The Obsession of an Alien: eyes of desire

The sound of the rain feels like a caress, and when it hits the asphalt, I sense it as a gift from the gods, who have brought the rain to me tonight. I walk through the deserted streets, and the steps that lead me to her are the same ones that kiss the night sky reflected in the puddles. I find myself magnetically drawn toward her hips, as if a madness keeps me floating under the rain until I reach her. I don’t know exactly who I’m headed toward, but I know that she is waiting for me tonight. When I look back, the car lights remain on, and the vehicles are empty. In the houses, the lights sleep lost in the darkness brought by the night, and the city remains deserted as I continue my journey toward her. The rain intensifies; the streams flood the rivers and the sea, the waves surge propelled by adrenaline from the ocean, and the fierce sea receives the sky's crying, furious, wrathful, passionate, as all the stress, all the burdens weighing on my shoulders, are washed away by the rain. At the end of the street, among the trees and around all the deserted houses, a light remains on, and I enter that house, for the door is open, and the lamp shining from within illuminates the lawn and the rose bushes that grow and border the garden. I walk toward the entrance, and upon entering that house, it is completely empty, save for a heartbeat that sounds in time with a song and fills the property with music. It is a song I had heard many times before tonight; it belongs to a rock band, Snow Patrol, "Chasing Cars," my favorite song.

As I enter the living room, it is devoid of furniture, save for one truly old and precious mirror that returns my reflection back to my eyes. The music continues to play like a gentle caress brought by the wind, expanding within the empty house. Like all truly beautiful and authentic things, this mirror, located in the main room, is lonely as it stands in an empty house, illuminated by the lamp’s glow reflecting off the glass until it bounces against every window in the room, like a kaleidoscope with a single, powerful, pure light emanating from the mirror. I observe my face in the mirror, find my eyes, my features, my chin, my gestures reminiscent of my father's, my expression altered by life, both its good and bad moments. Then, suddenly, a woman seems to reflect in my pupils, and as I delve into the image of that woman, she grows in the mirror and approaches me, walking behind my back. When I turn around, the first thing I notice is how beautiful she is. She is truly lovely, very lovely. Her lips are full with a deep red hue, and her eyes shine like those of a wise owl, but her gaze expresses more than just wisdom; she looks at me with a warm, captivating fire. She walks up to me and extends her hand, seeking to caress my face, her movements delicate and gentle, generous with her beauty. Her blonde hair falls in waves like curtains of water behind her back, bright and golden, touched by the light from the mirror, and as I observe her face, she has the features of an angel, with delicate, fine cheekbones forming a gentle visage alongside a small, well-defined nose. I stare at her silently, for to speak would ruin that perfect moment. She gazes at me while the song continues to sound eternally, like the morning songs of birds that embrace you.

Then she takes one more step toward me, her hands on my chin, caressing my beard and tracing my jawline with her fingers. Without thinking, I lean in toward her and kiss her. Her lips are tender, and her kisses are fiery; she opens her mouth and presses it against mine, while an electric charge pulls me from my chest, magnetizing me to her. Her taste is as sweet as vanilla, and the aroma of lilies at dawn drives me crazy; I feel myself losing my mind with the fragrance emanating from her hair and her kisses. I pull away from her lips for a moment to catch my breath. Looking out the window, it's still raining, and the smoke from inside the house rises to the windows, fogging all the glass and the mirror in front of us. A scent of sandalwood and cinnamon from the smoke reminds me of the smell of incense sticks. The windows open with a strong breeze, and the scent of rain falling on the trees and the land releases a fresh, grassy, cedar-like aroma coming from the trees. She remains silent, looking at me with joy, and her smile is now visible like a glow. Then it seems to delight her, especially my expression of bewilderment and surprise. It looks as if she asks me to kiss her when she gazes at me, her eyes sparkling with a smile. And so I do; now the music plays louder, and she is entirely beautiful, pressing her body against mine as if she wants us to become one. I kiss her chin, her neck, and her whole body smells like flowers. She takes my hand and leads me to another room, walking with my shoes leaving wet footprints into an adjacent, huge, spacious room where the windows continue to shine, and a large frame allows me to see the mirror in the other room. In front of the mirror, there are pillows on the floor and an enormous bed, covered by a white rug and surrounded by white cushions on the carpet.

The song continues playing, and now that it seems she is looking at me singing the same song through her gaze, I feel suddenly nervous, but she moves firmly and calmly, walking toward me until we stand in front of the bed. She lies down on the bed, and her long white dress frames her legs and hips. I watch her slide over the bed, generously admiring her. Her hair cascades down her back, her pale skin revealed in a slit in her right leg and the back neckline. She has beauty marks on her back that form a chain down to her hips. The bed is filled with pillows and is as comfortable and firm as the sky on a bed, and a scent of lavender fills my senses. She sits up on her knees, her eyes fixed on me. Suddenly, the Snow Patrol song stops playing, and another song begins to play, harmonizing with the rain resonating from the garden, and the cool breeze saturates the area with rain and lavender. The candles tremble violently but do not extinguish; their flames grow, and the warmth in my chest expands as I watch the woman in front of me slowly remove her dress by pulling the white strings behind her neck. Then her dress falls over her hips, covering her legs and knees, and I behold a goddess before me. Though she is just inches away, I don’t dare touch her, my face looking down at her as I am much taller; still, she has me at her feet.