God will punish me for breaking what the Spaniards call “El silencio de los muertos”. The silence of the dead. With my own blood, I disturbed their rest, and now I myself am restless and lost forever in the kingdom between dusk and shadow.
Fiora wore a red dress.
When I saw her for the first time, she was sitting at the counter of a bar in the Plaza de la Merced, Malaga, looking over a glass of red wine. Today I know that she had chosen me from the beginning. She had always been my bloodred shadow long before I met her. Today I also know that all my shadows are blood red and will accompany me forever like an icy cold fire.
Also Fiora will always be there. During the day and on sleepless nights. In sleepless eternities, she will breathe her spirit over the waters like the wind of the sea, which in Málaga sweeps over the fish with its salty breath.
We talked briefly. About inconsequential things. Her eyes spoke to me. Her black eyes in the snow-white face that looked like it was completely bloodless. Framed by her flowing black hair, she mesmerized me. I knew from the first moment that I would do anything for her.
We went to a hotel room. Her skin was soft. White and cool. She tasted salty. The night was hot, the last day’s glow was still in the air while we loved each other. Her nails dug into my flesh while her thighs held me captive. It was as if tiny slivers of ice were penetrating my skin. Nevertheless, it was an intoxicating act of love. Her arms, her hair, and her moans enveloped me like a fishing net. I felt equally lost and secure. Her hot wet femininity held me tight. Her Venus lips pulled me into her body, seized me and seemed to want to devour me. I lost myself in my passion, and it was not until much later, too late, that I realized she was not breathing when she came.
We soaked the sheets with our lustful greed. Then Fiora put me into a noisy sleep. My senses faded, while I still felt her whispering a few words to me.
Today I tremble when I think of her icy voice and what she said to me.
When I woke, she was gone. I was naked and feeling exhausted. I had only found little sleep. It was just morning outside. The sun was above the horizon, setting the bay in front of the hotel in a twilight of night and day that had none of the friendly light of the south. The air was cool, a light breeze was blowing. I stepped onto the balcony and took a deep breath. The breath brought me no refreshment. I returned to the room to order some strong black coffee.
Fiora had left me a message: Mi sangre es dentro de ti. – My blood is in you