The Songs from the Attic
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Slowly, she was pulling me in closer. I was on the road to Eden, to infinite happiness. The Garden was contained within her. Her other hand slowly came down upon my wrist. She stroked my arm gently. And suddenly there was pain. The feeling of tearing flesh. Instinctively--though not by my own will--I pulled my arm away, but her grasp tightened around my wrist, and there was more pain. My mortal, curious, longing eyes met her immortal, auspicious ones, and suddenly I felt myself being lifted. "...Ride Caroline....Ride Caroline...on this, soaring machine...Come..." I knew what was happening, and...
Slowly, she was pulling me in closer. I was on the road to Eden, to infinite happiness. The Garden was contained within her. Her other hand slowly came down upon my wrist. She stroked my arm gently. And suddenly there was pain. The feeling of tearing flesh. Instinctively--though not by my own will--I pulled my arm away, but her grasp tightened around my wrist, and there was more pain. My mortal, curious, longing eyes met her immortal, auspicious ones, and suddenly I felt myself being lifted. "...Ride Caroline....Ride Caroline...on this, soaring machine...Come..." I knew what was happening, and there was more eagerness than fear. She was pulling me from my mortal womb, tearing me from my delicate flesh. She was pulling me into her world. A feeling of strong warmth. The woman stretched her thin, beautiful lips into a gentle smile. And then I woke up. My arm was throbbing. My textbook was soaked through in a thick, warm liquid. The bottom of my wrist was sliced open. I was bleeding.
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