From: rauser@fraser.sfu.ca (Richard John Rauser)
Subject: Isabella Again  (REPOST)
Organization: Simon Fraser University, Burnaby, B.C., Canada
Date: Sun, 5 Apr 1992 19:26:03 GMT

From rauser@sfu.ca Thu Mar 19 16:49:16 1992
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Date: Thu, 19 Mar 92 16:49:15 -0800
From: rauser@sfu.ca (Richard John Rauser)
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To: rauser@sfu.ca
Subject: Isabella Again
Status: RO


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>From: rauser@fraser.sfu.ca (Richard John Rauser)
>Subject: Isabella Again   (story)
>Message-ID: <rauser.700906784@sfu.ca>
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>Organization: Simon Fraser University, Burnaby, B.C., Canada
>Date: Wed, 18 Mar 1992 08:19:44 GMT


if you like it, read it, if not, don't.
                      -RJR






                       Isabella Again




by Rick J. Rauser
(c) 1992 by WNI





"In thoughts from the visions of the night,
 When deep sleep falleth on men,
 Fear came upon me, and trembling,
 Which made all my bones to shake."
                         -Job






    I've always hated the subway. It's noisy, it's crowded, it's hot and
stuffy, and yes, it stinks. Cramming that many people into such a tight 
space produces an amazing number of odors, none of them pleasant.
    I had been feeling sick all day and wanted nothing more than to get
back to my apartment and take a long, hot shower. It was hard not to pass
out in that crowded train and I hung onto the bar and forced myself to remain
steady.
    Then I saw Isabella again. Her beautiful face appeared briefly before 
someone in front of her shifted position slightly and cut her off from my
view. She had been looking right at me. Her long, curly auburn hair, her
exotic green eyes. Amazing.
    I snapped from my daze. What was I thinking? She had come back, come
back again for some reason...was it me? It had been only three weeks since
she had left my bedroom. What did she want now?
    Even if I had wanted to, I couldn't move towards her as the subway
was so packed I could barely turn around. But I felt her looking at me
through the crowd, felt her smiling at me, felt her wanting me. I wanted
her too and felt it painfully in my pants. I started feeling dizzy. I 
wanted to throw up.
    My stop came and a bunch of people got off. I couldn't move. I just
stood there holding the bar and looking down at the floor, feeling, for
some reason, terribly ashamed. 
    More stops came and more people got off until the car was finally empty.
Except for two.
    I turned and looked at her, shivering and sweating. She was wearing the
most gorgeous tight-fitting jeans and black boots with a long, glossy black
raincoat. She was absolutely stunning. She took my breath away.
    "I've missed you," she said.
    "I bet...you have," I said, breathless, the words falling out. I 
was gasping for breath. I shakily sat down. The subway kept rattling
through the darkness.
    She took a few steps towards me in those expensive, classy boots. "I'm
not going to hurt you," she said.
    "I know," I said.
    The car slowed to a stop. The doors opened. Some guy got on and sat
down at the far end, pulling out a newspaper.
    Isabella sat beside me. Her very presence was overpowering. I found
myself wondering what it would be like to sleep with her. I shivered. I
doubted I could take it.
    "You're wondering about sex," she said quietly. "It would be wonderful
for both of us."
    I ran my trembling hands over my eyes then my forehead, wiping away the
sweat, feeling horribly ill. My stomach was doing cartwheels.
    She gently put one of her beautiful hands on my shoulder in a reassuring
way. "Let me show you something," she whispered. She stood up and walked
over to the guy with the newspaper.
    I turned and watched, feeling as if I were in a dream.
    The guy was probably in his late twenties and looked rather scruffy.
His hair was dyed jet black and he wore a torn leather jacket and about
ten earrings. If anyone looked like a drug dealer, it was that guy.
    Isabella walked up to him and grabbed his newspaper, crumpled it, and
then tossed it to the floor. Her back was to me but I knew she was smiling.
I felt it.
    He glared at her. "What you doin'?" he said with annoyance. He stood up
to retrieve his paper.
    Isabella pushed him down. It was an easy, fluid motion, as if she were
gently forcing a child to sit. She just placed her hand on his chest and 
gave an easy shove which sent him down in his seat with a painful jerk.
    "You..." he muttered, staring at her in amazement. He tried to tackle
her. She threw him through the window. Just like that. The cold, howling
wind rushed in and engulfed me and I fell to the floor, trembling. I felt 
my stomach turn over again and I dry heaved a couple of times then threw
up by one of the doors. I saw Isabella walking towards me, her gorgeous,
wild hair blowing in the wind. The guy was completely still, his body form
the waist up hanging out of the shattered window, blood covering his jeans
and the shards of glass that lay everywhere.
     "Stay away from me," I begged her.
     "Why? I won't hurt you. I love you," she whispered. She crouched down
beside me and gently brushed aside a few strands of my hair.  
     "Why are you...you....doing th..this?" I managed.
     "Doing what?" she asked with sweet innocence.
     I pointed to the body hanging from the window of the speeding car. "That."
     She smiled. "Why not?"
     I considered. "It's....it's wrong, I can't...let you do that."
     She laughed pleasantly. "Before long, you'll be doing that too. I love you.But for now, I have to go." She walked up to the shattered window through which
the cold wind was howling steadily, and jumped out. I screamed in protest but
she was gone. I was alone in the subway car with the corpse hanging from the
window.
     The car slowed to a stop and the doors slid open. I forced myself to stand
up and got out of there, fighting back the urge to throw up again.

     I fell on my bed, not even bothering to remove my shoes. It was dark all
around me but I didn't care; in fact, I preferred it that way. I couldn't see 
my pallid, trembling face in the mirror and that felt better.
     What I couldn't get over was how much I wanted Isabella. Somewhere, deep
down inside, a part of me had liked what she did on the subway. A part of me
had wished I could do it too. I imagined again flying through the night with
her and flying down to tear apart anyone I chose. If someone even gave me
a dirty look, I could kill them. It would feel good, wouldn't it?
I forced that thought aside. It was brutal, horrid, evil. It would NOT
feel good. It would be...like...
    I drifted off into sleep, my body hot with sweat, my stomach still
violently ill.
    I saw an endless green field littered with bones as far as I could see.
Through the bones walked a long line of people. There were men, women, and
children, but mostly children. Some of them were dragging chains, some had
nooses hanging around their necks, some were lugging heavy pieces of scrap
metal. But all of them were despondent. Their eyes had a hollow, vacant look
and most of them had tears running down their dirty faces. 
    I suddenly noticed what they were walking towards; it was a towering
concerete monument which seemed to reach straight up into the clouds. It was
completely splattered with dried blood all around the base, and large patches
of blood adorned it further up at random intervals until the monument towered
from sight. There was a strange gold plate affixed to the bottom of the monument
and I remember that whatever was written there upset me but I can't remember
what it said.
    My body was shivering as I woke and I realized I had kicked off the covers
and stripped myself naked. The window was open and a cold breeze was blowing
over my body. I pulled the covers from the floor and bundled myself up like a 
cocoon but I was too tired to get up and close the window.
    I was in a large courtroom and Isabella was sitting in the jury box. I was
 the one on trial but I didn't know exactly what for. A man in black robes
came walking over to me and put his hand on my shoulder and when I looked over
at Isabella for encouragement I saw only a huge, black wolf with glowing red 
eyes. The wolf was grinning at me.
    Then the courtroom faded and I was on a beach. I saw three women in rags
crouching by the sand and I remember saying to myself that they looked like the
weird sisters from Macbeth. Someone tapped me on the shoulder but when I spun
around there was no one there.
    I jerked awake again. It was freezing in the room. My heart was pounding.
"Nightmares, nothing but nightmares," I said quietly. I had that raw, lingering
fear that follows a bad dream. I kept thinking Isabella would appear before me
at any moment. But there was no one in the room but me. I lay my head back down
on the pillow and pulled the blankets around me even tighter, burrowing my head
into their warm folds. I was idly wondering if I'd smother when I fell back
asleep.
    A little girl was sitting on the subway and reading a comic book about
the adventures of some cartoon character or other. I was sitting across from
her. I was horrified that she would look at me but I wasn't sure why I was
horrified. She finally lifted her head from the book and where her eyes should
have been were two bloody sockets with tissue and torn eyeballs hanging out.
    I wanted to scream but I was quiet because the subway was really a library,
and the little girl was reading the book on loan.
    Sunlight was flooding into the room as I kicked off the covers and got
to my feet. I was feeling better although a nagging fear kept tugging at my
mind. I wandered into the bathroom and had a long, hot shower. 
    I was sitting on the couch and drying myself off when the news announcer
said, "Last night police found four corpses in Central Park. Each one had the
blood drained from..."
    I threw the remote at the TV and pounded my fist on the couch. "DAMN HER!
DAMN HER! DAMN HER!" 
    Then I knew what I had to do. Isabella would have to die.

    It took me three months to find her. It was evening and a cool breeze was
blowing in from the ocean, mingling a sweet scent of sea water with the smell
of a coming storm. I walked out to the pier where she was standing, gazing out
at sea, her beautiful red cloak wrapped around her.
    "You're hard to find," I said, staring hard at her and walking up to stand
beside her. "Tracked you up to Canada and missed you by a week. Then it was downto France. Nothing subtle with the drained bodies in Paris. I suppose I should
have known you'd come back to the island, but I didn't want to take any chances
of losing you."
    She didn't look at me but keep studying the dark waters. "I knew you'd find
me."
    "It's over. I don't need you anymore. I don't WANT you anymore," I said.
    She laughed. "Is that right?" And I knew that she believed me. She knew
I spoke the truth.
    "You know it's true," I said, walking a bit away from her then turning
to face her.
    "Then take off," she said simply, smiling easily. "If you don't want me,
then leave before I decide to kill you."
    "I'm not leaving," I said. "You've hurt too many people. You've got to go
down." 
    "And I suppose you're the one to do it?" she asked. "I know you. You don't
have the guts." She turned back to the ocean.
    I shrugged. "Maybe you're right." Then I walked past her and pulled out
a sharpened wooden stake. I rammed it into her back, right through the heart.
    I had been conditioned by vampire movies to expect a horrible, gruesome,
dramatic death sequence, but there was nothing like that. She gasped and inhaledsharply and fell to her knees, trying in vain to pull out the stake. But it was
lodged firmly and she couldn't get a grip on it. Then she fell to her side and
her body went limp. Before my eyes it began to dissolve until only a pile of
clothes remained with my stake sticking through the coat.
    I pulled the stake out and tossed it out to sea. 
    "It's finished," I said quietly.
    Then I stepped off the pier to join Isabella.