Edited by Storm Constantine and published in Visionary Tongue,
a British small press publication launching new fantasy authors and poets,
Issue 7, Beltane 1997.

The Tender Trap

I do not know how old I was when the sleepwalking began. I remember, though, that my hands did not reach very high when I'd come suddenly awake and find myself holding the iron railings of the cemetery fence. As time passed, and the sleepwalking continued, my growth was marked more by that measure than any more normal record.

During my childhood years, that was as far as the nocturnal walk took me. I would leave my family’s cottage in a mystical trance, drawn by a powerful allure that carried my body in its spell, and drew me down the sloping garden path and out into the lane. The cemetery was half a mile from the cottage, yet my journeys went undiscovered by any neighbour, or passer- by. Often, when I awoke, I would find my thin arms entwined in the cold metal trellis of the railings. Confused and afraid, I would tear my hands down from the strange restraint and flee, back to what was familiar.

Only once did my Mother spy me from her window. She ran from the house to arrest my wandering, bundled me in her arms and returned me to my bed. My parents took this strange occurrence to be some childish fancy and instilled no new vigilance, they slept through my nocturnal journeys. Hence my body would regularly float out on the night’s aura to follow that unheard call. No physical or mental effort was demanded of me; the spell that had rooted itself inside me would effortlessly take control. It lifted my unconsciousness body, and bore me forth into its domain. Sometimes, in the morning, I would only be aware that I had again been called by the weariness in my bones and the dried mud on my feet; evidence that I soon learned to hide. I didn't know or question why this happened to me, for it had always happened. It was part of my life, part of my essential nature, part of me.

As I grew into young womanhood, so my night voyages altered. I became more conscious during the sleepwalking phase, and my awareness of sensation and travelling increased. I began to walk further, beyond the iron railings, and into the cemetery itself. I drifted spirit-like among the ancient graves, my torpid hands trailing across their rough, weather-hewn surfaces; my fingers connecting with the ancient moss that ornamented the place. Often I would repose for some time across a particular grave where, as I stared with unseeing eyes at the moonlit sky, the shadow of its obelisk would lie across me, like a spirit-lover. My body seemed almost to submerge itself into the stone of the grave and I felt at peace; I could breathe more easily in that place.

I felt no fear or concern when in these trances, only a listless detachment. But, when the awakening came, I lost that apathy and in its place experienced a heightened awareness of my vulnerability. Terrified, for several infinite moments I would be paralysed, unable to react to the chill in my mind and body. When the torpor finally released my body, I would spring up and run, as if I could escape that terror by outpacing it. But the fear was within me, and as I ran between the dark shadows and gaunt monuments, the cemetery would become a maze; for it was never familiar when I fled from it in fear.

As time passed I found myself journeying further, into a place beyond the cemetery. After I wove my way through the great family mausoleums, I would pass beneath a narrow archway of overgrown foliage and find myself in the undergrowth and rock of a narrow subterranean ravine. It was a dark rugged place, but unless I kept to one side of the narrowing passage, chinks of moonlight sometimes still fell upon me. It felt warm and inviting; a heavy damp smell seduced my senses, infusing me with the earthy scents of the fertile underworld.

Each night my journey was longer than before and consequently the awakening brought with it a more fearful journey in return. I had breached an unknown threshold into another world. It was a dark, mysterious place and it both enraptured and terrified me. Then, one night, around the time my body had reached full maturity, that world finally made itself known to me.

I passed through the dark entry behind the graves and beyond the place that marked the end of human life. I was neither asleep nor awake, yet I felt a deeply pleasurable detachment that encouraged me to enjoy the sensual stimulations provided along my path. I felt the caress of long-forgotten leaves on my feet; my body magnetised by the occasional catch of dried branch upon my nightdress or skin. I experienced these touches with a new awareness, and for the first time truly understood the cycle of nature. I trailed my hands across the damp walls; dense slime engulfed my fingers. I felt sacred, and languidly spread the rich juices of the place upon my face and eyelids, anointing myself with this lush, secret balm.

As I journeyed further along the labyrinthine corridors no moonlight lit my path, but an ethereal glow emanated from the walls, as if their rocky surfaces reflected my presence in the form of this strange luminescence. I needed no other light to guide me. My fingers crept along the rock to one side and light pin-pricks of sensation tickled at my nerve endings. I felt only pleasure as the stone and my flesh teased one another with their connection. Deep in the cavern my body encountered trailing moss, delicate strands of spider webs and other caressing tentacles. I met the touches readily, entranced by their delicate embraces.

After a while I drifted to a halt and my body inclined against the rocky surface, as if to rest. The torpor deepened and for a while my consciousness left me altogether. When my awareness altered again I felt a new presence and struggled against my lethargy to find out what it was.

In time I perceived a large leaf upon my hand. Its tactile fleshiness was moving over my numb skin, very slowly, arousing my flesh with its caress; a hard stem following the persuasive leaf. Its insidious path over my arm felt so good, so seductive. Although I could barely move, my consciousness wavering, I strained to see what was happening to me. The distinctive shape Scindapsus ivy leaves pressed against my nightdress; huge, exotic and moving with a quiet ferocity around my body. I had never seen anything like it and my breath was constricted in my lungs as the vine crept tighter around me, holding me as unconsciousness descended once more.

The awakening came as suddenly as ever, but this time with a greater chill of fear. Icy arrows of terror stabbed my mind, froze the breath in my lungs. The vine's strengthening grip possessed my body totally. Fear clenched my heart. If I tried to move, the leaves tightened their hold. There was no escape. I heard myself scream aloud; the sound turned my blood to stone. I struggled long and hard against my captor, but in vain -- it was far stronger than I. Exhausted, I hung in its grip and used the last of my strength to cry for help. My mind still ran with fear and chaos. Was I to die here in this place? Was that why I had always come here, because life’s passage is always towards its end?

My cries eventually wavered and quietened. I hung like a rag doll in the web of vines, wishing for the trance to take me again. I longed for its numbness, for it would bring a temporary escape from my trap. Then, I began to sense a strange tenderness in the embrace of the ivy. It seemed to offer me gentle succour, even while it held me in its terrible grip. Its leaves strained towards my face. I could see the gloss of my own tears shining in their veins. It was trying to comfort me; it seemed to understand my fear in some strange way. Why was it holding me here? What did it want from me?

Just as all hope was about to leave me, I saw a light materialise, a strange gleaming oval that came towards me from somewhere within the labyrinth. Slowly, my senses began to revive. As the luminous blur got closer I saw it resembled a face, the face of a man. He carried no light, but his gaunt and handsome face was shining, suspended in darkness. His eyes glowed and when he stood before me I was mesmerised by their fierce intensity. He said nothing, but his eyes searched my face, as if to learn about me. He reached out and unleashed one of my arms from the mighty grip of the ivy, in a swathe of gentle caresses that both freed me and entrapped me anew.

With immense effort I found the words to utter: “Have you come to save me?” He did not answer but continued to stroke away the vines. As his hands passed over me they enlivened my body with unfamiliar yet gentle sensations. I stood weakly before him feeling peculiarly supported, as if the vine was still around me. I could not draw my eyes from his strange face. His skin was delicate, almost transparent, and laced with spindly veins close to the surface. A strange unearthly glow that came from within gave his skin a hue and texture like that found on the translucent surface of a pale orchid. His dark hair scrolled over his shoulder, like a wild creeping vine. He was like no other man I had seen before.

His brow furrowed and I heard a deep resonant voice speak within my mind: “From what do you wish to be saved?” I had not seen his lips move. He continued to search my face with his eyes as I thought about his question. Time as I had known it was adjourning from us, I could sense its very suspension in the air. I could find no answer to his query.

He leaned forward and put his lips to mine. They were cool but sensuous in their touch. As I responded to the arousal he kindled within me the most beautiful sensations I had ever known spread throughout my body. His lips gently parted. I felt the hard tactile stem of his tongue and took into my mouth, allowing it to beguile my senses further. I readily exchanged for all normal sensation for the exquisite feelings he aroused in me. A sweet and sudden understanding came over me as he imbued my body with his spirit. It was the spirit of Subterranea, the vitality of the dark undergrowth that thrust through the earth and held it in its powerful embrace. Now, it claimed me, and crept into my body.

I felt a sharp pain within, then heaviness stole deep within my loins, an energy that stunned me, and then dispersed pools of sensation through my body. It was a feeling of intense pleasure. I craved more. There was no fear in me now, only the joy of discovery.

I drew back and saw that his body had taken mine. Huge roots thrust forth from the earthy ground and ploughed into my body through his. We were entwined in a frenzy of organic stems that coiled around us and climbed within. As I lifted my hand, I saw it was conjoined with his; we were woven together with it in the rich pattern of nature’s tapestry. I looked into his incandescent eyes and saw his true form reflected in their strange irises. I recognised it through some hidden aspect of my own nature, the aspect that was reaching forth for its realisation and fulfilment. I closed my eyes and released myself fully to him.

A primeval and strident force rose up and took me over. I strode with it; reaching for something, something innate. I felt the rush of sap within my veins. It was the sweetest nectar my body had ever known and I was carried high and long upon the wave of ecstasy it spread through me. Xylem and phloem bedded within me, my new form took root and began to evolve. I transmuted and transformed through our union and became as one with him.

The rich, fecund earth was my new home and I began to thrive in its tender, succulent bed. My mate guided me and we crept forth through the fertile earth of our empire, to enmesh it with loving tendrils. We made our seat finally upon that grave that had once felt so peaceful to me. When my new-born leaves unfurled upon the memorial stone, I did not mourn the loss of the fragmentary life I had lived before, but celebrated instead the eternal cycle of the life that had claimed me now as one of its own. Subterranea, that from which all living things come, and that which reaches out to take them back and reinvent them once again.