Inspired by Joseph Perez’s video for Aperfectcircle’s song “Blue” on the aMOTION album.
If you lost your one true love, what would you do? Would you do something magical or unnatural to bring them back to you? Even if it’s to give farewell, apologize, or hear them say “I Love You Too.” This is an unordinary story of love, it starts after Angelica Darling has been sent above. Benson Darling, a man living in blue, stands at her grave with many emotions and thoughts, but words so few.
Angelica Darling
Sept. 27, 1972 - Feb. 7, 2008
Beloved Wife For Eternity
He falls to his knees, pressing the rose, as he sobs harder.
“I still can’t get over you. I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. If I would’ve…Good thoughts, that’s what I’m supposed to think about, right?”
The mind and eyes cry for her as it all rushes through. The rose brings him back to you.
“Remember when I asked you to share our lives together? Blue Roses, that’s what you are to me. Blue Roses.”
Taken back to the greatest moment in life. A time when the darling angel agreed to be his wife. Can never forget, and things couldn’t have been better. There are two roses, two people, and two sides to all of them together.
Benson and Angelica Darling sit at a round glass table, placed by an open double bay window that leads to a dark stone balcony. In the middle of the table lies a glass vase with two blue roses and lit candles on either side. Her bracelet gleams while she smiles at him and fiddles with the wine glass. He stares with a smile at the twinkling glass, up her smooth malty skin, her dark hair, dark eyelashes, and into her deep aquatic eyes. He picks up the rose closest to him, twirling and smelling it,
“Have you ever seen many blue roses?”
“No, not really.”
“You know why that is?”
She shakes her head slightly.
“There are no blue roses, naturally. You have to make them blue. Each rose has its own meaning with the color. The Rose itself is delicate, elegant, and graceful. Red can mean romance and passion; White is purity, secrecy, and worthiness; Lavender is the closest to blue and most used as so. It is majestic and special, or means love at first sight. Black and Blue are the only unnatural roses. Black is actually a dark red, and is used in death and mourning, but also can be rebirth, or start of something new. The color Blue represents dreams, hopes of miracles, opportunities, and new possibilities. Blue roses are like the Holy Grail; mystery, enchantment, achieving the impossible or unobtainable. Some people see it as a bad thing, like a figment of the imagination. I believe in the greater. They’re magnificent, just like you.”
“How do you know so much about roses?”
“I wanted to give you something that could somewhat capture how I feel about you, and blue roses came up; along with unique and beautiful meanings, and pedals of stories.”
“But, if there are no blue roses, then what are these? Lavender?”
“No, these are prematurely cut white roses cultivated in dye. Of course, the unusual tint of the moon helps. We’ll have true blue roses one day. Until then, I’ll have to work and put patience into having these, just as I did to find you.”
“Oh Benson…”
She puts her hand on his.
“Does that make you my black rose? Both of us are unique and unnatural, and you’re my symbol for the start of something new.”
“I like to think we’re both blue, but that’s one way to look at it. As long as I’m the birth of us, not the death.”
“Oh no, roses like us live forever. We’d make the unnatural seem natural.
He smiles, “Would you like to step out on the balcony and enjoy the night?”
“Sure.”
They stand and walk, arms linked, onto the balcony, rose still in his hand. They stop in the center and gaze up at the full shining moon and the scintillating stars; her glittered, silky black dress curls across the stone. His hand holds her hands gently while gazing into her eyes.
“You are enchanting and beautiful, just as this rose is. I feel as if I have achieved the unobtainable when I have you. You’ve made my dreams come true. I live in a Fantasy when I’m with you. What I’m trying to say is…”
He gets on one knee, holding her left hand in his right, the rose in his left; looks at her and brings up the flower.
“You look beautiful and smell beautiful.”
He takes his hand from her, pulls a sparkling ring from the heart of the rose, and places it on the hand from which it left.
“You are my angelic blue rose, and I’d love to pick you, and make you mine forever. Angelica, my angel, will you marry me, and be my Darling wife?”
Her eyes glisten, and her hand tries to cover her face, “Oh Benson, Darling, it would mean the world to me.”
They smile, laugh and kiss; then he holds her small body in his big arms. They make the perfect fit in the puzzle under the spotlight of the moon.
“I’ve never been so happy.” She says as she rubs his back and cries from joy.
Holding her tightly and struggling not to cry with her, he says, “I honestly don’t know who I would be without you. I never thought I could love this much, or someone could love me this much.”
She whispers softly in his ear, “I love you, I love, I love you.”
He tries to keep the whispering memories away. Tries so hard and yet they stay. He gets mixed between memories and reality, which makes an interesting duality.
Eyes flowing, face turning red, and his world crashes around him,
“Please stop this. I can’t take the pain. I need you so much. You’ve always been the one to know how to comfort me.”
He wipes a tear with one hand, and the other tear glides off his chin, and onto the bud, like a teardrop on a fire. He's reminded of a troubled time whilst she was there.
Benson paces at the kitchen counter on his cell phone. He suddenly stops, braces himself on the counter, begins to tremble, and holds his head. Angelica sits on a stool at the bar across from him, rubbing vanilla butter cream lotion on her legs, and gives him a concerned look.
“Thank you…Yes…I’ll try…Bye.”
He closes the phone and sets it on the bar slowly, and looks up at her with glossy eyes, “My mother just died. Aneurism while gardening. The funeral’s this weekend.”
Her eyes begin to well up, and she reaches across the bar to hold him, but he guides her away.
“Please don’t touch me.”
“Why? I’m here for you.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” He crosses back to the counter with his arms folded.
“No. You’re fighting it. Stop.”
“I’m not fighting anything. I haven’t seen my mother for a while. I have other things to worry about.”
“What the hell is your problem? You talk to her all the time. This is a huge deal.”
She goes to him, “You don’t have to fight your feelings.”
“I’ve always had to. I’m the strong person, I do the consoling. I was my mothers shoulder. I could never cry.”
“Well now she’s gone. How does that make you feel? Who do have to be strong for now?”
“You.”
“Me? Your mother died. If my mom were to die now, I wouldn’t stop crying, and I would want you to hold me constantly. I don’t expect you to be any different.”
He hugs himself tightly, scrunching his face hard, and a tear runs from an eye; she takes her finger and catches the tear on the tip, then places her teary finger in the corner of her eye.
“I’m crying with you.”
She fights for contact. He glances at her with sinking eyes, and she rubs his shoulder. He slides into her arms and releases all emotion.
“It makes things so much easier.”
She says as she pulls his arms around to hold her. He hugs tightly while soaking her shoulder, and breathing in the sweet comforting smell of her lotion. She begins to softly rock him.
“It’s just…I keep thinking of when my father left us. He beat my mother and walked out of the house like it was nothing. I was cowering on the front porch when he left. He stopped for a second, as if he wanted to say something to me, but he didn’t even look. He just left. I was three. Three years old is when I had to become a man for my mother. She didn’t have anyone. We didn’t have anyone. She could never take care of me; I was always taking care of her. I couldn’t deal with it anymore. I needed to live my life, so, I put her in a home and went about my way. It was the hardest thing I could ever do. Now, she’s dead and I feel like my father. I don’t want to be strong anymore. I’ve been that way for so long. I’m so much happier to have you here with me. You’re what I’ve always wanted, what I’ve always needed. Thank you for being here, for being with me.”
She holds his face and looks deeply into his eyes,
“I’ll always be here. You’ll never be left alone.”
Lightning crashes in the distance and the thunder rolls. He is on both knees, holding himself, and rocking. Tears fall from his closed eyes; they open and he looks to see a shadow creeping over the sunlight, the world stands still, and warmth turns to a chill; darkness overcomes light tonight.
He stands and looks to her headstone, “I have to go. I will be back. I love you for eternity.”
He takes one last smell of the rose, kisses it, and tosses it to her; places his hands in his coat, and treads away soft and lightly. The cold rain begins to fall on his warm body before he can make it to the car. He tries to tuck his head in the collar of the coat, and rush to the car; splashing through puddles in his shiny black shoes, and squishing through the green wet grass.
His hand gets to the car handle, ready to open, but then he stops, looks up, and closes his eyes.
Her beauty flashes in his head, but it’s still her picture dead: dark wet hair framing her face, and lips like the river; tries to caress the saturated face, kiss those soft moist lips, but he can’t deliver. This is not what he wants to remember. He opens his eyes and cries, “Why…?!” But an icy blue drop falls on his warm red lips, restraining him to continue; eyes blinking and wondering, but knowing it was her heavenly kiss sent to comfort his thoughts and feelings. He closes his mouth, slightly smiles, nods understandingly, and continues into the car. He starts the car, and drives off; leaving behind only the wheel imprints as he speeds away.
Now, his mind really goes in plight. All he can think about is that fatal final night
Benson drives his luxury car down the damp road, with his beautiful Angelica in the passenger seat. She’s wearing a sparkling blue dress that compliments her voluptuous body to the extreme, and glimmering jewelry that enhances her eyes.
“So, enjoying your birthday?” She says with a gorgeous bright smile.
“Of course, I’ll always be fantanastic, as long as I have you.”
“Fantanastic, huh?”
“Yes, fantanastic…Oh, fantastic…I love you…Have I told you that you were the first woman I ever had a real relationship with?”
“No, I never knew that. Thirteen years we’ve been married, and you’ve never mentioned that. Why? You’re so secretive. Should I be worried?”
The rain starts to get harder.
“No, and I’m not secretive, I’m mysterious. There’s a difference. I guess I never wanted to scare you off.”
“Scare me off? How?”
“Well, some women never wanted anything to do with me, simply because I’d never been in a relationship. I guess they felt I might get too attached, or not know how to run a relationship properly.”
“Why, relationships aren’t sex. Take someone’s virginity and they may get attached, but… well, I guess I could see that as a concern. Get so used to that person, and just can’t get away from them for anything. Doesn’t matter, they were wrong. You’re amazing and you’d be fine without me.”
“Sure, but that’s the thing, I don’t want to be without you. I could be fine, but I wouldn’t necessarily be fine. I honestly don’t know what I would do.”
“Well, I would hope you would get over it and live your life. I know I would.”
“I just love you so much. I feel ungodly amounts of love for you right now, and I just want you to know that our love is eternal.”
“I love you too, and from now on, don’t drink so much vodka. You get too emotional. Now, drive faster so we can see just how much love we have for each other.”
He lifts an eyebrow, smiles, and begins to press on the gas. She bites her bottom lip smiling and begins to stroke his thigh. He grips the wheel tighter and presses the pedal harder. She makes slight moaning and grunting sounds while squeezing.
Rain falls harder and faster the quicker he goes. Water runs under the tires and splashes off the sides, and the engine hums. Red lights stay on and yellow lights blink in front of them.
“Car!”
“Shit!”
He spins the wheel hard to the left to avoid the stalled car and the river next to it. The tires squeal, car slides, and slams the passenger side into the back of the car. The windows shatter, his angel screams, and the car flips over the other; crashes to the ground, and rolls into the freezing river.
Darkness. Silence. Weightless feeling. Hard thrusts to the chest, the watery grave flows out, and a breath of life is replaced. Muffled voices; blurred blobs, spinning and blinking lights. Then, everything becomes clear in sight.
A guy drenched and panting, kneels next to Benson’s soaking weak body,
“Welcome back. How are you feeling?”
“I don’t know. What happened? Where’s my Angelica? Where’s Angelica?!”
The man gives a quick glance over to Angelica’s body lying in the grass next to the river. Benson quickly crawls over to her,
“No, no, please God no.”
He shakes her waist,
“Angelica, please.”
She’s gone, but he doesn‘t want to believe. Gazing into her empty eyes and sapphire glow, he can see that her soul did go. Fingers trace ruby red trails as he closes her eyes, wondering why it was her who had to leave.
He presses the pedal lower, grips the wheel harder, and widens his crazed eyes, “Aaaggghhh!”
He flies by the cross at the death site; never glancing in the mirror, looks nowhere, but straight ahead. He stays in his trance all the way to the driveway of his empty expensive house.
Once he returns to his solitary house is when he feels most alone. He pulls into the garage, feeling and hearing his every move: the keys jingle as he turns off the engine, the handle pops, the echo of the door slam, his feet move heel toe on the concrete, the cold door knob turns, and the door creaks. He places the keys on the table, “I’m Home.”
The house is hollow like his heart, and hearing every inch torn apart. The house is like a funeral home, cold stale air and quietness. He walks upstairs, gently glides his hand on the wooden railing, and enters the bedroom. On the left side of the fluffy white king size bed lies Angelica’s sparkling blue dress. That dress holds the final few moments, thoughts, feelings, and scent of his beloved.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he places his hand on the chest of the dress, and smiles with a single tear and sniffling nose.
“I’m so sorry. I can’t deal with this place, my life, without you. This house is hollow and depressing, and so am I. I need you so much right now, to help me forget you, to make everything okay. If I could just see you and feel you. Trick my mind into believing you really are there talking to me and consoling me. Without you, there is nothing left to say. You were the sunshine on my back, and I need your shining love. One more time, just one more time, and everything can change.”
He walks about doing little things like coming his hair, brushing his teeth ,taking medication, looking at certain things, tidying up, pacing, anything. He’s just trying to forget about her and get over everything, but it drives him insane. He doesn’t know what to do.
Time slowly passes with the ticking of his clock. He massages his eyes, caresses the dress on occasion; and feels weak and powerless. The suicidal imbecile wears a halo around his neck, thinking he can be an angel too, but that wouldn’t be true. This nightmare can’t be wished away, and give everything back.
He stops and stares at the dress; he doesn’t move an inch. He contemplates hard on a deep dark thought, flooding his eyes to gradually rise to an objective.
He rushes from the room, darts down the stairs; whisking along the rail; snatches the keys from the table, and slings open the door to the garage. He slams the door, hurries to the front corner of the garage to grab a black tarp that lies on the ground, the shovel standing in the corner, and the battery operated flood-lights sitting next to it, then tosses them into the trunk.
The car door bangs. He presses the brake down as he quickly starts the engine, turns around; looking out the back window; constantly pressing the gas; anxiously waiting for the garage door to open. He rapidly taps on the back of the passenger seat head cushion, squints his eyes with readiness; releases the brake, shoots out of the garage, whirls around, and races down the driveway.
His mind plunges into darkness, and gloom surrounds as the rain beats down. The bright full cobalt moon shines through angled trees to light the path to sacred ground.
He reaches the grave-site and gets out of the car. His eyes are dark and glazed over, determined and focused on getting through this space to withdraw the angel from her resting place.
He sets up the lights, spears the shovel into the ground and digs; he takes up huge portions of the ground at a time. He digs to the rhythm of the echoed solitary memories, all the way until he reaches Sleeping Beauty.
The moon light breaks through thin bare limbs and falling rain, and gathers on the back of the headstone. The floodlights illuminate the front of the stone and the grave below it, but he is left in somberness; with the exception of some moonlight fading across his fierce empty eyes. His mind never strays from his objective.
He finally reaches her and wastes no time opening the coffin and heaving her lifeless body to the ground six feet above. She looks just the way he remembers her, except, she seems to be blue all over.
He wraps the body in the tarp and sets her in the back seat; grabs the lights and shovel, throws them in the trunk and speeds away from the graveyard.
“You’re safe now, my darling angel. Back and safe with me. I’ll take care of you. I promised I would…for eternity. I just need you with me, not buried in the ground. You’re my angel.”
“Benson, what are you doing?”
“I saved you from the grave. I’m taking you home.”
“No! I can’t be here. Why won’t you let me go”
“I love you, and I can’t let go.”
“You have to, this isn’t right. Don’t be a selfish child.”
“I’m not, this is perfect. It’s the only way I can live.”
“Then I can’t die.”
“Exactly. Everything’s going to be okay, you’ll see.”
When he gets home, he unrolls the tarp in the bathroom, runs some bath water, and begins to undress her for a bath, “We’ve got to get you out of these dirty clothes and get you clean. Can’t have you leaving mud in the bed.”
“Please don’t do this, let me be free.”
“You won’t have to worry about drowning this time, I‘ll be here.”
He places her in the tub and gently cleans her with a loofa; he washes off the dirt, but notices her once malty skin is now as blue as an afternoon sky; like a million blue roses exploding inside her, “Oooo, you’re all wet.”
“Please no, no. If you really loved me you would let me go and move on with out me. Not like this, not like this.”
He finishes cleaning, then carries her out of the tub; as if it were their wedding night, and lays her across the bed. “Now, to get you into our favorite dress.”
He begins to put the dress on her wet body; the dress she died in, the one he sleeps next to at night, the piece that completes the final moments of his last memory. He tucks her in on her side of the bed, gets in on his side, and begins to cuddle. He places his chin on the underside of hers, and his hand rests on her waist. He leans in for a kiss, thinking maybe he can magically heal her, rescue her; drink the sweet succulent poison from her lips; but there’s way too much to awaken her from this sleep.
“Why are you doing this?”
“ I never got to say goodbye. I told you how much I loved you, but I didn’t get to say goodbye. Don’t you see my darling, you’re my angelic blue rose. I just need to relive that moment. Sleep tonight, as if nothing happened that night.”
“I need to have peace.”
“You will, I promise. Just one night.”
“Just one night.” Her soul difficultly responds, as her dead body weeps.
He kisses her neck, gently places his hand on her knee, and glides up the thigh; pushing up the dress. The once crisp glittering blue rose shrivels, wilts, and turns black; her soul is trapped and can’t go back. He goes along as if nothing ever happened.
It was unnatural things this man did do, and so this story I told to you. People will do the impossible to reach that feeling of love, and not feel blue. Life brings death and death a new, remember what I said as true. I am the rare light of the cobalt moon, and saw two roses grow black from blue.
Better run and hide
