A for Android: Fragrance of Madness

A for Android: Fragrance of Madness

There is a faint and familiar scent in the air. I open my eyes in the dark. I know the scent. It is her, her natural musk after a patrol. I sit up in the bed and listen. There are no sounds. I get up and walk to the closed guest room door pulling the trousers on. I open the door. The apartment is silent, there is no one there. Still I can smell her. Sharp, deep pain pierces my chest.

I don’t put on lights. There are no curtains and the windows let in enough illumination. Her absence slaps me in the face. It always does in the nighttime. In daylight with people around I manage. I can put on a brave face. I tell them that I accept the situation. They believe me, or pretend to. At night I’m alone. Without her. From somewhere comes the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. She liked coffee.

I sit on the sofa and caress the ring on my finger. Ring of fond memories. A leprechaun gave it to me. The pain remains the same but instead of the arguments and grief I see the good times. Smiles and laughs. Tenderness. Caring. That is its magick. It offers comfort in the form of soothing memories. All the same I can’t stop the tears.

I close my eyes and see her. There she is, on the phone talking to her parents. I can not make out the words but she sounds happy. There's a whiff of my aftershave on her. She has touched my bottle in the bathroom to move it out of the way. I think she hears me coming as she lowers her voice. Her smile stays. It’s her father she is talking to. I can tell from the way she stands leaning with one hand on the desk. She called her parents every day.

I visited her parents the day after I returned from central Asia. Where she did not return from.Their house is orderly, each item in its exact spot. There is bisquits and tea. Their sad, non-blaming eyes as I crush their world. A dog nuzzles my leg and smells of freshly cut grass. Henri takes it out for a walk. Selma gives me a photo of her little girl. In it Nadia is reading a newspaper and looks up over her dark glasses. I see her eyes. They are beautiful. I get up and walk to the kitchen sink.

I remember all the times she looked elsewhere while correcting her glasses or replacing the visor. To not look foolish. She thought no one would take her seriously. I would have. She was my goddess and I accepted her as she was, just as she accepted me. We worked well together on every level. I don't believe in soulmates. She was mine. I force a glass of water down despite the strangling feel on my throat.

The memories hammer at me. I walk to her bedroom door but don't enter. They are good memories but they still possess the capacity to overwhelm. I set my hand on the door handle but again I do not open it. I see her everywhere in my mind. The sun on her skin at the beach. Concerned frown in Atlas Park when we talked for the first time. Frozen breath from her mouth on the slopes on Khan Tengri. The tears when she told how her brother died. I can’t breath.

I walk to the living room window and pull it open. The cool air washes over me but I still feel like bursting apart. Effortlessly I hop on the windowsill and jump. I plunge down like a lifeless bird. As the ground rushes towards me I wonder how close I could get and still be able to pull up before the impact. A meter? Two? What if I fail? Three floors to go and I cancel the gravity for me. It is not in me to take such risks. I soar higher. The nightair from the bay smells of salt and seaweed.

I have thought of following her, joining her. I am not going to. There is no mindspace where her essence is stored. There is no domain of the dead that any man could breach. When we die there's no higher plane. We just cease, blink out of existence. If I die I will win nothing, only lose.

People say she is not dead as long as I remember her. I know they mean well but they could hardly be more cruel. They bestow it upon me to remember her, saying that if I forget her she is dead. If I ever forget her I will kill her. She of course is dead already. All I can do is honour the way that she lived by. She is gone and nothing will bring her back.

I remember Nadia after we failed to protect our target and an aged hero died. How she reeked of disappointment. She could have blamed it on me but she did not. The intensity of the memories grows. I feel her touch on my brow as she looks at me tenderly and tells me to always fly higher. We are both happy. Earlier in life I try to kiss her after she has asked me to spend a few days thinking. She forgives me the attempt. Weeks later I hold her in an embrace when she cries for the only time that I have seen. I curl up in mid-air. How can a void hurt so much? How can an empty heart weigth this much? I shatter and splinter.

My defenses that I usually manage to keep during the day fall. The personal hell that is kept under check breaks loose. I see fingers reaching at me. I feel cold. Dead. The fingers are about to kill me. Blindly I plummet towards the window and apartment. I’m trembling, in fact shaking violently. I only scrape myself a little on window frame before coliding with the wall. For the first time I see it. How it happened.

Azure Sting crouched on the grass in Atlas Park scattered relics near her. Somehow she slipped from my flight field. I land next to her and offer a hand. She slips her right hand from the glove and reaches towards me with her left. I pull her closer and she smiles. Fingers reach towards my face. My mind flares up with searing agony. Convulsing on the apartment floor I feel her ripping up all the memories that I buried. Failures. Shame. Secrets. I wish Nadia was here, touching me, setting things right. How can I do this without her? I can't.

I live through it all again in chronologically displaced fragments. Kitia leaving me for treating her so coldly. The feeling of betrayal when she begins her relationship with my sister. Dad's high expectations and me not living up to them. Emmily taunting me and calling me impotent. The shame of just watching the Rikti kill that man from the shadows. I'm twelve and I kill a squirrel for no reason at all. I make bad choices and destroy what I had with Nadia. Sour realisation in the afterglow as Katya starts talking about her fees. I see a twisted body flung through the air into the lake. Blissfully my mind shuts down into oblivion.

When I come to it is dark. Only the windows let in illumination. I crouch on the floor in a fetal position and listen. I hear nothing. There is a faint scent in the air. It is her. I know it. Fresh from the shower. I keep my eyes closed just a while more. If I do not open them I do not have to face her being gone.

Another excellently written piece of work, Coile.

I especially like your use of imagery in your writing.

I rate this at 11 out of 10.

keep up the great work mate

Very good writing Coile. It was quite dark and had kind of oppressive / anxious feeling to it, and still avoided the melodramatic angst. More like a clean, cold, sharp pain layed out piece by piece. I also like how it shows that Coile's breakdown isn't rooted in Nadia's death but Azure Sting ripping his mind up. (Although I assume that the subtle hints and connections are all utterly lost if you don't know the character / read the earlier stories).

Pyranha

Indeed another excellent piece. Great use of imagery, very effective. I am amazed - always some new improvement to your style Coile, (seemingly) effortlessly writing great literature.

Reading all five stories consecutively, I feel like I'm flicking through an albulm or reading a journal of this legendary man, and I'm becoming quite a fan.