To Be, To Love, To Metempsychosis, To Possess - A Short Story
*~*Based on an assignment I did in an American Literature course Spring 2012, as well, influenced by Edgar Allen Poe's short story "Ligeia."*~*
Indeed, my love, the will is strong. Through it, we have choices, choices that correspond with our divine nature or encompass our fleshly nature. Still, the will gives us dimensions and infinite capacities to beset all facets of life. Oh yes, my love, duality is indicative to the will. Nothing is absolute, not even the will of our nature, but indeed nature is hard to surpass when faced with a continuance.
Though your memory of the origins of our intrigue is but a gray fog, slipped through the mind like water through fissures, I recall it unmistakably. For on the eastern bank of the Rhine from the Lorelei I first saw you. Of my transcendental ordinance, I was compelled to you. For which you cannot remember, it was the ethereal notes of my voice and phantasmal features and behavior that stealthily clouded your perceptions of the metaphysical.
Such minor details of my past evaded your discernments of me, and all that remained was that of importance, the fixation to my physical attributes, the amazement to my learned mind. And most fixated in your thoughts, the hidden truths behind my eyes. I guided you through the chaos of the supramundane as it intrigued you. I captivated you to need me, my knowledge of the unknown, and in this, you resigned yourself to me.
Oh, my love if not only for your deserving to know the truth do I consider to tell you these cursed memories! For my bewitchment of you developed through the naturally ordained will imposed on me; therefore, I sought to feed on your essence, to live through thy life.
Nevertheless my dear, in my contemptible defense I fell as a captive to your zealous love.
Together we grew in love and in learning, passionately and hungrily for both. Throughout my mounting adoration for you, I buried thoughts of the unavoidable. Our love was doomed from the start. As time progressed, in my passion-induced haze I did not feel my strength waning, or did I submerge it into the subconscious? I let my love for you, for your life, trump the will of my primal nature. Possibly in ignorance, I believed love had a greater supremacy than the divine mystic.
When on my death bed I fought with the numerous years of strength and lives I had procured, I remembered the antiquated result of the plight where Odysseus resisted. I died, sensations consuming as though drowned.
It saddens me immensely to know how your life turned after, captivated by the euphoria of opium and overshadowed by the acquisition of your dark gothic abbey.
Even more pain on my partial soul, partially due to my inhuman blight, was your poor attempt at remarriage with the Fair Lady Rowena. Another chance to reclaim happiness presented itself to you, but premonitions of me haunted you, shutting out the glimmer you may have had at another lover. Was it because of opium-induced hallucinations, the seductive hold my being has upon men or the strength of our love’s endurance? I saw everything from my new position in the cosmos, how the Fair Lady Rowena slowly died a little inside every day.
The medieval darkness that encased her from the interior of the abbey, depleting her of light and nature; your cold lack of attempts to seek her heart neglecting her of personal affection; all weighing on her as she crushed beneath the weight of insanity and diminishing life. In her weakness my love, your memories of our romance grew strong; with this also I grew too.
Yes, my love the will is strong; “And the will therein, which dieth not. Who knoweth the mysteries of the will, with its vigor?” Joseph Glanvill knows this is so . . . But, it is the will of the divine that the will’s temperament yields to. As all humanity faces death, each persons' will resists, but in the end, each must succumb to the celestial; because my love, the will has duality. In the fair Rowena’s death, my memory, vivid and sturdy in your mind, allowed me to receive another chance at my nature’s agenda. Unfortunately my love, in creation I was doomed to assist in the destruction of men. While my will in overcoming divine law was strong, my nature’s will was greater as it was intended by the heavenly.
Now, my love, you may think as you see my manifestation in Rowena gliding towards you that your undulating passion for me and my memory overcame nature’s will for death. However my love, forlornly it was the weakness of your will to my delusive ordained presence that seduced your will to the weakened state that now allows me to accomplish my predestined construct.
This time my love, as I look at you again transfixed by my wild eyes, I know without a shadow of a doubt, my celestial nature will succeed.
Yours Truly, LeNae
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Poe, Edgar Allen. “Ligeia.” The Bedford Anthology of American Literature. Eds. Susan Belasco and Linck Johnson. Boston: Bedford/St. Martins, 2008. 1018-1030. Print.