From the blog

From the blog

Sanctified: Deitor Darker & the Infinites – Chapter 4

Deitor slowly takes in his surroundings as he pulls himself up from the floor; the toppled chair, the note he left for anyone other than himself, sweat stains on the dark wood floor beside the smoldering rope.   As he watches the fire die out, the slow burn of rage takes hold within him.

Where is she? 

How could she?

What am I?

What is she?


As question upon question without answer crowds his mind, his thirst for revenge tangos with his memory of passion, while the anguish of absence tears holes for an insatiable anger to emerge.  He crashes onto the bed to contemplate eternity and what to do about it.

As his head falls to the side he suddenly notices a note on the bed post written in Claire’s handwriting.  How could he have missed this before?  His outrage is suddenly stifled as he reads the single sentence, “The Cloister at Midnight.”  Deitor immediately understood.

Before Claire had turned Deitor into an Infinite, the couple would spend hours talking and solidifying their bond in a Montmartre tavern called L’attrait, “The Lure.”  The Lure opened up a whole new world to Deitor.  His life in Dusseldorf was rather drab in comparison to that of those drawn to L’attrait.  Painters, musicians and bohemians of all types would gather here, and Claire fit into their world perfectly.  She infused Deitor with a newfound appreciation for the arts, and fascination with the lifestyle.  Stepping into L’attrait felt like entering an endless movie that was always at the climax, with a new twist emerging as each character walked through the door and claimed a drink.

At the end of their nights there, Deitor and Claire would sneak off to a nearby cloister while the monks slept.  Vineyards stretched for miles and miles, and they claimed a quiet spot as their own that allowed you to gaze across all of it.  The scent in the air was an incredible mixture of honeysuckle and moss.   They would stay there in each others arms talking until the monks began their morning ritual.  One such night was the first time Deitor opened up about the devastating loss of his wife Marlene, and Claire comforted him.  She seemed to understand him as no other could, almost anticipating his thoughts.   The memories of his lost wife, the compassion and love found in Claire, the smells of honeysuckle and the intrigue of The Lure, all reminded him of a simpler time.  That time that now felt like lifetimes ago, and the feeling of home he once knew, now seemed forever unattainable.

In the years that passed since then, Claire had mocked Deitor’s affection.  She tortured him with her absence and empty promises.  Yet just hours ago she was here, in her presence everything felt just as it was before.  Could this note and her promise mean there is hope?  He wanted to believe it, and so he did.  The demon within him was satisfied.  No longer lost and confused, he felt content and excited to once again see his love and welcome a new beginning.

He arrived early, with time enough to enjoy a drink at their old haunt.  But The Lure that once was a mecca for the bohemians was now practically abandoned.   As Deitor entered, a younger woman glanced up at him from across the bar with a flicker of anticipation and then disappointment as she promptly looked back down.  A grey haired gentleman smoked in the back corner as he stared into his whiskey.  And the bartender began to mix a drink.  Deitor pulled up a barstool and looked around in a forlorn attempt to summon a lost era.

The bartender sauntered over with drink in hand and set it in front of Deitor.

He looked at the glass with surprise and asked “what’s this?”

“Asiatic Cholera,” the bartend replied.  “Your favorite if I remember right.”  “The years have been good to you I see.”

Deitor looked down, shook his head ever so slightly, and let out only a breath of a chuckle under a friendly smile.   ‘Oh, that drink she loved to serve me.  oh, that name.  oh, these years,’ he thought.

“Not so much to this place.” Deitor replied.  “What happened?”

The bartender tipped his head slightly sideways, looked out at the room, took in a breath as though about to speak, and raised an eyebrow.  In that single moment he both asked himself where to begin and simultaneously realized that the question was genuine, and he wasn’t expecting that.  He pursed his lips together, glanced back at Deitor, knocked twice on the bar and said, “The drink’s on me.”  Then he turned and went back to tending the glasses and dusty bottles on the shelves.

Deitor took in a few slow sips as his mind replayed memories.  But emptiness was not what he entered L’attrait to find.  He got up, nodded to the bartender, and traveled onward.  As he made his way to the cloister, a gentle mist began to spray and a low clock bell in the distance heralded in the midnight hour.  He was nervous with anticipation.   He walked through the vineyards to the spot he knew so well, ready to embrace her and finally resolve the questions and longing.  But there was no sign of his beloved.  He took the note from his pocket, to confirm he hadn’t made a mistake.  No mistake.

He looked around and took in the silence and stillness of the night.  As he did, his solitude became more and more apparent.   Perhaps she’s just late.  Perhaps I was?  No. She’ll be here. …I hope.  He sat down to wait, but as he did, his fear began to swell.

The fear of what you know is a very different feeling than fear of the unknown.  There is a sinking feeling of helplessness that settles in when you fear that what is about to happen is what always has happened and what you should expect to happen.  That fear grows as the likelihood of the predictable event increases.  In the unknown, there is hope and possibility.  In the known, there is nothing but the same.  The fear that nothing will ever change – no matter what you do, no matter how much you want it to – is a deeper more soul crushing fear than any other.  And that is the fear that is overtaking Deitor as he sits in futile waiting for things to be different this time.  Should he have faith that Claire will be there for him now, because of a note, because of a whispered promise, when all other promises had been broken?  Perhaps not, but he would wait nonetheless.

He laid down and rested for some time, then suddenly he was awakened sometime later by a whisper. “What’s it gonna be boy, faith or fear?  You can’t have it both ways.”

“Claire!” Deitor shouted “Is that you?”

“You’re weak Deitor” a voice replied. ” I honestly don’t know why I chose you.”

“Chose me?” Deitor said puzzled, still searching for the embodiment of the voice.

” Yes dummkopf, chose you.  Do you really believe this was fate?  You, me?
…Marlene?  So now you have it, the eternal love you longed for.  Is it everything you always wanted?”

A wicked laugh echoed through the vineyards.

He was very very far from home.

As Deitor struggled to make sense of it all, a demonic rage welled up inside of him.  All these years Claire had haunted Deitor, and still Deitor foolishly believed that they could find the happiness they once knew.  But tonight Claire had shown her true colors.  The gauntlet was thrown down.  She will pay for this.

to be continued on the album       Help bring the story to life   

Far From Home

It’s been so long, so far
so yesterday
since they told me you were gone

And I can’t help but feel
that I’m so out of place
this life just makes me feel so far from home

Far from home
we are so far from home
Far from home
we are so far from home

And since that day it seems
they all bleed into one
like every yesterday’s unreal

How I begged my heart
to leave you in the past
but god it makes me feel so far from home

Far from home
we are so far from home
Far from home
we are so far from home

Inside I bleed
no time to heal
the only one I need
never real enough to feel

Far from home
we are so far from home
Far from home
we are so far from home


All Too Familiar

Maybe I turned my back on you
took for granted all you do
the same old me, nothing new
all too familiar

I will only let you down
if you dare to stick around
the things you wanted from me
a distant memory that’s all too familiar

Fill in the blanks
read between the lines
you wanted faith
I needed time
well I fought for this
but you let it die
all too familiar
all too familiar

(instrumental break)

a distant memory that’s all too familiar
a distant memory that’s all too familiar

1 comment

  1. Valerie Riggi - January 20, 2014 5:22 pm

    Sounds great so far–leaves one wanting more. Great storyline.


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Header background art, Peter Bide Cui