malaveaux (malaveaux) wrote,
malaveaux
malaveaux

“The snow is snowing,
The wind is blowing,
But I can weather the storm!
Why do I care how much it may storm?
I've got my love to keep me warm!”

Her voice is boisterous and lively as she energetically sings, her red curls bouncing as she tosses her head. She moves about the stage, turning, almost dancing as she belts out the song.

“I can't remember,
A worse December,
Just watch those icicles form,
Why do I care if icicles form?
I've got my love to keep me warm!”


At the end of the second verse he is completely awake. He must have fallen asleep while sitting at one of the tables in the bar. He’s mesmerized as he watches her, back in the area where he saw the stage before. She’s dressed in a simple white blouse and a black pencil skirt, her legs sheathed in black seamed stockings ending in incredibly high heeled shoes. Her voice is clear as a bell and she’s obviously delighted, singing her heart out.

Just as he’s about to slap himself to see if he is dreaming, she looks at him, a gleam in her eye and she smiles suggestively as she continues.

“Off with my overcoat,
Off with gloves,
I need no overcoat,
I'm burning with love!

My heart's on fire,
The flame grows higher,
So I will weather the storm.
Why do I care how much it may storm?
I've got my love to keep me warm!”

She ends the song, laughing as the last note fades away. She stands there a moment, so full of life and their eyes lock. She continues to smile for a moment but it fades as a look of confusion crosses her face. She steps off the stage and walks toward him, continuing to stare at him at him as if afraid to break contact. She stops a few feet from him.

“You see me. Don’t you?” She asks her voice unbelieving.

He nods and barely replies, “Yes.”

She gasps and holds her hand to her mouth. “Do you see them as well?”

He moves his head side to side, not sure what she is speaking of. “See who?”

She makes a gesture that includes the room. “Them.”

Taking his eyes from her, he quickly glances around the room. “I don’t see anyone.” He turns to look back at her, surprised for an instant that she hasn’t disappeared.

“Are you sure?” She seems desperate, her voice cracking.

He stares at her intently, drinking in the sight of her. She frowns briefly. “Please. Do you see them?”

He turns again and squints his eyes in the darkened room. For a split second he sees a room filled with faint shadowy figures, all seated around tables, watching him and the singer, these faces eager for some sort of recognition. Shocked, he stands quickly, knocking over the chair he’d been sitting in, a look of dread on his face.

He feels a faint pressure on his shoulder and turns back to the woman. She seems to go almost transparent and then is solid and opaque again.

“You do see them.” She says, stating a fact.

He nods down to her as she gazes up to him, her eyes roaming over him in puzzlement.

“Who are they?” He asks quietly.

“Some …died long ago. Most of them recently. This place is like…a limbo for them. I try to keep them entertained.” She shakes her head sadly, her hair spilling around her face, hiding her eyes as she turns to step away, looking around the room.

“The hurricane. Do you know of it?” She looks over her shoulder to him, her eyes beseeching.

He nods and frowns.

She turns to face him once more and whispers. “So many left, forsaken.” She makes the sign of the cross quickly and closes her eyes.

“Marisol?” He says her name, more as confirmation than a question.

Her eyes flash open and there’s a quick intake of breath.

“You are looking for me! Help me.” She holds her hands out to him, imploring, as she fades to nothingness.
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