Carnem Levare (5 page)

“
Why?” Stefano shouted to the sky,
sobbing as he repeated this question again and again. He finally
dropped onto the ground and remained there. As the ceremonies came
to an end, Stefano faded back to nothingness.

*****

Since that first day, when he awoke face down in the
water, he returned to the scene every year on carnival until it was
banned just before the turn of the century. When the festivities
began once more, Stefano was awoken by its sounds as before. As the
visitors and locals readied themselves, he was brought back from
hell. Made to suffer without his one true love. Initially, Stefano
could not understand why his soul could not remain damned in the
pit. The first awakening was the most difficult. It was as though
he were called back from the dead, but only his spirit responded.
But as the years progressed, he learned to accept his time on
earth.

Stefano was slowly being depleted. Though he was not
a huge fan of carnival, he still became violently jealous of the
men that walked around, flaunting lavish gold and black suits. He
even despised their majestic capes in tow. And he only continued to
wither away in the dingy clothing of his death.

Stefano passed through alliances, angered at their
happiness. He strolled through the streets and buildings, longing
for true human interaction.

No one even noticed when he paused beside the
gamblers and onlookers at play. Although he made it a point to mark
everyone, they easily dismissed the unknown. He moved with ease and
displayed the right type of manners. Yet whereas they all sought
total enjoyment from the merriment, he had a different kind of
need.

Stefano needed reminders of his human life. Seeing
everyone’s joy only added to his frustration. Friends complimenting
one other . . . toasting rounds of potent spirits . . . exaggerated
laughter. The display was torturous to say the least. And although
he wanted them all to pay for his misfortunes, the jealousy that
had infested his soul over these years made him feel relevant. So
Stefano fed it during these public events. Whether sneering at the
crowds in St. Mark’s Square, the Bridge of Sighs or throughout the
many alleyways, Stefano had no choice but to be content in his
eternal chamber.

As he turned to exit from another location, there
she
stood. A mortal angel. She was a fixture amongst the
bustling carnival goers. Whereas many of the other women were
plastered across winged chairs, some piled on one another in overly
jubilant displays, this beauty remained friendless. As some women
basked in the companionship of their men; not due to a lack of
appeal, she stood alone. Her sole companion was a bright red flower
that was easily distinguishable.

Stefano stood in front of her, determined to be her
unseen escort. His fingers caressed her face, though she felt
naught. He sniffed what little of her golden locks he could, as her
tresses were secure in a bun. Very little of her bustling figure
was exposed, though her pointed chin and firm upper neck led him to
believe that she was young and prized. He wondered if she was
amongst the common residents. No one could know, since there were
no class restrictions during carnival. Many blended easily and were
unafraid to wear the garb of all things immoral. Yet she only
continued to silently study the rooms.

After several minutes had passed, the woman let out
a sigh and rushed through the door. Her slippers pounded against
the pavement. Stefano followed in full pursuit. He trailed close
by, eventually ending up at her side, adjacent to the main docks.
She stopped at the edge, briefly teetering. It was all on
purpose.

Is she looking to end her life?
Though
Stefano had come to appreciate his situation, he would not wish it
on anyone. Being stuck between life and salvation was a lonely
place.

The woman started sobbing. Anguish vibrated through
the wavering air. Stefano wanted to be of comfort, though his
normal stance was typically the exact opposite. He understood the
guttural cries of rejection. His entire existence was based on it.
And as she cried, he joined in her pain. Stefano could relate to
this poor lonely woman. He created a friendship, a binding need. He
was lost and alone, even depressed. The same could be said of his
new friend.

She eventually backed away from the edge, plopping
down on the stony ground. Stefano had become so fixated on her that
he didn’t realize they were no longer alone.

“
Byanca?” a baritone voice sounded
from behind Stefano.

She immediately rose, using the sparkling material
of her gown to hide her tears. The stranger helped her from the
ground. Her rose drifted to the pavement.

“
Were you crying?” the man
asked.

“
Carlino . . .” She fell into his
arms.

“
Why did you leave, mio amore?”
Carlino towered over Byanca. He was a burly fellow that could
potentially swallow up the woman, though she was sizeable herself.
“I could not leave Violletta without making her suspicious. A
change of my mask alone would not suffice. She would know my
deceit.” Carlino patted and drew attention to his
potbelly.

“
Very well. You are with me now.”
Byanca threw her arms about his large waistline. They swaddled
against one another.

Stefano was initially confused. When his stalking
victim had first rushed into the arms of this intruder, Stefano had
stared in disbelief. His sadness momentarily subsided while he
sought to make sense of their conversation.

She . . . Byanca, is supposed to be like me.

We are lonely souls.

She wanted to take her life.

Is that not her reason for standing at the edge?

When Stefano finally stood up, the couple was
suckling like animals. He paced around them, frustrated in their
happiness. The man had taken away his companion. The woman had
jilted him, much like the way Anastasia had done so long ago. And
with each step, Stefano’s feet began thudding. He didn’t believe in
taking advantage of his ghostly abilities to spook anyone. That was
never his hope, but today was different. Byanca had used him, and
apparently for a married man! How dare she cry on his shoulders,
only to plunge back into this cheater’s arms? And although Byanca
was not aware of this unspoken friendship and unseen occupant, she
was already tied to the spirit’s madness.

As Stefano’s stomp came to life for the pair, they
halted.

“
Did the pier shake?” Byanca
asked.

“
Impossible.” Carlino placed her
behind him, looking around in search of an explanation. With the
exception of the celebrations in the distance, the muffled sounds
could do little damage. “Stay here,” he commanded. His gaze
stretched from one end of the canal to the other. He inched
forward, hands spread along his sides. A costume of brass only made
him a spectacle, Stefano considered. And the longer he stared at
this disturbance, the greater Stefano’s disdain.

“
Bastard!” Stefano yelled, placing
his hands against the cheater’s lower back and shoving Carlino out
into the water. He became swamped all at once. Drenched and
fighting desperately to stay afloat, Carlino gurgled. His hands
splattered against the top of the waves. He struggled in vain.
Unable to swim, he tried looking around for a gondola. Not a single
one was in close proximity since he was well into the
canal.

Byanca screamed into the chilly night air, rotating
between her love’s position and the path they’d taken to end up on
the pier.

Carlino grunted. Eyes widening, he prompted Byanca.
“Be-beside . . . gho . . .”

The more he struggled to remain above water, the
more determined the underground forces became. And with the
addition of wet fabric clinging to his portly frame, his fate was
inevitable. Carlino’s body sank quickly, while a plump finger
pointed to the side of Byanca’s head. As death tagged him within
seconds of hitting the waters, he entered an in-between realm,
allowing him to see his murderer.

Byanca landed on the ground, desperately sobbing and
reaching toward her lover. Stefano happily comforted her by
stooping at her side. Though his countenance now shone, he gladly
welcomed her sadness once again.

*****

Time could not rid Stefano of Anastasia’s beauty,
nor of her delicate essence and melodic tone. No matter where his
spirit roamed, he would be confronted with even the slightest of
memories. The images never ceased, the triggers remained
ever-present.

Stefano chose to overlook the dreaded reminder of
their earlier fate so long ago. Instead he held out hope. Just as
he had returned, Stefano hoped that someday Anastasia would as
well. Every now and again, a figure would present itself. Be it
when he strolled along the many alleyways and portals,
contemplating that fated day, or even when he frequented the busy
venues of carnival. Her pleading blue irises he’d always find.
Similarly, curly blond tresses he’d trail behind. Her gently
swaying figure, presumably unknown to many men, would taunt. And
upon bursting through with sadistic urgencies, disappointment would
present itself time and again.

*****

Another year, another Carnem Levare had begun. This
annual celebration held promise, as well as a reminder of that
dreaded night. Stefano, however, used it to mark the day his life
became unworthy, unholy and inhumane. As the festivities triggered
his return to the location of his wrongdoings, Stefano wept.

This time, things were no different. His crimes
remained entrenched in his mind, forcing him to relive every deed
during his sleepless nights of carnival. And no matter how he found
the urges, his initial lust remained.

The night’s air was enticing. Lowly sounds, whispers
of love, easily overpowered the brash noises of carnival. His
journey was tainted amongst the living. He constantly scorned their
happiness and cursed them.

As with any other time, he hunted the paths. A pair
stood nearby, holding hands. While the man playfully ran his palms
along the lower half of his belle’s exposed wrists, she giggled.
With each sound, Stefano grew angrier. The torture was too similar
to Anastasia’s. He would even draw into the woman’s face, too close
to really truly see her. Yet no matter how he presented himself
into her space, she would never be able to acknowledge his
existence.

Stefano had spent ages seeking out replications of
his once beloved fiancée. He would shoot explicit words into the
open air; wrap his arms around his target’s waist and cry for all
the ages. But none of this mattered because they never heard him
and certainly never felt him, at least not under normal
circumstances.

His anger had manifested to the height of
bitterness. So while partaking of this couple’s private moment,
Stefano experienced something that had eluded him since death had
changed his life: Electrified human contact. During his course of
taunting, his nails happened along the young lady’s chin, drawing
along the edges. She jolted. Her eyes widened. She reached upwards,
touching the very same spot. Apparently unsatisfied, she removed
her gloves to again caress the spot. Stefano reached forward as
well.

There . . . again.

“
Can we leave, Bastiano?” Her voice
quivered. She quickly gazed around, then removed the mask that had
covered the top half of her face.

Stefano gasped. She was the splitting image of
Anastasia. Tears immediately filled his eyes. He placed his arms
around her. She swatted.

“
Are you ill?” Bastiano asked. As
Stefano’s spirit cuddled from her side, this man bypassed the
invisible stranger. In the land of the living, Bastiano was
oblivious to timeless occurrences. “Speak to me,
Anastasia.”

Anastasia
?

Stefano could not believe what he heard and saw . .
. his true love. He did not know how to accept hearing her name,
knowing that after searching, she was finally in his presence
again. But as the man continued speaking and reassuring
his
Anastasia, offering his support for her ailment, Stefano’s emotions
turned dark.

My Anastasia promised eternal love
. . .

He couldn’t determine how, but finally Anastasia was
alive. She was breathing, moving amongst the living. He was dead,
trapped in an in-between world. This was perhaps an eternal
punishment for his sins, although the punishment only allowed him
to grow darker.

As Stefano continued to cuddle Anastasia, Bastiano
did the same, the unknown element refusing to retreat. And so,
Anastasia grew wearier. She shivered and weakened with each passing
moment.

Bastiano started to direct her away. Stefano had no
choice but to unhand her. The couple maneuvered through the crowds,
pausing from time to time only momentarily. Everyone was jolly,
celebrating the season, unaware of the heartbreak.

“
Come back to me, Anastasia!”
Stefano shouted behind them. It was more difficult for him to
follow, as tears quickly blocked his sight. The patrons piled on,
filling the streets and killing any hope of reaching her. His
abilities could have transported him nearer to them, but today was
different. He was thrown into remembering a mortal existence. He’d
forgotten what it felt like to care, to love and even to breathe.
Seeing Anastasia, however, after a lifetime of emptiness, Stefano’s
emotions flowed again. Tears plummeted down his face, and although
life had not existed for far too long, he could almost feel a
heartbeat. Moreover, there was a paining, much similar to the time
when he had first lost his soul mate, Anastasia.