The Mistletoe

The dynamic that arose between me, Laura, and Carmilla was, let’s say, quite peculiar, to put it mildly, strange. My main tasks involved running errands here and there, chopping wood, and generally doing minor chores that required physical effort, which was perfect for me, given my superhuman condition.

My initial conversations with Laura happened during the day, specifically in the morning while Carmilla was asleep. Most people found Carmilla’s schedule very intriguing—sleeping almost all day and only appearing at dusk. “If they only knew how many young people in the present would behave similarly,” I thought. Many times, we’d stay up all night playing video games and take long naps during the day before a gaming session. But it was a valid point; locking oneself away and not emerging until dusk was an unusual habit for them, though not for me.

Laura helped me read some of the Arthurian legends since the English in the book was quite difficult. She often explained to me what she was reading, step by step, much like an English teacher.

We used to sit during my breaks under a tree or in the mansion’s garden. It was very difficult for me not to be distracted, but I tried to think of her as some sort of cousin to avoid getting more nervous.

During one of our conversations, she said, “Have you understood the sentence and its meaning in the poem?”

“Umm, I think so. To be honest, I read very little until now,” I confessed.

“Oh, I’m sure you worked very hard for your family,” she said.

The comment hurt me because it made me realize how lazy I was at home after dropping out of school. Even though I worked part-time carrying materials and doing things, I never really did anything significant unless it was at my father’s request, for my personal improvement. When I wasn’t playing, I was reading messages and posts on social media. I was truly lazy. In this era, if you didn’t read, you worked, and you did so with the sweat of your brow.

“Well, yes, but not enough, I think,” I finally replied after a long pause, trying to figure out what to say.

“I’d like to confess something to you since I already feel we’re friends,” she said seriously. “Tell me, no problem, I’m like a tomb,” I said jokingly, covering my mouth.

“It’s about my dear friend Carmilla. Well, she is truly a refined lady, and I enjoy my time with her, but I feel she’s a bit rude,” Laura said, looking ahead, as if processing what she was about to say. “It seems she doesn’t want to talk to me about her past or family. She has only vaguely mentioned her family; I really don’t know who she is, but somehow she manages to deflect attention using her charming speech,” she concluded.

I really needed to get used to this very poetic way of speaking from the upper class in this era. What did my dad call it? Oh yeah, Victorian. I think Laura was expecting some kind of advice on how to handle the situation, but I was the least suitable for those types of situations. First, Laura was the first person my age with whom I could really say I was having a decent human relationship. Second, I had also lied to half the world here about my past or origins.

“Just be honest with her, confront her and tell her, you guys are friends, right?” That’s all I could answer.

Laura looked at me with a smile and replied, “You know what? You’re absolutely right, my dear Miguel. I’ll try to be more direct with her; if we’re really going to be friends, honesty is the most important thing.”

Once, while I was organizing some things, I passed by several rooms near Laura’s room, where she and Carmilla were having some kind of discussion. Basically, Laura was following my advice, and Carmilla muttered something like:

“Dear, I know your heart feels hurt. Don’t judge me as cruel: I just follow an unavoidable law that constitutes my strength and my weakness. If your heart is hurt, mine bleeds with yours. In the midst of my great sadness, I live off your exuberant life, and you will die, sweetly, for mine. It’s inevitable. And just as I come closer to you, you, in turn, will approach others and learn the ecstasy of cruelty, which is a form of love. Don’t try to know anything more about me or my life, but trust with all your love.”

I let out a little laugh and tried to cover my mouth, thinking, “Damn, this woman speaks pure poetry, hahaha.”

After hearing what seemed like a kiss on the cheek, I could hear heavy footsteps marching towards me, and I saw the beautiful Carmilla, glaring at me with pure rage.

“Should know it’s very rude to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations. Perhaps in your land and your class, it’s common, but here it’s very frowned upon!”

I felt that change in the atmosphere again. Laura wasn’t nearby. Something caught my attention greatly. The distance at which I heard the conversation was significant—far enough for an average person not to hear, much less my stifled laughs. So, I approached, almost centimeters away from her face, and said,

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Did you seriously roam half the mansion to come and scold me? I don’t understand what you’re accusing me of.”

Carmilla immediately seemed to realize that either her accusations were unfounded or that I had picked up something from her that she didn’t want anyone else to know. It felt equally strange to me—I wasn’t used to someone being able to hear me, especially from the distance at which I was.

I took the opportunity to observe her better; I needed to understand that strange vibe emanating from her, and it seemed like she was doing exactly the same thing. We stared at each other, and I noticed how her pupils dilated, her breath quickened, and what seemed to be her heart began to beat faster. Her nose constantly tried to catch a scent emanating from me and started to twitch. Did she want to hit me? Attack me? Either way, she seemed to be approaching slowly, sizing me up, so I began to step backward.

Suddenly, Carmilla slapped my cheek, but I managed to catch her arm before she struck me again. When she couldn’t break free, I released her and said, “I won’t let anyone hit me, especially based on false accusations.”

Carmilla stepped back, looking at her arm and then at me. What did she expect? For me to let her slap me? I didn’t even know I was laughing at her overly flowery way of speaking, I wasn’t going to let a crazy person hit me for no reason.

Then she looked me up and down, gave me a seductive and victorious smile, as if she had discovered something new that she didn’t know before, and slowly left the room.

“Wow, that’s intense. Poor Laura,” I thought. The woman was very attractive, I admit, but she really was a complete nutcase, those mood swings were quite chilling.

After morning chores, English lessons with Laura, and the Arthurian knights, I could sit in my small room, relax, and try to give a glance at the famous Don Quixote. Slowly, I was starting to understand it, and there were even moments when I laughed while reading.

“Darn it! I’m laughing with a book! If you could see me, Dad! Your son is reading a darn book. Necessity sometimes makes you do very strange things.”

After a few days, we had to attend a funeral for a man who had lost his daughter. Let’s say I never liked funerals, but hey, you have to show respect, and I was here to support the deceased, or deceased in this case.

Amidst the chants, I finally heard murmurs between Carmilla and Laura, and I realized how odd Carmilla was with her comments about the ceremony.

“Don’t you notice how out of tune their voices are?” Carmilla remarked.

“Well, to me, it sounds like a very sweet chant,” Laura responded.

“They’re shattering my eardrums!” exclaimed Carmilla, quite irritated, covering her ears with her hands. “I detest burials and funerals. How many useless things! Because you will die, everyone will die, and everyone, after death, is much happier. Let’s go back home!”

I just turned my head and tried to contain my laughter at how exaggerated this woman was.

“My father has also gone to the cemetery. Did you know?” Laura tells her.

“No, I don’t care. I don’t even know who the deceased is,” replied Carmilla, quite annoyed. I really enjoyed the show.

“It’s that girl who about fifteen days ago thought she saw a ghost. Since then, she has been getting worse, and yesterday morning she passed away,” Laura said.

“Don’t talk to me about ghosts: I couldn’t sleep tonight.”

I couldn’t resist and added, “If she comes to see you, give her my regards.”

Carmilla looked at me and said, “Silence! I told you it’s rude to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations!”

So, I let out a little laugh, and Laura seemed to smile for a second. Then she recounted to us,

“Let’s hope there isn’t an epidemic around here. There are some symptoms. The pastor’s wife died a week ago, and she also said she had noticed a strange pressure on her neck, as if someone were trying to strangle her. My father says those hallucinations are frequent in cases of epidemic fevers. The woman was perfectly fine the day before, but after that night, she unexpectedly weakened and a week later passed away.”

I furrowed my brow; I had never heard of anything like that.

“Well,” says Carmilla. “I suppose they have finished with the funeral chants. Our ears won’t be tortured again. All these things make me nervous. Sit next to me, closer. Hold my hand. Squeeze it hard, harder...”

We withdrew several steps. Laura’s father had asked me to escort them occasionally when they were alone in public places or outside the mansion, but this seemed to bother Carmilla. “Sorry, but orders are orders, my queen,” I thought.

Carmilla was sitting on a bench, and I really thought she was just putting on a show. Laura seemed genuinely concerned. Carmilla was paler than usual, gritting her teeth, much like I did when I had to go do my duties in the bathroom, then slowly calming herself, always holding Laura’s hands.

“This is what happens when people are overwhelmed with funeral hymns,” she told Laura. “Don’t let go of me, I already feel much better.” Then she added, “Miguel, could you be a gentleman and escort us home?”

I offered her my arm, and she began to hold on quite firmly. That was my first, let’s say, more peaceful interaction with Carmilla. I’m not going to lie, despite her being crazy, I got quite nervous during the trip home. The sight was quite peculiar as I had Laura tightly holding my hand and Carmilla holding me close with her arm.

My head kept spinning with Laura’s story about the deceased girl. “Pressure on the neck due to fever?” I don’t know, but I found all of that very strange. Well, let’s hope things improve, and that none of us contracts this peculiar disease.