Work Text:
And death shall have no dominion
And death shall have no dominion.
Dead man naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean
bones gone,
They shall have stars at their elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise
again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.
By Dylan Thomas, 1. verse
The poem book hit the wall with a loud bang. Annoyed, Alyssha sank back into her bed full of cushions and buried her face into one of them. For an outsider it must have looked like a human sized doll had been thrown onto the luxurious bed, Alyssah's features and her clothing supported this idea: Her slender, fragile body, her white creamy skin, her big blue eyes and her long blonde hair. But beneath this modest appearance slumbered a fiery temper, that (at the moment) was shortly before an outburst. Learning poems was just so boring and monotonous, although this particular one wasn't so bad. In fact it made her think of Undertaker, the mysterious mortician, that had peaked her interest in recent times.
Alyssha had had worse the last few days than this poem, at least trying to fulfill the demands of her parents. But the more she fought the longing for adventure in her heart, the stronger it became. Now she had reached her limit and overwhelmed by desire, she got up.
She had often sneaked out of her parents house, freeing herself of the shackles of the upper class and wholeheartedly engaging in the fun side of life. She wasn't afraid of the dark side of London, of the rumors about the Ripper going round; in fact the thrill of willingly putting herself into danger excited her most.
Disguising herself with a dark coat, that she wore over her expensive white gown, Alyssha slipped past the servants and escaped through the kitchen door.
London greeted her with the strong smell of horses and their excrement, with the noises of a city brimming with life – and with the typical, seemingly never stopping rain. She breathed in the atmosphere and without thinking, her feet carried her right to the entrance of Undertaker's home.
When Alyssha entered, she was surprised to be greeted by black candles, that illuminated the winding hallway, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Slowly going past the skeletons lining the path, it seemed as if these dead inhabitants were very well alive and dancing in the play of light and shade. She came around the corner, into the main chamber and was overwhelmed by the picture, that presented itself to her.
Circles of lit candles painted entwined patterns on the floor, giving the room a reverent atmosphere and the soft, harmonious tones of a violin, woven around the lead melody of a piano, filled the air. Alyssha couldn't see, where the music was coming from, her eyes were helplessly drawn somewhere else. In the middle of the pattern, engulfed in flames, stood Undertaker, gently holding one of his female zombies in his arms, stroking her bloody hair. She was wearing a long, white dress, blood was dripping out of her mouth and her dead, white eyes blindly stared to the ceiling.
The flames around the pair hissed, whenever a drop of blood hit them and their color briefly changed from red to black.
“She can not appreciate, how lucky she is! She is nothing more than a soulless corpse, one of his strange experiments. She has no character, no personality. And Undertaker is choosing her over me: not only touching and noticing her, even wanting to dance with her! Didn't I try hard enough the last few times we drank tea together? I do not approve of this, I should be the one in his arms!”
The angry thoughts rushed through Alyssha's mind, she couldn't help but feel jealous of this dead girl. It was foolish, yes, but it was an accurate reflection of her heart. She had been craving his affection for weeks now, trying to win it by making him laugh, by teasing him. But up until now, all she had gotten was a weak smile. She was about to step into, what seemed like a sacred ritual, when he started moving.
The music accelerated, growing into a real waltz and he swept over the burning candles, his dark coat flying behind him, holding the lifeless body safely in his arms. A few strains of his silver hair hung loosely out from under his cylinder and the long black sleeves of his clothing swirled through the air. There suddenly was elegance and strength visible in every one of his steps, he moved like a predator, a warrior – completely different from the usual quirky way he behaved around Alyssha. Soon he accelerated further and further, becoming a blurred black and silver shadow, dancing over the patterns and spilling blood over all of them.
Alyssha still stood in the entrance, half hidden behind the door, when Undertaker stopped in the middle of the room again. She was used to strange things happening around him, she had learned by now, that he was far from ordinary. In fact, that was one of the things, that made him this interesting. But now he had fully changed into a being unknown to her: his hat was gone and his long, silver hair poured down over his coat, almost moving on its own. His eyes glowed in a dazzling shade of green and when he put his head right back, a long scar gleamed in his beautiful face. She could see him taking in a deep breath, before speaking with a husky voice.
“Ah, you certainly were beautiful in life and oh yes, death has elevated you to new heights. But no matter how hard I try, you can't satisfy my desires... Maybe I should finally lay you to rest, building a worthy bed for you and sending you off to your loved ones...”
He leaned forward and buried his nose in the neck of the zombie, inhaling deeply. When he moved away again, hatred and anger distorted his features.
“But that will leave me alone again, with nobody to make me laugh or to drink tea with! Why won't you love me?! I'M TIRED OF BEING ALONE!”
The flames of the candles exploded around him blazing up into a green inferno, swirling around him and briefly hiding him from her view. Alyssha felt the sudden heat hitting her face and ducked down deeper. She had never seen him this emotional before, usually he was quiet and reserved. But maybe he was like her in that regard: they both bottled up everything inside of them, until they couldn't bare it anymore and exploded.
When Undertaker became visible again, he gently, almost lovingly held a huge, black scythe in his left hand and kissed the entwined skeleton, that formed the handle. With his right hand, stretched out far away from him, he throttled the zombie, letting her feet dangle above the candles. In a fluent, sweeping motion, Undertaker spun around, the tip of the scythe kissed the heart of the dead body and the girl burst into green flames. All that was left, was her bloody white dress, slowly floating down onto the ground.
Alyssha covered her mouth with her hand and tried to cushion the sound of the scream, she had let out in shock. But her effort seemed to be in vain: Undertaker slowly turned around, his glare pierced through the shadows and their eyes met, captivating her with this one look. With his now empty right hand, he combed back his long hair and let out a crazy laugh. Blood was dripping from the scythe.
“It seems I was very rude. Apologies, Miss Alyssha, for not welcoming you as my guest as courtesy dictates. You may have noticed, that I'm not my usual self today and this has left us in this peculiar situation.”
He skipped over the candles and his hat, swiftly moving towards her.
“You have seen something you shouldn't have and that leaves my heart filled with honest sorrow: I quite enjoyed your company and your jokes, hoping I might enjoy it some more in the future. But I'm afraid, I can't let you roam free anymore. You have now seen my true nature and although you don't understand it, others might deduce it out of what you know.”
Alyssha was paralyzed: It was clear, that she should be running away right now, trying to get help on the filled streets of London - his words were a clear threat, she had seen something forbidden and now, he would kill her. Yet, she sat still, watching this god of death approach her, taking in his beauty. She couldn't run away from this predator, what was she more than helpless prey? So Alyssha decided to do the exact opposite: she ran towards danger.
Clearly surprised by her assault, Undertaker took a step back, before embracing her and laughing out loud. He gently held her in his arms, spinning her around in circles. One of his hands still held the scythe, Alyssha could feel the cold of the blade on her back, but the other one now started to stroke her hair. When she looked up into his eyes, she saw, that he had spoken the truth. Sorrow and bitterness danced in his eyes, now amplified by affection.
“If I can't run from danger, I'll approach it. All I wanted, was to see you – to escape my boring, ordinary life once more. Yet, I have disturbed you and I want to apologies for that. I'll accept the consequences of my wrongdoing. In fact, this here makes me happier than everything else you could have done. I've longed for being in your arms since the first time we've met. Do whatever you want with me, because I can now die happily.”
Alyssha whispered her thoughts into his ear. He had been honest with her, so why should she lie to him? She was past the point of no return, completely under his mercy now.
The room blurred around them as he started moving quicker again. He turned the embrace into a waltz, fulfilling her wish from earlier: Now she was in the place of the zombie, although differently than she had expected. Alyssha let everything go, she just focused on this one, glorious moment.
“I'm touched by your faith in me, Miss Alyssha. I promise, I won't forget you – you'll stay my companion for centuries. You'll sleep buried on white roses, as your pure soul deserves, and whenever I feel lonely, I'll come and lie next to you.”
They danced faster and faster, the outside world had become completely meaningless to both of them. Alyssha's mind went blank, bursting with joy and love, as he leaned forward and passionately kissed her. The moment his lips touched hers, his scythe went into her body and pierced her heart.
The last thing Alyssha heard, was him whispering: “Please forgive me, my Alyssha...”