For Those Who Dream Monsters (13 page)

Of his bones are coral made.

I came to an unsteady halt. I could hear my breath coming in short
gasps and my heart beating – a blessing, I thought, as it seemed to drown out
the hideous hiss of the river. Holding onto the rough bark of the logs, I
glanced down to my left.

Nothing: only blackness and the rushing, hissing water. I took a
deep breath and moved off slowly. It came again: a silvery flash in the water,
caught out of the corner of my eye.

I jerked my head in the direction of whatever it was, digging my
fingers into the wood and flattening myself against the logs for fear of
falling in. And I saw it: a pale shape floating just beneath the surface of the
inky water. In my fear, I thought I could make out a human face, and for a
moment I believed I was looking at a corpse.

Those are pearls that were his eyes.

But then the thing disappeared upriver, apparently swimming
against the strong current. Once I stopped trembling, I crawled as quickly as I
dared to the far side. I stood up shakily and looked upriver. Nothing there. As
my heartbeat returned to normal, I told myself that I’d imagined everything;
that my innate fear of death by water had conjured up visions of corpse-like
monsters to torment me.

Then I remembered the girl, and that unbearable feeling of sadness
and yearning returned. I hurried up the bank, unnerved by the willows, which
looked like frozen human forms in the half-light, and headed upriver.

As I approached the girls’ bonfire, I looked in vain for the girl
with the flaxen hair. The other girls didn’t notice me at first, but as my
search grew more desperate, a couple of them spotted me. They approached,
giggling, and searched me for any sign of a wreath, telling me off and shooing
me away amicably when they found no sign of one. I stumbled past the bonfire
and into the forest beyond.

The forest was a frightening place at night. The darkness was full of noises –
rustling and scuttling, as startled animals fled before me into the
undergrowth. Never for a moment did I stop to think about what I was doing. I
only knew that if I didn’t find the girl, my heart would break – indeed, it was
breaking already.

“Hello?” I called out, peering between the ancient trees. “Are
you there?” Only the wind answered, sighing in the branches. For a moment I
thought I glimpsed something white flitting in between the trees nearest the
river. “Hey!” I called out, and tried to run, but tripped on a root and almost
fell. I righted myself by grabbing hold of a tree, scratching my hand painfully
in the process. When I looked up again, there was nothing between the trees,
but shadow. I stumbled on in this inept and idiotic way, imagining from time to
time that I could see a wisp of blue-white hair ahead of me, stopping only when
the dawn chorus broke through my desperate reveries and a rosy glimmer appeared
in the east. Defeated and exhausted, I turned around and headed back along the
river.

The shouts and laughter, and glow of the bonfire reached me
before I broke clear of the tree line. I was surprised to find the young
villagers still partying. The boys and girls had largely paired off, and were
holding hands and leaping across the fairly feisty remains of the fire. Had I
been in a fit state to appreciate what was going on around me, I would no doubt
have concluded that their stamina and party spirit was something to be admired,
even if the local vodka was a contributing factor.

“Hey!” someone called, and then Piotr was patting me on the back
and laughing – a relieved kind of laugh. “Where have you been? I been worried
for you!”

“I’m sorry, Piotr,” I muttered gloomily.

“Where you were?”

“I was looking for the girl,” I told him, but didn’t expect to
make him understand.

“What girl? All the girls are here
…
” I must have looked as shattered and
distressed as I was feeling, because Piotr put his arm around my shoulders and
said, “Come on, my friend, we go home.” I protested weakly, mumbling something
about having to look for the girl. “Come on, man,” Piotr steered me in a
friendly, but firm manner away from the river. “You look terrible. You need
sleep.”

“But
…
”

“I help you look for girl tomorrow
…
or actually, later today.” Piotr winked at
a cute redheaded girl and whispered something to her that made her smile, then
led me back to his grandmother’s house.

I fell into an exhausted sleep – punctuated by dreams of floating corpses, dark
forests, and the girl disappearing among the trees – and woke at lunchtime. I
got dressed and sloped downstairs, presumably looking awful, as a worried look
appeared on Piotr’s grandmother’s face when she saw me. She asked Piotr a
question and he shrugged her off, in a not unfriendly manner. He pushed an
empty chair away from the table, inviting me to sit down. I forced myself to
sit, but every nerve in my body was crying out to get back outside and look for
the girl.

Piotr’s grandmother busied herself at the stove, and moments
later set a bowl of hot hunter’s stew down in front of me, along with a small
basket of fresh rye bread. I hadn’t eaten since the previous evening and yet,
when Piotr’s grandmother gestured for me to eat, I found that I couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling miserable and ungrateful.

“You feel bad?” asked Piotr, the concern in his face echoing that
in his grandmother’s.

“The girl,” I said. “I have to find her.” I rose swiftly,
apologised again to Piotr’s grandmother, and headed for the door.

“Wait!” Piotr got up and ran after me. “I come with you!”

A couple of hours later, Piotr persuaded me to return to the house for fear
that I would pass out. Reluctantly I succumbed, drinking a cup of sweet tea and
packing a chunk of bread, before heading back out, much to the chagrin of
Piotr’s grandmother.

“I come with you,” said Piotr, somewhat less enthusiastically
than earlier.

“No,” I insisted. “You stay here; your grandmother looks
worried.” I left quickly, hearing Piotr and his grandmother arguing as I walked
away.

I spent the rest of the day following the Swita River first one
way, then the other. Once or twice I thought I saw something pale shimmering in
the water, but when I turned to look, it was gone. When my feet grew too sore
to keep walking, I returned to the house and tried to sleep. I tossed and
turned, and attempted to free my mind of thoughts, but whenever I closed my
eyes, I saw the girl waving to me from the row of willows. The terrible
yearning and hopelessness gnawed away at me, and I’m ashamed to say that I
cried into my pillow. I finally dozed off a little before dawn, and got up late
again.

As I entered the kitchen, Piotr’s grandmother eyed me with
unease.

“
Piotrusiu
!” she called, and a moment later Piotr
appeared, smiling at me in a worried way that I was coming to dislike. There
was a brief exchange between the two of them, during which the look on the old
woman’s face became progressively more alarmed. She said something to Piotr,
who laughed, causing her to brandish a wooden spoon at him in a less than
friendly gesture. She cast me an extremely troubled glance, then returned her
attention to the frying pan.

“Are you okay?” asked Piotr.

“I’m fine,” I said, forcing myself to smile at the old lady as
she set a plate of ham and eggs down in front of me before sitting down
opposite and staring at me intently.

“What you are going to do today?” questioned Piotr with feigned
cheerfulness; then added doubtfully, “You are going to look for your
grandmother’s village?”

“No.”

“You are going to look for girl?”

“Yes.”

Piotr’s grandmother evidently asked Piotr what I’d said. The boy
translated, and the old lady leapt up from the table, glanced at me, then let
out a tirade at her grandson, who was looking more and more embarrassed.

“What did she say?” I asked.

“Nothing,” said Piotr.

“Tell me, please.”

“It’s rubbish. Stupid story.”

“Piotr!” I pleaded, and the old lady interjected on my behalf.

“Okay,” Piotr finally gave in. “My grandmother says your girl is
Rusalka.”

“Who?”

“Rusalka. A bad spirit.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s an old story that the peasants tell.”

“Go on.”

“They say that if a girl dies
…
violent death, or kill herself
…
she becomes Rusalka. A bad spirit. They live in water and
in trees.”

“Like nymphs?” If I hadn’t been in such a sorry state, I probably
would have found Piotr’s story entertaining.

“Yes
…
Stupid story.”

“Yes,” I agreed. Then I noticed Piotr’s grandmother still staring
at me and nodding her head gravely. “But please tell your grandmother not to
worry. The girl I saw isn’t a
…
Rusalka. She’s a girl, and I’m worried that something
might have happened to her. I need to find her.” I got up and headed out,
stopping Piotr from following me with a staying hand gesture.

The day passed much as the previous one, except that the sadness
and feeling I can only describe as emptiness was even stronger than before. It
was as though I’d lost a limb, but could still feel intense pain where it had
once been.

I went home when it got dark, and went to bed without speaking to
Piotr. I couldn’t face his questions or his grandmother’s look of concern. I
lay awake for a long time, looking at the ceiling. When I finally closed my
eyes, the full moon rose outside my window, its light unnerving me even through
closed lids. I could swear I heard someone whispering my name, and I turned to
the window. The moonlight was silver-blue, like the girl’s hair. The whispering
came again and the sighing of the wind in the branches of the tree outside.
Eventually I could lie there no longer. I got dressed, crept as quietly as I
could along the creaky wooden floor, and headed for the river.

The fields were a pale grey, and beyond them the river sparkled silver. I
planned to start at the makeshift bridge, then work my way upriver and into the
forest. I walked along distractedly and didn’t notice that I was approaching
the water a little upriver of my chosen starting point. In fact, it wasn’t
until I was at the river’s edge that I noticed I’d come out amidst the willows
– in almost the same place as I’d seen the girl. Startled out of my stupor by
that thought, I looked across to where she’d stood. I thought I heard my name
whispered on the wind, and then I saw a willow move in the pale light. No, not
a willow – her! Standing on the opposite side of the river, now as she had the
first time I’d seen her, but even more beautiful in the moonlight, even more
heart-stopping. A shiver ran down my spine and goose bumps appeared on my skin
despite the warm June night. The girl’s hair was so pale that it glowed blue in
the moon’s rays, and her lips were the colour of coral. I tried, but I couldn’t
see her eyes. She smiled at me and waved, beckoning me to join her on the other
side of the river. Mesmerised, I took a step forward, then stopped as my foot
slipped on the soft mud of the riverbank and I nearly lost my footing. I looked
down at the rushing, roaring current and felt dizzy. But I had to get to her
somehow.

“Wait!” I pleaded. “I’ll cross over the bridge!” But she was
already moving off in the opposite direction. “Wait, please!” I ran a few steps
towards the bridge, then turned quickly and ran after the girl, keeping track
of her across the river as she moved in and out of the willows, smiling and
waving to me. Each time her slim form disappeared from my field of vision, it
was like a stab to my heart. I’d missed my opportunity to cross the bridge to
her side of the river, but I wouldn’t let her out of my sight for more than a
split-second.

“Hey, slow down! Please!” I followed her upriver. The solitary
willows gave way to clusters of birch, oak and pine, and soon we were in the
forest, the river between us all the while. She was the most beautiful thing
one could imagine; she was a silvery-blue angel, shining among the dark
monoliths of the trees. I panicked as she disappeared from view, and quickened
my pace.

“Where are you?” I practically begged, hurrying deeper and deeper
into the forest. “Please! Where are you?” Light-headed with anxiety, I stopped
and peered across the river. For a moment all was still and I was alone with my
own heartbeat once again. A stab of fear and that overpowering sense of loss
assaulted me for a moment, and then I saw her. She moved from behind a tree and
stood directly opposite me on the far side of the river. Naked. The moonlight
reflected off her lily-white skin and blue-blonde hair. Her body was
perfection, and she stood quite still, gazing at me, frozen like the alabaster
statue of a goddess. I heard my name whispered in the air, and the girl moved
so gracefully that she seemed to float down to the water’s edge. She waved to
me, beckoning me to approach the river on my side. I got as close to the water
as I dared, then stopped and watched the girl go in.