I’m smashed right now, drunk as hell, with a shit-full of emotions gyrating about my head. My mind space is a concoction of fear and anger. For the past four hours I’ve drank Vodka and orange juice, Vodka and cranberry juice, and finally, Vodka and grape juice. That’s a load of Screwdrivers, Cosmopolitans, and whatever the hell you call Vodka and grape juice- well, maybe I’ll make up my own name- the Crystal Room. Ok, that’s dumb, but whatever, it’s the Crystal Room that’s on my mind right now.
I had to drank myself sloppy just to have the courage to write down my experience. I hope to get all the details straight and not stray too far from the truth.
In 2001 the wife and I went to New York city. Surprisingly, I loved it, except for my final days there. A southerner in New York. I got the worst asinine advice and general characterizations from my buddies at work. One was, “Hey, don’t stare at anybody on the subway. They don’t like being stared at.” Well, who the hell does. I don’t want to live in a city where the people like being stared at. Creepy, if otherwise.
The people were genuinely nice. I never had any issues with anyone on the subway, but then again, I didn’t just sit there staring at people like they were exotic animals in a zoo.
Next to the last day of our vacation we visited Times Square. I was intrigued by the constant action, the incessant visual and auditory stimuli. There was so much to see and so much to hear. My mind was scattered and unable to focus. There were flashing lights, advertisements, and the constant blur of nameless faces and mindless crowds. I was enjoying it, but also a little overwhelmed. I asked my wife if we could go back to the hotel, but she wasn’t ready to end the day. She assured me that she was quite capable of taking care of herself.
“Honey, just go back to the hotel. I won’t be much longer. I can take care of myself.”
“You sure? I can tough it out.”
“No, go. Please, I’ll be fine.”
I walked to the nearest subway station and rode back to our hotel, which was at the end of the line in Flushing, Queens. When I got to our hotel I slumped down in the bed and immediately fell asleep; I was exhausted. I woke up around three in the morning, the bed empty beside me. I picked up my cell phone and called her but got no answer. There was a text message:
Honey, meet me at the Crystal Rose Room. It’s just down the street from the hotel.
The time on the message was 2:00 am.
I remembered the place. It stood out among all the other crowded storefronts, with a large neon sign of a scantily dressed woman holding a red rose. What was my wife doing at a strip club? She was a regular churchgoer, never missing and always insisting I go with her. Something didn’t seem quite right.
I got dressed and hurried down to the club. I tried to bull my way through but the bouncer pushed me back, shoving his large open palm into my chest.
“No sir. Only invited guests are allowed.”
“I got a text from my wife. She’s inside.”
“What’s her name?”
“Catherine Bressler.”
“Ah, hell yeah, Mr. Bressler. Come on in. We’ve been expecting you.”
The courteous welcome shocked me, considering that a moment before he was ready to stomp me into the ground. In a flash of a moment, I went from being a nuisance to a highly regarded guest of honor. I walked through the front door and into the past. It was an old-fashioned cabaret with the waitresses dressed in flapper beaded dresses and floral headbands. They were all wearing outlandishly large pearl necklaces. There was a pianist playing ragtime music, with a boisterous horn ensemble. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and cheap perfume. My eyes were watering, but I felt eerily comfortable, like this was where I truly belonged.
On the center stage, dressed in a tight, short flapper dress, was my wife Catherine. She was dancing as if in a trance. A man walked up on the stage and started kissing her. My wife seemed to be enjoying it, enjoying it immensely. I ran up to the front of the stage.
“Hey dammit, get your hands off my wife.”
The man stopped, turned his gaze towards me, and smiled. His mouth was full of yellow, jagged teeth, encrusted with a thick layer of plaque. My wife looked at me and smiled, revealing a similar set of teeth, smaller, but no less hideous.
“I could no longer live a lie. I want my old life back and I know you will too,” she said to me.
“Catherine let’s get out of here. This isn’t funny. I don’t like this.”
“But baby, I do.”
Two men grabbed me and dragged me to one of the back rooms. They pointed a gun at me and shoved me in wooden chair. They turned the lights out and walked out of the room. I tried to run and grab the doorknob before they locked it, but I was too late. I heard a mechanical whirling and a pink light overhead was turned on. I couldn’t see where the light was coming from, whether it was a lamp or a fixture in the ceiling. It almost seemed mystical, coming from an unknown source. The room now looked like I was inside a diamond, with a rigid crystalline structure.
There were a thousand reflections of myself walking through the many faces of the crystal, independent of my own motions. They were alive in themselves, more than a mere reflection. One of them called out to me, “It’s time to come back to your true self.” He smiled, with an impressive row of sharp teeth, more immaculate, and more regal than what the groping stranger and my wife had. My reflection stepped out of the crystal and onto the plain hard wood floor, progressing slowly towards me, with his hands raised, the nails of which were long and sharp. The closer he got, the paler his skin grew. He was dressed in a black suit, with a collarless vest, and bowtie. Atop his head was straw boater hat.
He grabbed me by the throat and as his cold rigid hands touched me, I had a vision of a bygone life filled with murder and debauchery. I killed and drank, lapping up the warm, copper-tinged blood of many hapless victims. In my past life I was a monster, a man willing to kill anyone, constantly thirsting for blood, never satisfied.
“You trapped me here, but I knew Catherine could never stay away. I knew the memories would come back, the thrill and the passion of it all would well up in her soul again.”
I fought back, pushing him away, but he lounged back at me, grabbed my wrist, and bit into the side of my hand. I could feel the pressure of his mouth tighten as he sucked in as much blood as he could. His white skin began to fill with color. I punched at his head, knocking his hat to the ground.
“Damn you. That’s a nice hat. Don’t fight. I am who you are and you are me. There’s no escaping.”
I noticed that now there were many different people, or monsters, in the crystals. They were no longer my own reflection. They all looked hideous and weak, trapped in a purgatory by their own better selves.
He lunged at me again, but this time he flew at me head first. I dodged him and as he came closer to the opposite wall of the crystal room, he yelled in exasperation, holding his hand out to avoid hitting his head against the wall. His hand was engulfed by the wall, submerged up to his elbow. He was laying on his stomach.
“No. Pull me out. Don’t do this. Don’t you want to be a god again. The power. The power.”
I knew what I had to do at that point. He had revealed too much. I put my hands on his ass and pushed the rest of his body through the crystalline wall. He appeared on the other side of the crystal wall, banging with his fists, and pleading to let him out.
“You son of a bitch. You’ll be back. You can try to deny what you are, but the thirst and hunger is always there. It might be buried deep, but it’s always there, and soon you’ll miss your… or, should I say our Catherine.”
All around the room were trapped souls, damned vampiric souls, waiting for their better halves to come to their senses and embrace the darkness that was once an innate part of their existence, boldly committing to the passion of murder and gluttony.
They were screeching and hollering for release. I wanted to get out of the room. Visions of who I used to be were displayed across the crystal. I remembered who I was and when I was born. It was over a hundred years ago. I thirsted, I hungered. I killed and destroyed families, mostly preying on the weak and then there she was- Catherine. A murderer fell in love. I couldn’t kill her, even though my stomach felt empty and my hunger was uncontrollable. I bit her, but not to kill, only to bring her into my world to be with me forever. She hated me for that and then I found the Rose Crystal Room. I wanted to give her back a normal existence. A killer felt guilty. We gave up the demons, but at a price. One day, we would have to come back, and once again don the cloak of a murderer, but this time in his service, obeying his every whim. The world needed balance, according to the proprietor of this fair saloon. It needed hunters to weed out the weak. I remembered now. He was known as the Scarlet Shepard.
The door opened.
“You’re not quite ready, but you’ve had your time. I’m not erasing your memory. I’m not giving Catherine back either. You belong to me, but I don’t want it until you’re ready.”
I looked up to see a thin man dressed in a red suit with a long black tie. He was wearing a black tweed cap and a chain with an upside down cross.
His goons grabbed me by the arms and dragged me out of the room and in front of Catherine. There on the stage with her now was a homeless man, dressed in ragged clothes and smelling of liquor. She looked at me, smiled, and buried her teeth in his neck. He struggled but her grasp was too strong. She drank him dry. He collapsed to the floor.
“You made me. You love me and I know one day you’ll come back.”
I was thrown out on the streets, lonely and without my wife. The shadow of my former self still lives. I left New York with new and old memories; some I had hoped would never be discovered again. I drink to forget my sins, but mostly to forget Catherine. I tell myself that I killed her years ago, that she never survived, and that I never really ever loved her, but then again, I told you in the beginning that I didn’t want to stray too far from the truth. The truth is that I would kill a million souls to have her back again