Desperate Echoes

Entry 01

I’m back in my garage, and it’s much quieter in here than it is in my head right now. I am writing this to… Well, I’m not sure. To prove I exist, maybe? To anchor Skulda to the paper before I am too far gone?

Skulda.

I am Skulda Ironspine.

I am trying to make sense of everything that is happening to me while I still can. I have lost track of my sense of time. I am not sure what happened first. Sometimes I blink and I am kissing my husband, feeling the rain outside and the pressure of a chaotic Tuesday morning; then I blink again and I am bare-skinned on a cold marble floor that is cracking off in massive chunks, giving way to angry, serpent-infested waters. I am losing the map. I don’t know if this will help anyone, or if these are the desperate echoes of a mad woman being left behind as a breadcrumb trail. But I know for sure… The person I am right now as I begin this book is not who you are looking for.

It was an average Tuesday. I was looking for my next piece of furniture to work on. My kids were making the most of their toddler years and wreaking havoc around the store when she caught my eye: this massive vintage secretary desk. It was perfect. Definitely used and a bit crusty, if I’m being honest, but the craftsmanship—the cubbies, the slats, the delicate attention to detail paired with those crusty, old, velvet-lined drawers. My fingers were immediately coated in a mystery crud when I ran them across her top. I found my canvas.

Is that where this all started?

Was this a haunted desk?

No one would believe me. I don’t believe me. The desk seemed fine.

No, this couldn’t have been a haunted desk. It was fine until I started actually painting her.

Medusa.

Such a beauty.

She is the perfect symbol of a powerful, raw, feminine force. Why did I have to choose Medusa?!

So sad. Such power. Such rage. And the pain. It hurts, but it is all-encompassing. It is overpowering and overwhelming. All-consuming.

No...

Stop it, Skulda.

She’s fake.

This is not real.

My name is Skulda.

I am Skulda.

I am a mother.

I love art.

I love the places art takes me and the ways it challenges me. This is like that. It will pass. I am Skulda. Or at least I was. Maybe I have gone mad already. No. If I were crazed, I wouldn’t be sane enough to question it, right?

I am not crazy.

I was just painting the drawer sides. That desk—that’s what did it. Everything was fine until I started working on the drawer sides. I wanted them to look like cracking marble. I thought it would be a fun hidden element that would pop against her portrait. Her portrait would wrap around the sides, inviting the viewer to take a peek. The stone on the drawers—they were supposed to be a play on the marble floors of Athena’s Temple. Cracking away into the abyss of the Gorgon. I started getting lost in the details of this marble.

Feeling myself falling into the abyss with them.

Panicked.

Free-falling.

The marble was cold, similar to this garage floor, cold on her bare feet. But the cold felt almost good. Sensual. Like an ice cube on your neck on a hot summer day. The kind of cold that lights up your senses. The way it feels intensely intimate when it brushes your arm. The intensity in your thighs is enough to make you shiver. The way it takes my breath away as it touches my breasts.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” My husband—he nearly screamed with a horrified look in his eyes. He is standing over me like a tsunami full of rage. But I am only half there.

Is my camera on? Was I recording this session? I always record my art process.

The cold marble on my skin demands my full attention.

Wait... I feel my clarity slipping between my fingers.

I’m lost in it.

I can feel the ice taking hold of my entire body. I can’t take it; it’s too much. I lose complete control over my legs as they quiver violently.

And the snake. I see her coming towards me. She looks so familiar.

Looked.

Keep it together, Skulda.

She looked… so enchanting. Is this my snake?

Mine.

Our snake.

The cold is overwhelming me.

No... who is that?

She’s beautiful, this snake. Oh, she’s warm. She coils up my leg. The warmth contrasts the cold so intensely it sends jolts of electricity throughout my entire body. Am I moaning? The cold has taken me entirely. This is too much, it hurts. But the warmth she brings as she coils up my leg—it’s unbearable. The way it dances with the cold, lighting my entire body up. I am losing control. I can’t move, yet I can’t stay still. His ice brings me to my knees and her warmth wraps me tight, forcing me to endure every bit in full. I can’t take it. I feel my hands wrapped up in her hair.

Whose hair?

I can’t think.

I can only feel.

Did I just pass out?

What the fuck happened? I asked myself as I looked around the garage. My vision was blurred and trailing. Aryk leaned over with a satisfied smirk. I was still in a haze of confusion when he kissed me.

Weren’t we just talking?

Tenderly, he began wiping me with a damp towel as he whispered, “This is why I married you, woman. I love you. I hope it’s not awkward taking out the trash tomorrow.” He giggled softly in my ear before walking away.

I was so confused. I didn’t understand then.

I still don’t.

Why was he walking around in his boxers?

Tomorrow’s not even garbage day. What’s that terrible noise?

Oh, he is closing the garage door. But why was it even open? I’m painting in here and it’s pouring outside… This is making no sense. Where are my clothes?

Wait, this isn’t a towel. “Woman’s extra small” was written in cursive on the tag. Is this Marla’s fucking shirt? Why am I using her shirt to clean myself? I think I’m losing my mind. What is going on? I’m so confused, there’s no way. This is a joke... But how? No, I’m dreaming.

No, Skulda.

I was scared.

I was confused.

Anyone would be. It was 11 p.m. I was shivering, half-clothed on the floor of my garage, using my neighbor’s tank top as a towel. I tried to shake it off. I told myself I was working too hard. I needed to go to bed.

But what would I say to him? I’m afraid to even look at Aryk right now. He will think I’m insane. But I have so many questions. Maybe he will bring it up. I need to go to bed. I’m delirious. I’m insane. Did I just have a mental breakdown?

I’m not crazy.

I am Skulda.

I am a mother, an artist, and a wife.

I am not crazy.

I am... I don’t know what I am. I am here. I am writing this in my garage. I am thirsty. I need some water.

I should have gotten rid of that desk that day. But the topic never came up, and I definitely wasn’t going to bring it up. I tried my best to get some space from the desk, I swear. But this was a bucket-list project and I had convinced myself that I was overtired from my crazy schedule. A stay-at-home mother, three young kids, homeschooling, my own business, and a part-time job. Not to mention my garden and animals; I had gotten accustomed to going from the moment I woke up until the early a.m. Five hours of sleep isn’t enough and I had a slip.

I decided to drink some extra water and get some sleep, but I couldn’t shake the pressure of getting the desk finished up. I tried to get it out of my mind, but I found myself making up excuses to go into the garage and stare at her—at the floor, the camera. The camera! I always record my sessions. The camera felt heavy in my hands. The battery had died, so I changed it out for a new one and felt my stomach turning. I was afraid of what I would find. I started to tell myself this was all stupid. I needed to just get back to work while the kids napped and I had a moment. What an idiot.

Stupid.

Stupid woman.

Too scared to face the truth.

I wanted it to be a strange encounter with my husband and my neighbor so badly, but even then, as I pretended to be afraid of that, I knew the truth. It just didn’t make sense.

It doesn’t make any sense.

I can still feel the cold of the floor on my skin, grabbing me and taking over my entire body furiously like an angry sea. And that sweet snake warming me ever so gently and tight. The tighter she wrapped around me, the more feral I became.

I could hardly even feel the paintbrush in my hands as I tapped at the desk.

Deliberately.

Methodically.

Building up each sharp shadow just enough to accentuate her supple curves.

How beautiful she is. Even with her snakes. More so with the snakes. The danger. The raw power she holds in those eyes. Such a shame that a beauty like hers could never be seen again, never touched or embraced—instead taken from her. Like ice creeping in. Cold on her skin like this garage floor. The kind of cold that makes your toes curl and your knees tingle. The kind of cold that leaves you breathless. But her snakes are there. Right there. To keep us warm. It’s so cold. Everything is so cold.

“It’s 84 degrees, and you’re cold?” Aryk smirked.

His sudden intrusion startled me and I dropped my brush to the ground. Her portrait was nearly finished. Those eyes—I didn’t remember painting any of it. It was haunting and sad. Lonely. She looked numb.

Where is my mind going? I wondered.

But my thought was cut short when he threw my bathing suit at me. “I dropped the kids off at my parents; you might want to get ready for the party so we aren’t late,” he gently commanded with a stare that studied me. I must have looked a sight.

I should have stopped there.

That should have been confirmation enough.

Stupid.

Stupid woman.

It’s my fault.

I should have known better.

But I didn’t. I obeyed. I thought a distraction would help.

The pool was too cold. Marla liked to tell everyone her pool was heated, but her pool was always colder than my garage floor. That overwhelming cold. I decided to jump in and get it over with. Everyone else took their time at the steps, but maybe the cold plunge would help me clear my mind. Plus, if I ran and cannonballed into the pool, intentionally splashing everyone, maybe Aryk would stop staring at me with that concerned look in his eyes, I figured.

I went for it. Three quick leaps and then...

wait…

where is Marla?!

I panicked and slipped on the ledge when trying to jump.

The water felt like concrete crashing into my stomach, face, mouth, and nose. I opened my eyes in the water in a flustered panic.

Is that Marla?

Her light hair danced menacingly in the water. It didn’t matter, though; those piercing blue eyes stole the show on any occasion, especially when paired with her long, golden hair. So silky and flowing. So hypnotic.

Is she mad?

I can’t breathe; I need to go up for air. But I need to see if that’s her.

Why isn’t she helping me?

What have I done to anger her?

Is she angry?

I want her to help me. To come closer. I needed her help. But I was losing myself in her eyes. Those eyes are what will help me.

No, they are haunting me!

Those vibrant, enchanting eyes drifting closer to me. I hungered for them. This icy water touched every part of me. It’s so cold and I couldn’t breathe. I needed you.

My sweet snake, I want you.

Why are you so angry? Come to me…

No.

No.

No.

I am getting confused.

I am here in my garage writing this.

I am Skulda.

I am in need.

I am so tired. I need to feel her warmth. It’s getting dark. I may have hit my head on the way down, but I don’t care. My warmth, those sweet snakes… Come back to me. This water is too cold. The snakes coiled around my legs, lighting up every nerve they touch.

The intensity was too much and my body betrayed me when the snake moved up my spine. One involuntary gasp and I took in a full breath of water as if it were oxygen. This wet, cold monster—he was everywhere now. The cold. He had every part of me.

My vision was almost completely gone as my body tried to jerk violently. I remember seeing those blue eyes of hers and feeling the explosive relief bursting through my body as the snakes held me tight and wrapped me in their warmth. The ecstasy of it. Every neuron in my body all firing at once. Take me, we can be together, my sweet snakes. I never want to part with this warmth again. Come back to me.

I am yanked from my tantric state suddenly.

No, not yet.

Not him.

He interrupted us.

That invasive Poseidon.

No... Wait. Aryk.

It was Aryk’s arms that suddenly wrapped around me, violently jerking me up out of my ecstasy. I coughed violently. Water gurgled from my mouth and nose. He was concerned for my safety, but it was my mind that should have terrified him.

What is happening to me?

I almost let myself drown.

I nearly caused the entire thing. Why?

For Marla?

My sweet Goddess.

No, what? Why?

What was this newfound obsession?

She walked up, the water dripping from her hair and landing on my forehead like a glorious baptism. Every hair on my body stiffened; what an honor to be in her presence.

Use me, Goddess.

Let me be your shield, your weapon, your monster; I would be whatever she needed me to be if she would just keep looking at me with those piercing blue eyes. I wonder if Posi…. Aryk.

It’s Aryk. I wonder if Aryk could feel me melting for her right in front of him. I wanted to dive at her, plunging us both back into the depths where the rules of the surface didn’t apply.

This is insanity.

It must be.

These are not the thoughts of a healthy woman.

I needed to be alone. I needed my garage. I told him I was coming home to take a nap. But I am here. I am back at the desk. I don’t know who I will be when the sun comes up, but I can see the snake in her portrait summoning me.

I tried just now to pick up the brush, but my hand feels heavy… leaden. There’s a blurry, rainbow-like smudge clouding my vision, dancing in my periphery. I don’t know how much longer I can keep writing.

A deep, dull pulsing is beginning behind my left eye.

No, it’s more of a sharp throb.

Did my garage lights just flicker?

It’s not just a headache; it’s a pressure, a terrifying expansion from the inside out. My skull feels too small for what’s happening inside it. It feels... hard. Not like bone, but like something ancient and unyielding, touching the most sensitive parts of my brain.

I think my vision is getting shaky, the edges of the room blurring into jagged, grey geometric shapes. The portrait of Medusa is the only thing staying in focus.

My throbbing migraine almost makes her look alive.

It is clawing at my brain.

The snakes aren’t just moving on the wood anymore.

This is it.

I am going crazy.

Did I have any water today?

I can hear them, hissing against the back of my neck… or is it my throat?

The pain is a crowning weight, a crown of Stone and Venom.

I’m overtired.

That’s it.

I need a nap.

I can’t fight it.

I don’t want to.

The pain in my head has moved into my jaw… my teeth… My whole fucking body hurts. I can’t walk to my bed. The pain has almost completely immobilized me.

I will take a break from writing now and lay my head down on the cool wood of the secretary desk for a moment and wait for the pain to finally break.