Maria

This tale I am about to tell is not my own. It is, rather, one for which I played witness. This tale that is not mine, is a story as old as time.

Love

Loss

Jealousy

This story begins more than a hundred years ago but I will start at a more recent point in time.

As I said, this story is not mine. This is the story of my best friend. A friend that in truth I should have never met.

Ariana Des Marquis was at the age of five when her parents decided to move from a land locked valley in Arkansas to this little coastal town in Maine. Her parents, a pair of old money types, had big plans for their heiress daughter. A private school education, Ivey league college, but Fate, in a fickle fit of fancy, foiled their ideas.

By coincidence, or something more otherworldly, it just so happened, that by the time the Des Marquis finished their move all the private schools in our little state had stopped accepting applications. The little heiress, much to her parents dismay was bound for public school.

That is where I met her, on the day when all the students are new students, the first day of kindergarten. I was seated at a corner table, pouting into my juice box when a pretty little girl with auburn hair and a daisy print dress walked in and took a seat next to me.

For a brief moment I glanced up at her and then again in surprise. Her eyes caught my attention.

“You have peridot eyes,” I said and shyly held out a pendant secured to a silver chain.

She smiled looking at my birthstone. Offering me a cookie she pulled from her Hello Kitty backpack she replied, “your eyes are chocolate, its my favorite”.

From that point on we were best friends. Our bond survived having different classes, a unanimous crush and my wretched since of style as she so often put it. Through high school and entering college with different majors our friendship conquered every trial placed before us. We had no idea the real test was yet to come. Not only would our friendship be at stake, so too would our lives.

***

It was our third year of college when she met him. Tall, dark, and handsome didn’t skip the bill when they blessed Jakob Clark. His hair was the color of chestnuts and fell in loose ringlets around his shoulders. his eyes like copper, gleamed in the spring sun. His skin was kissed by Apollo. More often than not he would come to class with his hair dripping salt water onto his muscle hugging shirt. Muscles he acquired not in a gym but on a boat. Jakob was a sailor, had been since he was a child growing up in Florida.

Jakob and Ariana were made for each other. They were so a-like in so many aspects it was like they were mental clones of each other. The only real significant difference being that he had a bad habit of tempting fate. Almost as if he were daring her to test him. He would sail no matter the weather or conditions. He would leave for days on his boat to study whatever creature had caught his eye, leaving Ariana on the docks to await his return.

Return he did.

Always.

I stumbled upon them one day, at the docks. Ari was in tears, gripping his arms. He would be leaving again. I knew why she cried. The weatherman had been tracking a hurricane that seemed to be following a set path. A path that would lead to the area where Jakob would be anchored for part of his trip.

Ariana seemed like she was in such pain but that wouldn’t stop Jakob. He smiled and kissed her cheek whispering the same promise that he always did.

“I’ll be back soon”.

She nodded and hugged him tight, reluctant to let go.

But let go she did.

She knew that the sea would always be his first love. She was but a mistress. A mistress he would always abandon for his love but would return to in his own time.

She accepted this. She would wait for him, no matter how much she worried. No matter how many sleepless nights plagued her, she would wait.

You might have guessed that her parents were not happy about the infallible relationship. When she was born they dreamed of a union that would strengthen their family. They dreamed of her walking down the isle to a man of prestige and wealth, a Trump or Rockefeller. They refused to accept the perpetual nature and on more than one occasion begged Ariana to “come to her senses”.

Her parents soon had no choice but to accept the reality that was their love. After an oceanic picnic on his sail boat Ariana returned to our shared apartment with a ring on her finger.

Jakob had proposed.

Naturally being a college student and from a blue collar family he didn’t have the financial resources for a designer princess cut on a platinum band. But what the ring lacked in monetary value he made up for with sentimentality.

A vintage band with a natural pearl in the center that was surrounded by the crystalline remnants of fossilized coral.

He had spent weeks searching for the pieces of the ring. Braved all manner of weather and wicked seas, spent hours browsing antique shops and drove me insane asking endless streams of advice.

But to see the glow on my best friends face was worth the headache.

Little did we know that the history behind that band would summon a nightmare into our lives like no other.

So begins the tale of terror and torment.

Ariana was sitting on an old quilt placed on the damp docks next to Jakob's boat slip. He was set to return today and she wanted to greet him as soon as he pulled in. Her auburn hair danced in the cool Atlantic breeze. I had just finished class and decided to keep my friend company as she waited.

As I made way down a path along the rocky embankment a fog began to drift across the water. The waves grew still as the fog thickened. Ariana looked around in a panic. I rushed to my friends side and gripped her hand.

Fog in Maine was not an unusual sight, but this fog… this was different.

This fog was dark, like smoke.

Devoid of heat.

It felt like some kind of mythical parasite wrapping around us. A leach made from icy tendrils trying to drain the warmth from our bodies.

The hair on my arms and back of my neck stood on end. Goose bumps prickled my skin.

From the void came a sound.

A song.

Sung in a soft, weeping soprano, the pain chiseled into each word was palpable.

Deep within the darkness an ominous silhouette formed of shadows and silence. The closer she came the more intense the feeling of dread filled my soul.

The sound of the fog horn and the bright guiding beam from the light house penetrated the figure. In an instant it was gone as if it had never been there at all.

Ariana gave me a questioning look that I returned with a shrug.

We never mentioned it again. After all, the fog has been guilty of making the bravest of men bow to her mercy. It has claimed responsibility for all manner of horrific hallucinations.

As their wedding date drew closer she began to get more fearful. She became so consumed with worry that it was almost impossible to pry her away from the pier. Her grades began to reflect her depression. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else, something lurking beneath the surface that was the real cause of her emotional agony.

I would catch her spinning that ring on her finger. Counting as it turned. Again and again.

Paranoia consumed her to the point of making her physically ill.

She hadn’t been to any of her classes in days.

“Are you sure your okay alone,” I asked as I slung my backpack over my shoulder. I was heading to my parents house for my cousins wedding. I wanted to go but I was worried for my friend.

“I’ll be fine,” she relied thumbing one of her textbooks. “I need to catch up on some class work so I’ll just be here”.

She looked terrible. Her usually bright skin was flush. She had dark circles under her eyes and the light that previously shone from within them was dulled.

Reluctantly, I left her.

“Ari, I’m home,” I called as I stepped into the foyer of our shared apartment.

“What the…” I touched a light velvet throw that was tossed over the mirror in our hall.

Worry threatened to swallow my entirety in the silent apartment.

I rushed down the hall towards Ari’s room. Every mirror was covered, all the lights were on and the curtains drawn wide.

I paused at her door. Soft weeping was sounding behind the dark stained walnut.

With much more force than necessary I shoved my way into her room.

She lay on her bed in the fetal position. Crying into the pillow she hugged to her chest. The door slamming against the wall jarred her from her daze.

She bolt up right and flung herself into my arms.

“Please don’t let her take me,” Ari sobbed into my shoulder.

“Who?” I asked pulling her back to search her face for answers.

“Her,” Ariana replied in a strained voice and pointed behind me.

Confused, I turned.

There was no one there.

I watched trying to see if there was anything that may be misconstrued as a person. Some optical illusion that I never noticed before.

As I watched, a blanket that had been draped over a standing mirror slipped to the floor boards. In its reflective face stood a woman.

Her dress was that of a Victorian mourning gown. A black lace veil hid her face. Her hands were grey and withered, skin pruned as if they had been submerged for a long period of time. A black fog wafted at her feet.

From where she stood came a sound. Words strung together in a sopranos tune. Like a ship drawn to a sirens song Ari stumbled towards her.

I grabbed her by the back of her hoodie and snatched her towards me, slamming the door as we collapsed to the carpet.

“What was that?”

“I don’t know,” she sobbed nearing a panic attack. I hugged her tight to allow my breathing to even hers.

When she was finally calm she explained.

“It started out as just dreams. Not long after Jakob proposed I started having this dream of a woman standing by the ocean. At first she was… beautiful. Long strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin, but then… I don’t know. It was like she started to rot right in front of me. I started seeing her every where. Windows, mirrors, if I took a selfie, she was there.”

“What does she want,” I asked in a whisper.

My grandmother was Haitian. She didn’t practice voodoo, at least not that I can recall, but she was superstitious. She would tell me stories about ghosts and demons.

I remember clearly her telling me that human spirits that don’t leave have a reason. Unfinished business. That they haunt the place where they died, but no one had died in our apartment. The only other possibility was if someone brought something that spirit clung to, but everything we owned was all from a department store… except…

The ring.

“Ari, give me your ring”.

Confused she slipped it from her finger and passed it to me.

On the inside of the band were letters like what couples carve into a tree.

We rushed to the antique shop.

“Ah,” the shop keeper smiled, eying the ring.

“I wondered when the buyer of this ring would be back.”

“You knew I’d be coming to see you?”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” the withered shop keeper sighed, “I’ve sold that old gold band thirty times in the twenty-five years I’ve owned this store. Stayed longer with you than anyone else”.

“Can you tell us about it?” Ari asked and the old man begun to weave a tale of Maria, a fair haired young maiden from a wealthy family. She had fallen in love with a sailor but her parents didn’t approve. It was during the time of pirates, land barons and arranged marriages.

Maria didn’t want what her parents wanted, to marry for the sake of family. She was desperate to marry her love, her sailor bold, William. Sadly t’was not meant to be. He died upon the sea he loved whilst in search of riches enough to buy her hand from her father. Maria, in turn, gave her life to the sea that took her love.

The old shop keeper asked Ari if she wanted to return the ring, but of course she couldn’t. She loved Jakob too much to get rid of the ring he had so painstakingly put together.

With understanding and determination in her heart Ari planned to confront Maria at the same pier that was once the rocky shore that saw her last moment.

I don’t know what transpired on that pier. I had class and Ari was set on going alone.

Later that night I came home to Ari cooking dinner.

Odd. She had grown up with a house maid. I had to teach her how to make instant noodles, in the microwave. As I drew closer I heard a familiar tune. Ari was singing.

"My heart was pierced by cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

Nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold"

“Are you okay” I asked too suddenly, making Ari jump.

“Uh… yeah everything’s fine now”.

As the days drew on Ari began acting more and more… not like her self.

Everything from the manor in which she carried herself to the way she spoke began to slowly change. So slowly no one but I realized the changes.

When I confronted her about it she just shrugged and blew off my concern.

Jakob had finished all the research he needed to complete his project, so he would be shore bound for the foreseeable future much to Ari’s joy and relief.

Despite Jakob being home Ari became more nervous by the day. Instead of getting better, she was getting worse.

** * **

Then, it happened.

I had prayed that we would be done with Maria. The ensuing peace that came after the confrontation instilled me with hope that our lives would go back to normal.

The hope that I had succumbed to turned bitter. The peace, nothing more than the eye of a tornado. You know what they say about tornados… the tail winds, are ten times worse.

** * **

Two days before the wedding Ari stumbled into my room, on the verge of convulsing from shivering so hard. Her lips were blue, her skin pale, like death.

“I… know wh… wh-what shh-she wants”.

Tears streamed down Ari's face as she collapsed to the floor.

Throwing my textbooks aside I leaped from the sofa and ran to her.

Her body felt like she had been locked in a freezer. Her limbs were stiff like a corpse.

Quickly, I snatched my phone from the coffee table and dialed 9-1-1.

I met the ambulance at the hospital. Her heart had stopped. My friend was dead.

Until she wasn’t.

** * **

Her wedding was beautiful. The beaded lace gown hugged every curve perfectly yet billowed out in all the right spots to flow seamless with her movement. All her jewelry was nautical. Braided rope, pearls and aqua marine. The diy accessories were a stark contrast from the designer gown. The displeasure on her father’s face was priceless.

Despite the wedding, despite my roll as bridesmaid I couldn’t shake a sick feeling that threatened to consume my soul.

As the pastor came to the vows portion of the ceremony I understood.

Do you Jakob William Clark take Ariana Maria Des Marquise…

“I know what she wants”.

** * **

In the coming days I wondered who I was really looking at, Ari or Maria.

Doctors ran all manor of test but who ever she is, is perfectly healthy. There was no identifiable cause for her sudden onset of hypothermia. Doctors chalked it up to stress induced anemia.

I wasn’t convinced.

A short while after returning from her honey moon, Ari was in our loft painting. I went to ask her if she wanted lunch and was shocked to silence.

Ari sat in a trance, brush moving across canvas, an image forming on the stretched cotton.

The image of her wedding, only, it wasn’t her.

Maria was a victim of her time.

Her jealousy made Ari a victim of circumstance.

Looking at my friend today, standing on the pier watch Jakob sail away, I can’t help but wonder. Is it really Ariana? Or is it Maria behind my friends peridot eyes.