With a Sparkle and Glow

CHAPTER 1

“That dress looks stunning on you,” I whispered to myself. 

The moonlight shimmered as it reflected across the wide hill, illuminating the few wanderers below on a hot, windless, night. The perfect night. She easily caught my eye as she sparkled like a second moon, her radiant energy felt even as I sat on this hill, carrying out my nightly routines. It had been typical that I went on a stroll atop the hill near my house, through the woods where the songbirds sang, the lightly traversed grassy path providing me an odd source of comfort. The perfect night. I walked past the bumps in the ground, the grooves molding to my feet as if it were a custom path laid out just for me. The midnight chatter filled the air with life--something so precious--as I hummed along. As I approached the girl her dress sparkled ever so slightly more, and I did my signature introduction. A slight wave, a smile, a nod of the head, and an outstretched hand. She approached me with the warmest smile that seemed to heat up the area even more, as the glow in her eyes enveloped me in a warped reality. The perfect night.

“What are you doing out here alone at night?” she casually asked.

I tried to hide my enchantment as I whispered back, “Well couldn’t I be asking the same for you? What’s a pretty girl doing out here all by herself?”

She leaned against my shoulder, whispering closer to my ear.

“It doesn’t have to be that way, does it?”

With no breeze, her breath streaked across my face, revealing she was clearly intoxicated. I withheld the urge to vomit as I held her at an arm’s distance, and gently tugged on her hand in the direction I had come from.

“No, miss, it surely does not.”

The walk back alternated between my usual solidarity, feeling the bumps and grooves, integrating myself into the midnight song, and caring for the young lady, who upon closer inspection, could clearly not walk more than a few meters without trailing off the path, tripping on a bump, or leaning against my shoulder. 

Amidst the perpetuous observing, relaxing, and babysitting, I had managed to get her to my house atop the hill by the second hour of the day, which was proudly adorned with my many hunting prizes and embellished with black-and-white framed photos of once-living family members.

Clearly unable to do anything for herself, I laid her down on the floor by my bed, to which she murmured  barely audible words of thanks. Personally exhausted from my walk taking over an hour longer than expected, I laid down to rest myself, dozing off almost immediately.

CHAPTER 2

I woke up to the streaky sunbeams piercing through my crystalline windows. I peeked through the binoculars conveniently situated beside my bed and noticed the village below the hill awakening as well. Only the earliest of workers, the bakers getting ready to sell their overpriced breakfasts, the street sweepers brushing the unbearably dirty cobblestone streets, and the mail delivery boys who were much too young to be out of school, had began their daily shifts, as many of the shutters still remained closed. But not mine. An observationist like me must wake up early to find the patterns and small details in the citizens’ daily lives. 

Only did the muffled groans below my bed turn me away from the binoculars as I looked to the ground to find the lady I had taken home last night. Her dress still shone a beautiful silver, and as she opened her eyes, they glowed even more intensely under the growing light as the sun pushed its way above the village and to me.

“Well look who’s woken up,” I quietly remarked.

She put her hands to her head and rolled over mumbling something incoherent. I made my way out of bed and kneeled down to where she was laying and grabbed her hands. The smoothness caught me off guard, and I marveled at how she appeared poised, even after a long night followed by a terrible hangover.

“Come on, let me get you cleaned up,” I said, as she nodded and tried to push herself up to a standing position.

Even though we had only met for a night, she already seemed perfect. Just perfect.

~~

The morning wore on as the village came to life. No more was the perfect solitude from a midnight walk or a perfect sunrise spent at the binoculars, I had simply passed the peak of my day. The young lady sat in my spotless foyer, nibbling on a sandwich I had made for her as I went about in my daily rituals. Relax. Observe. Clean. Repeat. It had become rather arduous relishing in the same small feats each day, but the prospect of calling the beautiful lady sat in the foyer my own reminded me to paint myself as hardworking and tidy. 

I had just strolled back into the foyer after emerging from my bedroom with my old broom when I noticed the crumb trail leading outside. I sprinted out the slightly cracked open door, broom still in hand, just as I saw the sparkle of her dress disappear into the forest path beside my house.

“Miss!” I cried out, pumping my legs harder to catch up.

But she ran faster. It wasn’t until I had long dropped the broom and panting, red-faced, did I finally grab her wrist and spin her around.

“What’s the rush for?” I casually asked.

She darted her eyes around, suddenly seeming uncomfortable in the heavily wooded area.

“Uh-I,” she stuttered, refusing to look me in the eye, “just didn’t want to take up too much of your time,” she quickly mumbled before trying to get me to loosen my grip on her wrist.

“That’s not it at all,” I calmly replied, sensing her uneasiness. I switched my grip to her hand before continuing. “I would love for you to stay in my house.”

She worked up a smile and gently nodded before adamantly responding.

“Sorry, I do have to leave.”

I tightened my grip on my hand before smiling, my eyes still fixated on hers. 

“Miss-”

“Rose,” she corrected.

“Rose, I insist.”

She nodded once again before releasing the pull she had in the opposite direction. Perfect.

CHAPTER 3

The night sky sparkled amongst the stars as I quietly closed the door behind me. Stepping into the vastness of the hill my house was situated on, I felt truly at home with the sky as my roof. Another perfect night. I had not been more than a few meters down the stone path that led away from my front door when the door opened again, this time with Rose calling for me.

“Wait! Let me come with you,” she asked, looking me in the eye intently. “Please?”

I was about to agree until I saw the pink, satin, nightdress she was wearing. I quickly ran back to her, slightly alarming her, and pushing us both back into the house before slamming the door behind us.

“Where did you get that?” I demanded, the all-too-familiar dress evoking memories I had wished I erased a long time ago.

She stuttered, unable to comprehend the sudden shift in my mood, but I was adamant for answers.

“Where,” I paused, “did you get,” I looked her sternly in the eye, “the dress?”

“I just found it in one of the drawers,” she nervously answered me, refusing to look me in the eye no longer. “I thought it was perfect, and isn’t that what you like?” she continued to respond, with a slight edge in her voice.

“Whatever!” I yelled, storming off towards my room. “But that dress is NOT perfect. Far from it,” I continued as I slammed the door shut in her face.

What I didn’t tell her was how the memories of that dress signified the opposites of perfection, and all the pain the wearer had once caused me. I couldn’t let that happen again, could I?

I sank down on my bed next to the binoculars and just stared out the window. The few wanderers along the street were nothing noteworthy, and even as an observationist I felt bored and empty. It was not a perfect dress, it was not a perfect night, so was Rose really the perfect girl? 

I laid wide awake on my bed, listening to the chatter of the insects, and the songs of the birds. What would’ve been the perfect midnight stroll. 

Sunrise came and went without much movement. The soft, uneven, breathing that reminded me where I was throughout the night continued from the couch. I peeked out of my room and watched her. The more I looked into her resting eyes, the more disgusted I felt. She just wasn’t perfect. 

CHAPTER 4

The sky was no longer the sparkly blanket of stars sewn amongst the forgiving blue. It had turned a nasty gray; streaking through the clouds were not glowing comets but fiery lightning bolts. The sky had gone sour, and so had my mood. 

“Rose!” I called, opening the door to find her awake in the kitchen.

She had gotten rid of that horrid nightdress, but now sported a much-too-small corset and much-too-long skirt. Just as horrid.

She was cooking eggs in an old pan, whose handle was off-center, and the bottom completely rusted. The refrigerator door was ajar, letting cold air escape around the living area. The entire room was a mess. How imperfect. 

I grabbed my broom from the corner of the room and began sweeping, coats of dust and miscellaneous messes being brushed away. But, it still wasn’t perfect. The couch where Rose lay had the covers wrinkled, the cushions arranged in no particular pattern. The heaps of dirty clothes, containing the enticing sparkly dress and the despicable nightdress, were scattered across the living area floor. Instinctively, I threw the dirty clothes into the wastebasket in an attempt to erase the imperfection from my house. 

I watched as the once perfect ceramic plate she held seemed oddly gross now covered in grease and oil. The beautiful pattern of birds and trees, meticulously painted on the dishware was seemingly disintegrating before my eyes. My mind reeled as I stifled a gag. I sat down across from the imperfect couch and tried to look away. But anywhere I looked I found discrepancies in the smoothness of the paint on the ceiling, the dirt and grime on my daily cleaning tools, and Rose; I couldn’t even lock eyes with her. Definitely not perfect. 

I squeezed my eyes shut as the nightmares continued to drift in the blackness of my closed eyes, once a place of solace and peace. In my head, I pictured the storm clouds outside, now beginning to release raindrops which crept into my brain, filling it with sorrow and depression. I shuddered as I strained my eyes together until the feeling became unbearable. My breathing quickened, and my heart pounded. How could I live in a house so imperfect?

I opened my eyes at the feeling of a hand on my shoulder. Slowly regaining my bearings, Rose stood there, trying to speak but I couldn’t hear any of the words she had to say. Her eyes, which had once sparkled with such playfulness, now struck fear in me as looking into her eyes made me feel tree branches wrapping around me and constricting me. The glow she once had under the moonlight enveloped me, but made me feel trapped in a world so far from the heavens.

As she smiled, I could feel the monster inside of her lunging towards me, trying to claw at my consciousness, and the room began warping. The walls no longer provided comfort, but rather were closing in on me at an alarming rate. The couch which I sat upon, which seemed so perfect earlier, now felt as if it were swallowing me whole. Picking up a framed picture that sat on the side table by the couch, I threw it in the general direction of the threatening monster coming out of Rose, and the frame hit her square in the mouth, right on the monster’s head. She stumbled back, back onto the couch where she woke up this morning, and began screaming as the monster pushed out and towards me more and more. A monster of imperfection.

CHAPTER 5

I shuddered as I squeezed my eyes shut and began lunging for more and more frames around me, sometimes picking up the smooth stands and occasionally grabbing air. The screams didn’t stop, mixing in with the sound of shards hitting indescribable objects and breaking. I drowned myself out in the sounds of thunder, a forewarning of what was to come. I didn’t stop until I could no longer find any frames near me, and only then did I open my eyes. Rose was still laying against the couch, a stunned look plastered across her face. Her eyes remained open but ummoving, staring not at me but blankly into the distance. The monster was nowhere to be seen, but the lacerations where it had once been spewed blood, staining the couch and floor below. The house was becoming more and more imperfect as each drop landed silently around her.

Amidst the now pouring rain, I carried the limp Rose in my arms across the top of the hill to the beloved forest on the other side and laid her down between the bumps and grooves in the path, now beginning to turn into a clump of grassy mud. In no time her body was drenched, her face covered in drops of blood and rain. She looked so surreal, straight out of a movie scene, her hair arranged so neatly even in death. Somewhat perfect? But I couldn’t dwell on her any longer as I ran back inside to retrieve my shovel. Daylight was fading, both in the covering of clouds and the sunset beyond as I meticulously dug in the softest spots of mud, careful not to disturb the other bumps and grooves, before lowering Rose down. 

Even in the rain, even in lifelessness, she still had a slight sparkle on her, and a slight glow in her eyes. I shook my head before pressing her eyes closed, trying to rid myself of the acknowledgement of her existence. Barely looking, I threw the dirt and mud mixture over her, burying her and the imperfection along with it. 

CHAPTER 6

I hadn’t really given it much thought. It was more of a spontaneous decision, but I knew it was for the better. I had been perfecting the living room, ridding it of glass shards and blood stains, while occasionally taking breaks to observe through my binoculars. The sun was starting to set, casting a large shadow on the hill, but there still appeared to be no figures of interest. I grabbed the new frames and repositioned them exactly where they had been, directly in the middle of each side table, angled towards the coffee table, the center of attention. Perfect.

It hadn’t taken long for the house to become perfect again, now illuminated by the quickly rising moon. The ground sparkled with the delicately placed drops of rainwater, and as I stepped out, I could smell the freshness in the air. Another perfect night. 

Staring beyond the hill, I could see the people below mingling about, enjoying the perfect night alongside me. Simply a silhouette to them, I easily could watch them unnoticed, swallowed up by the comforting shadows of night.

Only in solidarity, in true peace, in true perfection, did I notice the girl walking along the cobblestones wearing a shiny red dress. She reflected the energy around her, almost as if she were an otherworldly enigma. From far away, she looked like a rose, perfectly poised and ready for the right caretaker. I couldn’t help but marvel at the sight and the future prospects that lay ahead.

“That dress looks stunning on you,” I whispered to myself.

Perfect.