“I watch your window,

I shake so scared.

Spying from my room

With nervous unrest.

Night after night your fingers

Caressing the skin the skin that is so fair,

You slowly undress

Soon we will be together,

Until then, so cold the night…”

“So cold the night” by The Communards, 1986.

Timmy wasn’t sure if he was pleased by finally being put down or scared of what he might find at the end of those cold stairs. But he took the next steps without even blinking. After all, he had nowhere to run. And though he didn’t want to admit it, a great part of him was curling from this unstoppable curiosity that always lived within his heart. The experience itself made him feel original, special, one and only. For some reason his godparents weren’t enough at the moment. He craved for more of this “Timmy-area only”. He just didn’t know how predictable he was and that pretty much everything that took place ever since his foot touched the European land, have been perfectly planned, and what’s more to it-the plan was based only on what Anti Cosmo knew about the boy.

And oh, how much he did know, a human mind would not grasp it. And even though his knowledge was close to being endless, he needed to know more. Timothy was his only sacred book he lived just to read, and he was the only book Anti Cosmo ever wanted to write, even if his own blood would be the ink. The man would bleed-out with a smile on his face, just not to let the words “the end” happen and close the story. The only story that was significant in his life. So he counted every single step he took, but he forgot right away from the excitement when they both finally faced a great, silver door. The entrance itself gave the impression of a very old one, but frankly speaking, Anti Cosmo knew nothing about the door, he was about to use it for the first time, after all, as a fairy, he never needed any, nor he ever had the desire to walk in like a regular mortal. But this time, he was entering something absolutely new-after a long state of exhausting numbness, apathy and dying even as he used to refer to it, he was about to reborn himself. No, not that even-he had to correct himself-he felt and grew like a newborn.

There was always a cold wall.

Now he could see and touch a door.

And he could open it.

Behind it was life in it’s most pure form. For this very once he was about to live.

He wouldn’t be alone. He wouldn’t be alone and he would even turn the lights on and make a home. Lights would be on, there would be a day. Not the night anymore. And he would have a day there, underground, so eventually, maybe his eyes wouldn’t burn with tears and pain when he would see the daylight anyplace else. It would be fine, because he would get used to the sensation.

So he had to open the door, obviously.

A door is always a solution.

A door, because no matter how hard he might have tried, simply he couldn’t get into the dimension of light and life without it. One could ask: why was that so?

But, how do you ‘open’ a wall? How do you get through it without destroying it and the safety and isolation it gave when necessary?

Simply, you get a door. And you turn an obstacle into a way out of the problem.

The irony hid itself in the fact that if not for the simplicity of the idea, he would find it much faster, the obvious things he did never even consider.

They both just stood in front of the entrance, Anti Cosmo drowning in his thoughts on the topic, and the Rose, stood right behind him, blinking stunned ad the sudden stop and thinking, why was his host staring at the door for three minutes, practically unmoving. Was he in danger again? Why, despite his young age was he able to get this involved in psychopaths’ sick plans so often?

Finally, he came to a conclusion that maybe this was why he actually got his godparents, because that kind of events happened to be the best way to make him feel miserable, bitter and sarcastic.

Maybe he was already a psycho too. Now that would explain a lot.

Then again, who wasn’t?

In this measure, he was just noticeably above the average.

He was fine with that. After all, no one was really okay.

Well, at least for once he was special without wishing for it.

Were they even going to open that door or what?

It could be easier if he’d do it without waiting.

But it was always better to ask first, right?

Especially when the person beats you on the whole line when it comes to being an unpredictable

loon.

‘So, you’re going to open that door or not really?’ the boy asked.

The man blinked when he heard the child’s voice. ‘I suppose I am’ he answered after a while and returned to staring at the entrance.

‘Here’s my special tip: you won’t open it just by looking at it’ Timothy sighed, feeling tired again, just by the odd view.

‘Yeah, I’ve gotta…open it, yes’

‘Well, will you mind if I do that instead of you?’

‘Thank you sweetheart, but I can do-‘

Anti Cosmo didn’t finish, because Timothy took his hand into his own and pushed the door wide open by what he finally killed the terrifying waiting for the still astounded man.

‘Here. We both did it. Satisfied?’

‘You have no idea…’ replied Anti Cosmo, who now turned his whole attention to his hand which since that special moment he considered a relict. He kept returning to that one breathtaking second over and over again and he didn’t notice, that his precious one also stared at something in astonishment. Something completely different, something that was has been revealed in the moment the door got opened. The Anti Fairy’s mind, heart and everything was too far away from where they stood, busy contemplating and planning the future even further, but also in the usual situations, the world beyond the wall was nothing new to him, nothing worth really looking at.

But it couldn’t of course be said about the boy, whose senses found grasping all the new information almost impossible.

He never breathed with air so filled with almost unbearable, musky smell. He has never seen the sky writhed with night, darker than ink. Sky, where little, black petals fled freely on the fair wind, somewhere above him where he couldn’t reach. The place he was in seemed to cry in woe for something that was missing. Timmy wasn’t able to tell how, but he just knew it. He felt a great sympathy for Anti Cosmo at that moment, he couldn’t understand how the man could live in such surroundings, how was he able to put a smile on his face and laugh, when he, not even stepping in fully, felt completely powerless. The boy thought that suddenly, Anti Cosmo’s attempts to free himself, get above the ground, were even more than reasonable, that was completely natural.

The child was unsure whether he should stay or go on. After deciding, that standing like he was now is pointless, without a word he pulled his supposed to be guardian by the sleeve of his shirt and took a few more steps into the darkness. The man had no other choice but going back to the reality, which this once he found pleasant and welcoming. Getting a firm grip on his Rose’s shoulders, he marched on forward, forcing Timothy to do the same.

Anti Cosmo clapped his hands and the odd world responded immediately with a bit of light, that was coming out of quite huge glassy bubbles that levitated freely in the dead-dark sky, that now was just dimmed, but at least the surroundings of the two were visible.

Timothy took his chance to take a brief look around, but hardly his eyes got used to the given amount of light, he just stared in silence, as if the time had died. At first, as he entered, the boy thought he was literally nowhere, but in fact, he couldn’t have been more wrong. The first word that came out of his mouth after a long minute of bewilderment was “paradise”, even though he somehow knew that it didn’t fit there at all.

‘I’d say, darling, that it’s more of a long-time forgotten paradise, won’t you agree, blue-eyed?’ Timothy wanted to turn back to face his host, but at the same moment he realized it wasn’t his behind him where the soft and amused voice was coming from, but the top of an enormously huge solid statue of a noble and mighty man in a chariot, led by six winged horses. The sculptures only took nearly the half of the circus which ground was layered with silver, gold and other worthy ores that made a pattern for the water running in the riverbed made of silver that covered the whole space between the embellishment. The water itself came from a great, cuboid -shaped fountain, that constantly kept shooting out water into the dark sky, giving an impression of a delicate rain. Anti Cosmo was sitting on a top of one of the horse’s wings and played with the falling water while giving the boy a welcoming smile, slightly covered with madness quite hard to hide.

The view of the statues, the fountain and sky-high ancient columns and buildings that surrounded the circus would be the most beautiful thing the boy have ever seen, if only everything weren’t thickly covered with rust, dirt, weed and fungus, if only the water weren’t almost black, spoiled, if only the place weren’t rotting like a dead body.

‘What is this thing?’ Timothy asked, not really being sure if he wanted t get the answer.

‘Oh this?’ said the man who was busy with stroking contently the stone-made horse’s muzzle. ‘It’s just a sanctuary.’

‘Why would you need a sanctuary? Is it a matter of feeling inferior?’

‘Oh, seriously Timothy, get over it’ the Anti Fairy snorted. ‘It’s not even mine, it’s made for this old chap right there’ he said and pointed at the main statue behind him.

‘And who is this guy?’

‘Is your teacher really stupid enough not to teach you anything worthy at all?’

‘You wouldn’t even know’ the boy sighed heavily.

‘Oh, schools these day. I believe I’ll have to put some things into order soon.’

‘How and why are you going to do that?’

‘We’ll discuss that matter shortly. Now would you mind if we actually came into my place, because, you know, keeping my guest outside wouldn’t be really polite of me? And I got tired of staring at Poseidon just like that, you didn’t?’

‘So why did you get a statue of him, then?’

‘It was just included. I borrowed this place, I didn’t build it by myself.’

‘Borrowed…?’

‘Okay, okay. I took it. Here, have your Atlantis.’ Anti Cosmo frowned, just to see the boy’s reaction. And he indeed was delightfully shocked with the random news.

‘Atlantis?!’

‘Well, a part of it’ replied the man and shrugged his shoulders, taking the information as absolutely insignificant. ‘Oh, my little angel, and while I still remember, there is no way you’re going inside my place covered so badly in such a rich variety of dirt and with your clothes this tattered. For it is requested to be dressed properly at all of my parties. Let me now show you the way to my magnificent baths where you can relax and prepare yourself. Oh, and as for the clothing, I believe you’d prefer something less…feminine this time, right, darling?’

This way, the boy had no more time to talk about the Atlantis, as he noted his interlocutor intentionally dropped the topic. He frowned slightly, because he didn’t feel like being anyone’s and especially Anti Cosmo’s darling nor angel, but he decided he’ll take all that sarcasm bravely and proudly. On the other hand, he had absolutely nothing against melting down in a hot, aromatic and relaxing bath, just to ease his nerves, this far shattered extremely, even though the evening was still quite young. And the best thing in the whole bathing idea-he would finally get some time for himself only, a break from this run on that spiral of madness that Anti Cosmo pushed him onto.

‘I’m not the only one here who looks like crap’ Timothy said, hoping to out of his host’s sight as fast as he could.

‘Why yes, I might do myself some good as well’ the man chuckled suspiciously in reply and put his hand across the boy’s arms as he walked him to the baths placed deeper inside the complex of the ancient buildings.

Unfortunately, it was another time that day when the delicate Rose was absolutely oblivious to his loving and caring gardener’s actions. Notwithstanding his unawareness of the facts, the shock treatment was slowly being put into operation.

“I know that you know

That I’m here each night,

Watching and praying the time is now right.

For me to undress and caress you.

Until then, I’ll just sit here and dream…”

Throughout the blood and lust-filled centuries ruled by the man kind, many things could be and were said about one of the ancient gods, one who was older even than civilization itself. His picture has been changing along with the evolution of his worshippers, multiple names he was given, but one truth about him has never changed: the original Eros, Amor or most recently referred to as Cupid –he was never a masochist. Indeed, every now and then he was able to enjoy pain, but it was only when he was the one from who the mentioned pain was given to someone else. For he was the father of hedonism and he was also Love, he could not take any pain willingly, but the irony of his fate made him an eternal sufferer. Pain was the last thing the sad deity would long for, but he lived in a throbbing ache, both of his mind and body. And he was feeling it, he was feeling it now, as his face was deeply frozen in a lockjaw, as his cold, teary eyes were piercing the screen on his wall.

The view that his eyes were given were both stimuli for pain and pleasure, but he just hated when they were being mixed. And at that moment they were battling inside of him horribly and viciously, each with the intent do kill the other.

A few long minutes later, the battle was over, but there was no winner. There was nothing, except of his inner fatalities and sense of failure. He wasn’t able to watch the screen anymore. The god almighty fell on the wall, hitting the cold monitor with his blushed face, crying, moaning and sobbing in woe, his hands rushing down to his lower body, ignoring the leftovers of his shame completely.

And as he was pounding his body wildly, yearning to find in his manhood the needed relief, bliss and oblivion, he screamed his lungs out, his words filled with poisonous grief.

‘Why did the little boy cross the road?! Why did the little boy soil the other side?! Why, oh, why, hadn’t he yet died?! My, oh, my, he does need to die!’

He didn’t care then if anybody heard his cries, nor he ever cared about that later in his life.

Shortly afterwards, he was done, lying on the cold floor, covered with sweat and other liquids. He was exhausted, he suffered again, in these first moments he wanted to die, but he couldn’t even sleep. Many years ago he dared not to close his eyes, being afraid of a horrible loss, even though he was aware he had nothing precious to lose anymore. Eventually, there came a moment when his head denied him any access to the salutary land of dreams and the kingdom of his divine relative, Hypnos.

The room Timmy had entered was enormously large, it’s walls and floors all decorated with morning-lake blue tiles, with old gold markings and a golden bathtub with a size of a small pool, already filled with pleasantly hot water and sweet-scented oils. But it wasn’t what took most of the boy’s volatile attention, but a giant, silver-framed mirror that took nearly half of the wall which Timmy was facing. For some unknown to him even reason, it made him feel highly uneasy, but the urgent need to relieve his nerves and take a bath, especially in this splendorous bathroom eventually won.

Warily, he undressed himself slowly, as if he was afraid someone-his moonstruck companion to be exact, was about to enter the room any second. Timmy, being the misfortunate child he was, got used to odd and unpleasant situations, so just to avoid any, he traced both the mirror and the walls with his sight, searching for cameras or other suspicious devices, but oddly for him-he found none. After a minute or two of fruitless attempts to find a threat, he sighed with relief and stepped into the bath, moaning softly and contently as his weak, tired body confronted with the pleasingly hot water.

What the boy did not know, was that he wasn’t the only one moaning, for his secret lover and admirer was watching him freely from an other room, through the innocent piece of shaded glass that happened to be a Phoenician mirror.

He groaned lustfully, and slight thrills could be seen in the mirror on the delicate reflection of his almost fully exposed body, as he contemplated the breathtaking, almost ephebic body of his Rose in full glory, and his mind just flew up to his personal state of oblivion, as he noted all the tones of uncertainty painted on his face, fading slowly into content and relaxation as his Timothy began to feel safe in his joyous bath.

Anti Cosmo’s body on the other hand, was also willing to reach it’s cloud nine and finally, the man had a perfect way to free himself from what he was holding for long hours. He knew that his own skilled hands were nothing like being there and tasting him, feeling him and smelling him better, but it was all he was able to do now, but even this kind of self-satisfaction was enough for now for his little, unruly kittens, that now ran joyfully through all of his body, giving him shivers, electricity, taking his breath away, making him moan, making him pant, arching his back, forcing him to clench his teeth and bite his lip so hard he bled, just to make him sure he would simply go there for more and scare his fragile little porcelain-prince away forever.

After all he loved everything about the boy, not only his beautiful and brittle form and the innocence here to take away.

Everything.

Everything.

Oh, his sweet little petal.

He was everything.

And he, he was the mad gardener, who was howling to his close, yet distant Rose, as the wolves howl to the Moon.

Outside, in the decrepit sacred Poseidon’s garden of Atlantis, the wind was wailing and blowing wildly, brushing away to the black sky all the long-dead leaves, making them fly, making them dance.

The Atlantis for once in thousands years of bitter sorrow felt fulfilled.

It could be a playground once more.