And words were etched onto the second spider but this time in winter blue. And then a third in shining yellow, a fourth in electrified lime, a fifth in glowering orange.
It continued until the whisker had been worn down to nothing Bonnie could any longer grasp to write with, and an army of the arachnids made their way up the wall to bask in the violet light.
At the finishing of it, Beaureguard entered the room and took a seat on a large leopard print chair. He closed his eyes for a moment to listen to the music. He smiled, the magenta glow around him warm. He opened his eyes again and looked at his twin for a long silent moment, before he saw the glowing spiders scattered on the wall above Bonnie’s head.
“It is done then?” he stated.
“It is.”
“It cannot be undone—“ he said knowing already that she knew this.
“And would you have wanted it to be?” she asked him, in referring to the one time he had used the spiders.
“Not ever,” he said quietly, positively.
“It works fast?” Bonnie asked Beau.
“Tremendously.”
“I should be off to bed then.”
“It won’t be long.” He stood. “I will see you safely in.”
Beau escorted Bonnaventure back to her room and let her in. One comforting embrace was shared and she turned away from the door so she could lock her snuggly in.
Bonnie remained there for a moment, the rain still cascading down off of the crystal panes. There was no fear for being trapped in there—she knew of all of the secret passages in there that would let her out, could Beau not be there to turn the key.
Now and suddenly, Bonnie was tired. She found her way to her bed, welcoming sleep both quiet and dreamless, before she could even cover herself up.
* * *
Bonnie’s once-upon-a-time lover stumbled drunkenly down the street. It continued to rain and showed no signs of stopping. Still, he felt nothing of it and he did not realize how far from his intended path home he had strayed. Time could not be conceived by him either, and though it was in fact very late, for all of his concern it could very well have been early evening. It did not matter in the least.
In a short while, this unfortunate soul found his way onto Beau’s doorstep. It seemed an intriguing enough place—a church not wanting for stained glass and still lit up inside. It warranted, to this purposeless fellow, an uninvited investigation.
He knocked and as he was unbeknownst to him expected, Beau opened the door before the stubby-fingered fist could rap a second time. At once, the few remaining guests were noticed.
“Is this your party?” was asked of Beau.
“It is.” Beau looked over the short, pathetic intruder and wondered how Bonnie had been able to refrain from absolutely abhorring him. He knew that other than her own pain, Bonnie held nothing of herself for this degenerate but complete indifference. In Beau’s book and he knew it was so for Bonnie as well—that was far worse.
“Coming in?” Beau said, stepping aside for his new guest to enter.
Without the help of his host or any hesitation, Beau saw the newcomer find himself a drink—no doubt more poison—and after a very short dithering at being in a new place, Beau watched him climb the stairs.
Bonnie was safe—doubtlessly slumbering now, Beau had no contrary thoughts on that, and though he knew no one—especially her nemesis—could get in to her, he took to the stranger’s wake, keeping to the shadows, to be sure.
As was expected, and as definitely intended the pinnacle room was found. It was taken in with brief pause from the doorway, but quickly the magenta and violet light became unbearably alluring and the intended went in. Beau watched as he wandered the room for a moment, not touching anything, intermissing to listen to the music, sitting on Beau’s favorite chair. He was oblivious to being watched.
An odd sort of sleepiness was settling in and the chair was all together nearly more comfortable than he could stand. Sleep would surely have ensued, had a flourescent glow from the nook not caught his eye. Seemingly in slow motion, the ill-mannered guest rose and stood by the wall, straining his blurry vision to see the pink radiance more clearly. It was more than he could stand to keep himself from touching it. The spider made itself known as such and slid just a fraction down its silky line. It was with a haphazard carelessness that the spider was scooped up in hand for closer inspection. Still, it did not protest, it did not bite. And with a lengthy scrutiny, the words written upon its hide became very clear:
You do not know me.
The words rang oddly in his mind, sounding only vaguely familiar, but somehow hooking into him, taking root deeply within. He shook the spider off of his hand and after only a moment of reflection on what he had just seen, a second spider dropped down into view. This one was just as brightly colored and more words were becoming clearer to him.
We have never met before.
The entire happening was growing stranger by the moment. It was dizzying him. He had to sit, and he chose to do so on the floor, his back to the wall. The spiders were beginning to drop all around him then with their tiny messages and he was reading them all, despite his wanting against it.
We have never known one another.
You have never seen me before.
You have never known the feel of my skin.
You have never known the taste of my kiss.
We were never together.
I have never seen you before.
He was quickly becoming anxious over what he was seeing. The beautiful face that he had first imagined to go alone with these words, the gentle voice that had spoken them—they were becoming indistinct, the name of the woman they matched with was now muddled with many other names of women he did not know, had never known, was beyond knowing. He wanted to take another look at the spiders to see if what he’d read was indeed there, but he could not catch them as they scurried away. And he was too inebriated. Nothing was making sense, nothing was right, and yet—and yet.
It was a very abrupt rush of calm that hit him then. All angst left him suddenly and a pleasant peace filled and surrounded him. He set his glass down on the floor beside him. He was far too intoxicated and needed sleep. From where he sat, he could not see anyone and certainly he could not hear anyone near by. He took it upon himself to lay down there where he was sitting and in seconds, he had passed out.
* * *
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