most of the lines from memory, inserting his own adlibs in melodramatic fashion. I laughed and played along with him. When he mimicked Westley's lines he sounded spot on and my heart fluttered each time he said, "As you wish."
"Death cannot stop true love," Westley said, "all it can do is delay it for a while."
Oh how I wished that were true.
At the end of the movie he stared at the end credits while a tear rolled down his cheek. I reached my hand toward that jewel and took it on my finger. I felt the warmth of his tear for a few seconds before my reality realigned with his and it vanished from my finger and dropped off his cheek. I had to talk to him, to reach out to him and let him know he wasn't alone. I pressed my hands against his cheeks and put my forehead to his. His eyes widened and looked into mine. I felt the merge occur without realizing what was happening.
Images scattered into my mind like wind-driven snow. Heart thumping, hot blood rushing, flesh, aches, weight, a stuffy nose, the intense need to pee—it hit me all at once and so soon that my consciousness faded for a split instant. Pent-up frustration pinched my chest and anger pounded against my ribs, looking for release.
The torrent deluged my senses and I fought to stop it. Equilibrium stopped the onslaught. I was a full vessel. Nothing more could enter. I felt heavy. Warm. A dull jab of discomfort persisted in my bladder. I tried to move but could not. I was locked in a prison of flesh.
Nick rushed to a mirror and stared into it. He put a hand to his forehead for a second then lowered it.
"What's going on with me?" He looked closely at his right eye, gasped, and staggered back. "Bloody hell, I'm going mental."
He walked down the hall to a bathroom, unzipped his pants and relieved himself. The discomfort in my—his groin vanished, replaced by an aching desire that only a woman could quench. Other aches and pains made themselves known. One of his wrists was sore, and his knee clicked when he walked. He'd hurt it while trying to escape this place. I felt his heart beating. Felt real air enter his lungs. I felt alive.
I still couldn't move, couldn't think straight. A claustrophobic attack pressed in from all sides. I was losing myself, trapped in his skin. I panicked and flitted. Some period of time passed, maybe minutes, maybe hours before I realized I was looking down on the facility from above. I'd escaped, but parts of him lingered within me and I was incredibly drained. I looked at my hands and saw they were translucent. I could hardly think or move. For the first time as a ghost, I fell into something resembling sleep.
I dreamt of Nick.
He thinks of his parents, dead over a year and pain clenches his stomach. But the pain isn't as bad now, not like it was. Jenny is gone and nothing holds him in London.
He wonders about the gap in time after his parents died. He speaks to a therapist who tells him how people handle grief differently from each other. Therapy doesn't help. The pain follows him everywhere. A dead uncle leaves him money, so he travels the world and ends up in the United States where he meets his father's side of the family.
He speaks to his cousin, Tim, and accepts an offer to come to Antarctica with him as copilot and fly sorties as the researchers leave for the winter. He loves the terrain, the snow, the mountains, the isolation. He thinks it might be a good place to stay for a while. Away from people. Far away from the pain.
A generator fails, and 30 people preparing for a winter stay abandon their plans. His cousin tells him of a winter storm on approach. Nick gives up his seat on the plane so more researchers can be flown to the coast for evacuation. Nick waits by the radio when the plane is overdue. He hopes his cousin is okay. He tries to contact other bases. He tries the satellite phone. No answer. He doesn't know
"Death cannot stop true love," Westley said, "all it can do is delay it for a while."
Oh how I wished that were true.
At the end of the movie he stared at the end credits while a tear rolled down his cheek. I reached my hand toward that jewel and took it on my finger. I felt the warmth of his tear for a few seconds before my reality realigned with his and it vanished from my finger and dropped off his cheek. I had to talk to him, to reach out to him and let him know he wasn't alone. I pressed my hands against his cheeks and put my forehead to his. His eyes widened and looked into mine. I felt the merge occur without realizing what was happening.
Images scattered into my mind like wind-driven snow. Heart thumping, hot blood rushing, flesh, aches, weight, a stuffy nose, the intense need to pee—it hit me all at once and so soon that my consciousness faded for a split instant. Pent-up frustration pinched my chest and anger pounded against my ribs, looking for release.
The torrent deluged my senses and I fought to stop it. Equilibrium stopped the onslaught. I was a full vessel. Nothing more could enter. I felt heavy. Warm. A dull jab of discomfort persisted in my bladder. I tried to move but could not. I was locked in a prison of flesh.
Nick rushed to a mirror and stared into it. He put a hand to his forehead for a second then lowered it.
"What's going on with me?" He looked closely at his right eye, gasped, and staggered back. "Bloody hell, I'm going mental."
He walked down the hall to a bathroom, unzipped his pants and relieved himself. The discomfort in my—his groin vanished, replaced by an aching desire that only a woman could quench. Other aches and pains made themselves known. One of his wrists was sore, and his knee clicked when he walked. He'd hurt it while trying to escape this place. I felt his heart beating. Felt real air enter his lungs. I felt alive.
I still couldn't move, couldn't think straight. A claustrophobic attack pressed in from all sides. I was losing myself, trapped in his skin. I panicked and flitted. Some period of time passed, maybe minutes, maybe hours before I realized I was looking down on the facility from above. I'd escaped, but parts of him lingered within me and I was incredibly drained. I looked at my hands and saw they were translucent. I could hardly think or move. For the first time as a ghost, I fell into something resembling sleep.
I dreamt of Nick.
He thinks of his parents, dead over a year and pain clenches his stomach. But the pain isn't as bad now, not like it was. Jenny is gone and nothing holds him in London.
He wonders about the gap in time after his parents died. He speaks to a therapist who tells him how people handle grief differently from each other. Therapy doesn't help. The pain follows him everywhere. A dead uncle leaves him money, so he travels the world and ends up in the United States where he meets his father's side of the family.
He speaks to his cousin, Tim, and accepts an offer to come to Antarctica with him as copilot and fly sorties as the researchers leave for the winter. He loves the terrain, the snow, the mountains, the isolation. He thinks it might be a good place to stay for a while. Away from people. Far away from the pain.
A generator fails, and 30 people preparing for a winter stay abandon their plans. His cousin tells him of a winter storm on approach. Nick gives up his seat on the plane so more researchers can be flown to the coast for evacuation. Nick waits by the radio when the plane is overdue. He hopes his cousin is okay. He tries to contact other bases. He tries the satellite phone. No answer. He doesn't know
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