me before I was even awake. I opened my eyes, the room still dark in the twilight hours of the morning. A faint light crept in through the tiny window across from my bed, a slight bluish hue crossing the floor.

I sat up and reached for the glass of water next to the bed. The scent was only getting stronger. Shakily I took a sip. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back slowly as the cool water made its way down my throat.

And in my mind’s eye, there she was.

Beautiful.

Her long blond hair cascaded down her back, flowing as she danced against the sunlight. Her sundress was flowery and perfectly fitted – the skirt swung slightly as she moved. I could hear the music; it was what had led me directly to her. She’d been playing a classical piece, dancing on her toes against the backdrop of the lake. It had been such joy to watch her, so graceful. Each movement aligned perfectly with the sound of the orchestra as it drifted from the speaker she had placed near the blanket she’d set down.

I breathed in the scent again. Her image flashed before me a second time. Smiling, dancing, joyful. The arcs of her body created illustrious shapes against the backdrop of the sun. It had taken all the courage I could muster to approach her. But I knew I had to be careful. She was different.

The moment she saw me I knew it had gone all wrong. I’d expected the surprise – clearly, she had thought she was alone. I tried to explain. I tried to make her see that I appreciated her, how beautiful she was. By that time, her face had twisted into something different. She was afraid, angry, cornered. When she opened her mouth to scream it triggered something in me, that primal urge I had tried to fight so many times before. It always won. This time I succumbed to it even faster than usual. I grabbed her and covered her mouth. As I did, I breathed in the rich fragrance of her hair.

Cherry bark and almonds.

The smell had been so sweet. Such a contrast to what now seemed like a wild animal thrashing in my arms.

I had to quiet her.

As we moved toward the lake it was like she understood. Something in her gave way, and now we were dancing together. I had taken the lead, and she would follow perfectly. I’ll never forget her eyes locking onto mine through the clear water of the lake. Eyes that would hold my gaze even after I released my grip, and she lay still just beneath the surface.

When it was over all I could do was look at her. Her face was bloating, lips turning blue. I stared at her for what felt like hours, watching her once agile limbs stiffen into something immovable.

Nothing I hadn’t seen before. But she was different. She’d fought so hard. Most of them never got the chance. For a moment I was almost sorry – something that had only ever happened the very first time.

It hadn’t even occurred to me how much she would be missed, or how aggressively they would search for her. They found her exactly as I had left her. Lifeless, but beautiful, laying near some wildflowers growing on the edge of the lake. Even then, she was radiant to me. Art rendered in movement, now lying eternally in stillness.

It had been years. There had been so many others. But none like her. They were less beautiful, less spirited, less in every way. She was my masterpiece. I was caught shortly after, and the trial didn’t take long at all. I knew it wouldn’t; I knew I had been reckless this time.

I inhaled deeply again in my tiny cell. The scent was stronger now, and I was afraid to open my eyes. She’d done this before. She did it a lot. I knew what I would see.

Her face. Hanging in the air in front of me – contorted, bloated, angry.

She would stay until my heart was beating so fast it felt like it might burst out of my chest. Then the sounds would come. Screams, lowering into gurgles, then screams again. It would go on for hours. And always her. Never any of the others. It was as if she could unleash the fury of every victim all by herself. As though she’d been nominated by some ghostly counsel to ensure I never sleep again.

Her presence was regular, torturous, and always announced the same way.

Cherry bark and almonds.

The first time I smelled it, the scent thrilled me. Now it filled me with dread. A complete opposite effect of such a sweet-smelling aroma.

I refused to open my eyes. Then it happened.

She touched me.

Icy, fleeting. Her hand grazed my neck; in the exact place I’d put mine on hers.

I felt my heart jump. Once. Then twice.

I opened my eyes.

There she was.

Different this time. Her face was angry as usual, but she wasn’t screaming.

She was smiling.

I watched her ghostly hand trace a circle around my heart.

The terrifying smile grew wider.

I felt my heart jump again. My eyes turned themselves to the ceiling.

She was there.

She parted her lips as if to scream, but I didn’t hear her voice alone. It was all of them. As though every victim had joined together to form a single orchestral nightmare.

Suddenly I was numb. Blackness crept into the edges of my vision, slowly consuming her image until it faded into just that awful smile.

Two days later, I woke up in the infirmary. When I went to press the button to call for a nurse, my hand stayed still at my side. I tried to move it again. Nothing.

I tried to move my legs. Nothing.

All I was able to do was turn my head. I cried out in anguish, hoping for a doctor. For anyone, really.

That’s when I heard the prison guard talking to the nurse.

“I figured something would happen sooner or later, the way he screams at night. Thought it would be a heart attack, not a stroke.”

“This was a major stroke,” the nurse said. “He was lucky.”

The word hung in the air. “Lucky”.

No way.

Hours later I was loaded into the wheelchair that would become my prison inside my cell. I am only able to move my head now. And I dread sleep.

She still comes to me. But she’s no longer bloated. She’s not blue, or angry.

She’s dancing.

The way she did when I first saw her.

But now I am the one who is stiff. I am the one who can’t move.

And she is effortlessly sweeping from one side of my cell to the other.

Smiling, joyful.

Always locking eyes with me before she disappears.

Every time she’s here, my room fills with her scent.

Cherry bark and almonds.