2002, Drakkar Productions
"So I met this one in Berlin, she was a real claustrophile, you know the type…"
I nodded, even though I didn't. It saved time.
"Always lapsing back into a fetal position, sometimes she even sucked her thumb, it was mildly amusing in that pretending-to-be-a-pedophile mood you sometimes get into…"
"You? Or me? Or one? I count two 'philes"
"Well, one has to pretend, of course…"
"Absolutely." Two more drinks came to the table, he lit a cigarette.
"She said her greatest wish, her deepest desire, was to live in a coffin. Not to die, but to be enclosed, to travel around that way."
I coughed. "To travel?"
"She fantasized about living in a giant wooden coffin that would be carried around Europe, she would have everything inside there with her, whatever she needed. She would never have to leave it."
"Everything she needed?"
"Well, you know...books and music."
"What else is there?" My smile was barely perceptible.
"Sounds a little morbid."
His face mocked mine. "Is there any other way?"
I waved that away with one hand while the other reached for his cigarettes. "And she liked…what kind of music?"
"She only listened to one band, I think they were called…Shooter? Jewter? She said they reminded her of when she was a child, something about running in the snow."
"Ah, that memory."
"Yes." His face grew somber, pale in the light from the overhanging lamp. "I have that memory too."
I took a long drink from my wet glass. My hands were shaking. He pretended not to notice.
"Arcane yet aggressive. Shreds of Swedish glory, descending from Marduk, but given a twist of elder Norway to keep it black. Rhythms like an artillery barrage. Throat ripping wolf screams and howls. You can hear the full moon…"
I laughed. "You can hear it?"