The City of Lost Souls

Arcanum Corvus is an author. He has a book on the New York Times Bestseller list called, Amissus animarum. There's a catch, nobody know's what he looks like. Matter of fact, nobody knows who he is; well there are a few. Arcanum has a past, and he cautiously exposes it through his characters. There's more to Arcanum than meets the eye. So who is the mysterious author, nobody truly knows.


6. Chapter Six

     I had finally crawled into bed. I laid there on my back; my sheet draped over me like a loin cloth. My fingers interlaced, and cradling my head on top of the pillow. I stared up at the ceiling of my bedroom. The crest that held the over head light fixture looked amazing. The crisp autumn moonlight cast shadows across my large iron bed frame. The sheets looked as white as snow. They were cool, and soft against my warm skin. I just imagined laying here with her. I could feel her skin beneath my finger tips. Her beautiful long hair, splayed out behind her almost as if it were on display. I could imagine her fingers, gently playing with my chest hair. When Abby was relaxed, or lost in thought; she’d make small circles with her fingers. I would probably lean over, kiss the top of her head before falling asleep. Now at this point, that wouldn’t happen. I would be  lucky enough, if she ever returned my phone call. The only company I was sharing my bed with was, a glass of Brandy, and Poe’s poem The Raven. 

      I’d stirred in the night, and felt warmth beside me. I felt around on the bed, but it was gone. Then I heard noises outside my bedroom door. I smiled, she’d shown up in the middle of the night. Abby could no longer distance herself from me. I smiled, with my eyes still closed, I recited my favorite part of The Raven.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"—

Merely this and nothing more.

       She smiled, “So I’m your Lenore?” I looked over at her standing in the door way. She smiled, as she stood wearing only one of my shirts. Her soft breast shown through the thin white linen. Her nipples showed through, indicating she was excited. I shifted, so I was on my side, using my elbow to prop me up. 
       “Come join me love. I miss you.” 
        She padded across the hardwood floor, and it creaked ever so. The smile on her face, and the twinkle in her eyes showed me all was forgiven. She placed a soft delicate kiss upon my lips. “Ego vos desiderabat.”
        I smiled, “You as well.” I shifted us, so she was beneath me. I pushed her legs apart using my own. I leaned into her kissing along her neck, “Formose amans. Faciam coniungere. Dimitte me futurum apud vos. Sim parte.” She moaned softly, pushing her hips up to meet mine. 
        “Yes.” She whispered breathlessly. 
        “Caw, Caw.” A pause to the harsh sound. “Caw, Caw.” I opened an eye, and it sat right on the branch outside my window. I laid on my stomach, my face half obscured by my pillow. The glass that held my Brandy the night before, was knocked over on my nightstand. My watch was still on my wrist. I moved so I could see the time. The small hand pointed to the eight, the long hand on the six.
        “Bloody useless bird. Piss off. It's Saturday morning” 
        It mustn’t have appreciated my name calling. It proceeded to keep cawing, until I withdrew the covers, and sat up.
        “Fuck off already." 
        I grabbed the remote for my iHome, and turned it on. “Say something I’m giving up on you.” I sighed, rolling my eyes. I looked up towards what people would assume their personal, deity might be.
         “Listen I’ve bloody screwed up. I know that. I’m a twat. She deserves so much better. Now please tell your mate in the music department, I’ve caught his drift.” 

       I stretched, and pushed off the bed, and walked to the bathroom. I put the seat back down, flushed, then washed my hands. I grabbed my boxers off the end of the bed, and slid them up over my overly excited appendage. 
     “Why are you so happy, and I’m so miserable?” 
     If my penis had a face, it’d be grinning at my misery. I wasn’t miserable for a lack of sexual feeding. I truly felt like part of my heart had died. It had turned black, and just slowly started crumbling under the pressure of guilt.

     I made my way down the stairs, and turned heading down the hall to the kitchen. Sitting there in my kitchen, with her head on the table was Abby. There was a half empty bottle of vodka, and a shot glass lying on it’s side. Her hair was stuck to her face. I rubbed my face, accessing the situation I’d just walked into. I carefully lifted her off the chair, and she was like a rag doll. Her breath reeked of vodka. I cradled her against me, and walked back upstairs to my bedroom. 

        I laid her down, and she curled up on her side. I carefully untied each sneaker, and tucked them under the bed. 
     She let out a soft whimper, “I’m sorry.” 
I stroked her cheek gently, “Shh love. It’s going to be ok.” 
     I covered her up carefully, and closed the curtains in my room. She snored softly, curled up in the middle of my massive bed. She looked so raw. She was tiny, but now, even tinier. I leaned against my bureau and watched her, with my arms crossed. The rise and fall of her chest, her soft sobs indicated it had been a horrible night for her. I had to check, just to make sure. I moved the blanket slightly, and looked at her wrist. Faded scars were all I saw. I said a silent prayer, thanking whomever looked over us. She could have hurt herself, and it would have been my fault. Instead she got drunk at my house, and had passed out in my kitchen. I kissed her forehead, and made my way downstairs once again. 

        I picked up my phone, and texted Cassiel. 
     ‘Good Morning. I don’t know if I can make dinner tonight. I’ve had an unexpected guest. I rather tend to them, no offense.‘ 
     My phone vibrated on the counter. ‘
      Guest? Listen a one night stand isn’t a “Guest” Arcanum. That’s called a drunk regret. 
I growled, and feverishly typed back.
     ‘Actually you twat, Abby showed up at some point. She drunk half of the bottle of vodka you left here. I never opened it. She came at some point after I’d gone to bed. I found her passed out at my kitchen table.’
     I hit send, and poured myself a cup of coffee, setting it on the table, before retrieving the Sunday Boston Globe. I walked out to my front stoop, and picked up the heavy bundle, wrapped carefully in plastic, and walked back inside. Snoring ensued upstairs, and I half smiled, half sighed. She would be feeling that later. I set the paper down on my hall table, and quietly made my way back upstairs. I left a bottle of aspirin, and a glass of water on the nightstand for her. I jotted a quick note.

     “Noodle take this before you even get out of bed.” 

I kissed her forehead, and shut the door behind me as I let her sleep it off. 

      I was sitting down at the kitchen table, and my phone vibrated again. I looked over and it said, Cassiel Text Message. I grumbled, and slide my finger across the screen, and keyed in my passcode. 
     ‘Congratulations! Have you considered who the real twat is out of the two of us. You broke the poor girls heart. She then comes to your house, get’s blotto and passes out in your kitchen. Blimey, you’re one hell of a bloke. Wait until I tell Emily what a bloody arse you are.’

     I shook my head, I didn’t reply. I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t throw the fucking electronic device across my kitchen. My brother acted like he’d never done a god damn thing wrong in his life. His penis had probably been around the world. It could have probably held a seat in the United Nations. I wasn’t innocent, but I wasn’t a reckless drunk like he’d had been in his university years. I pulled the paper over, and removed it from the protective plastic sleeve. I scanned over the various articles, I was reading an article about the performance of The Raven that would be taking place a week from this sunday at Emerson College. I thought it could be a fun time, if Abby would like to join me. 

      After skimming over the major articles, I finally calmed down enough to reply to Cassiel. 
     ‘It wasn’t as if I intended to hurt her. I never knew she had feelings for me. I’ve been oblivious since Ornella. I tried to get a hold of Abby. Jesus I referred to her as Lenore.‘
     I knew when Cassiel didn’t reply right away, a phone call was coming my way. Sure enough, two seconds later, it vibrated continuously with his name. 
     Laughter ensued on the other end.
      “Blooody Hell. Were you conscious when you referred to her as that.” 
     I sighed, “No arse I was dreaming. I was rudely awaken by a bloody crow cawing outside my window.” 
     Cassiel was in hysterics, “Oh this is bloody fucking brilliant. You were laying there playing with your bollocks, and picturing Abigail as Lenore.” The laughing fit ensued. 
     “Are you done yet? I will box your ears off.” I spoke with a dry tone. 
     “To hell you’ll box my ears. You’re the one getting all brassed off over a dream. I would have loved to hear your chin wag. What a cock up you’ve made telling me this now. What are you going to call the girl if you bomb her? Lenore?” 
     I had lost my patience at this point, “Pompous arse. I’m bloody knackered. I think my brother might actually feel some remorse. Nope my nitwit of a brother, is busy getting his jolly’s off on my expense. So you and Emily have fun at dinner tonight. I hope your shit’s served cold.”

        I hung up and set the phone down carefully. I was so angry with him. One round of boxing that asshole, and I would feel so much better. I’d never given him so much shit, like he’s always done to me. I went back to reading the showing of The Raven. Tickets were cheap enough. It would incorporate a few other pieces of Poe as well. I called the box office, and bought two. I decided I would surprise Abby. If she said no, well I’d have an empty seat, and that would be fine. They always say, “Misery loves company.” 

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