Saturnian Lead
By Jacqueline Doyle
"Letters, lambent and golden, grew duller than Saturnian lead wanting the radiant luster of her eyes."
--Edgar Allan Poe, "Ligeia"
Ligeia. That was one scary bitch. Okay, there was the opium, but that was after she died. I'm telling you, things were wild already while she was alive. She had all these books, for one thing, really old books, and we'd read them at night. It was like fireworks, shooting stars, I don't know, it's hard to explain and I can't remember what we read exactly. Way out shit, that's all I can say. After she died I tried to read them on my own and it was like, you know, nothing. The words were dead on the page.
Metempsychosis was one of the things she liked to talk about. Yeah, I never heard of it either. Your soul keeps coming back after death. Fucking spooky. And I was so far gone in those days, man, ready for anything. There she was, dead. So I thought lead into gold, find some golden blonde chick, off her and bring Ligeia back to life. And it almost worked.
But let me tell you, it changed me. Fucking scared the shit out of me. I wouldn't mess with any of that stuff if I were you. Sure it's out there. I've been there. The woman of your dreams, rising like a phoenix out of the depths of your soul, black hair streaming, wings spread, dark eyes hypnotizing you with the possibilities. Immortality? Shit, yeah. But are you sure you want it?
- - -
Jacqueline Doyle's flash prose can be found in 5_trope, elimae, flashquake, Monkeybicycle, and numerous other journals. Her most recent creative nonfiction and fiction appears in Blood Orange Review, Front Porch Journal, Prick of the Spindle, and Bartleby Snopes. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area.
By Jacqueline Doyle
"Letters, lambent and golden, grew duller than Saturnian lead wanting the radiant luster of her eyes."
--Edgar Allan Poe, "Ligeia"
Ligeia. That was one scary bitch. Okay, there was the opium, but that was after she died. I'm telling you, things were wild already while she was alive. She had all these books, for one thing, really old books, and we'd read them at night. It was like fireworks, shooting stars, I don't know, it's hard to explain and I can't remember what we read exactly. Way out shit, that's all I can say. After she died I tried to read them on my own and it was like, you know, nothing. The words were dead on the page.
Metempsychosis was one of the things she liked to talk about. Yeah, I never heard of it either. Your soul keeps coming back after death. Fucking spooky. And I was so far gone in those days, man, ready for anything. There she was, dead. So I thought lead into gold, find some golden blonde chick, off her and bring Ligeia back to life. And it almost worked.
But let me tell you, it changed me. Fucking scared the shit out of me. I wouldn't mess with any of that stuff if I were you. Sure it's out there. I've been there. The woman of your dreams, rising like a phoenix out of the depths of your soul, black hair streaming, wings spread, dark eyes hypnotizing you with the possibilities. Immortality? Shit, yeah. But are you sure you want it?
- - -
Jacqueline Doyle's flash prose can be found in 5_trope, elimae, flashquake, Monkeybicycle, and numerous other journals. Her most recent creative nonfiction and fiction appears in Blood Orange Review, Front Porch Journal, Prick of the Spindle, and Bartleby Snopes. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area.
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