From:         Mary Anne Prashina <Rainman55@AOL.COM>
Subject:      THE FOURTH DIMENSION

In the mid-night semi-darkness of her room she awoke with a start. The
multi-coloured Christmas lights that stretched across her bedroom ceiling
glowed gaily - casting twinkling glimmers off of the metal cages of the two
guinea pigs that shared her crowed abode.

Anyone, other than her friends, would have found Christmas lights out of
place at this time of year. But her friends understood that she found solace
in the lights' perpetual gaiety, and how they brought comfort to what was
often a painful and weary life. She'd often laid in bed and gazed at them,
pretending that they were night stars that fell from the heavens. Besides,
they made an excellent nightlight - out of the ordinary - just as she was
now, and always had been.

Upon suddenly awakening, she felt a cold sweat drench her, even in the chill
of a Midwestern spring. But she was long used to it, the night-sweats being
just one of many annoying manifestations of CFIDS**, along with the chronic
insomnia that often kept her awake, even though she longed for sleep. But
tonight she had been sound asleep, so WHY the sudden wakefulness?? THAT was
what she found unusual.

Now, fully awake, she stared at the lights and listened intensely to the
night noises. The wind moaned lowly - THAT was what had awakened her - the
wind ! Well, not actually the wind itself, but rather the plaintive moaning
sound it made. It sounded as if it were asking some unanswerable question or
calling out to someone lost. It's unnatural sound sent shivers throughout her
body, for it sounded to her like what she imagined the Banshee of Celtic
folklore must sound like when fore-telling of an impending death.

Wanting to see if maybe the sound was caused by an approaching storm, she
dressed quickly and slipped out the front door. As the door opened there was
the faint "beeping" sound of the security system, signaling that a door had
been opened. She hoped that noone would hear it.

Standing outside on the concrete porch she scanned the horizon and saw
nothing except a few stars that had managed to shine through the usual
nightly noxious clouds that poured into the night sky from surrounding
factories and oil refineries. From what she could perceive, there was nothing
out of the ordinary, EXCEPT that no tree branches swayed as the wind wailed
through them. Now that she was outside, the sound was slightly different. The
moaning now sounded almost more like a voice calling. It was nothing that
could be distinctly made out - but somehow she felt as if it were calling
her, beaconing her to follow it, wherever it lead.

"Man, I've REALLY flipped now", she thought aloud. Yet the mesmerising wail
continued and started her on her journey.

Tentatively she walked down the porch steps and started strolling through the
desolate streets of the decaying city she called 'home'. Few people, except
for those LOOKING for trouble would dare walk these streets at night, much
less alone. Gangs controlled the area, drug houses were in abundance and
shootings were a nightly event.

"So I get shot and killed", she mused, "it'd be better than living with this
stupid illness...."

As she continued walking, she thought back to the days before she became
sick, and how she had worked these same streets as an 'on-call' EMT, and
later in life, as a photojournalist. Both were night jobs, but she LOVED the
night - always had. Being alone at night never scared her. In fact she wildly
embraced the darkness and all of its seductive secrets.

Now, about a mile from home, and having passed countless burnt-out houses and
derilect, stripped-down cars, she came upon a still open club. It was in the
location that once housed a night-club called the 'Blue Max'. But it was now
no longer the 'Blue Max' - the canopy over the front door had a picture of a
Raven painted on it.

Stopping alongside the curb she stared at the canopy for several minutes. It
looked just like the one from the club called 'The Raven', which was a club
from her favourite T.V. show 'Forever Knight'. After several minutes of
staring at the stark black painting on the canopy depicting a raven in
flight, she made the decision to take a chance and look inside. Actually it
wasn't much of a choice, due to the fact that the music that filtered through
the doors acted like a magnet, drawing her inwards, through the doors and
inside the club itself.

Once inside, she felt as if she had stepped out of reality and into a scene
straight off of the screen from her T.V.. EVERYTHING looked just like it did
on the show ! Chains hung from the ceiling, the music was semi-punk and the
decor was a perfect reproduction of 'The Raven', complete to the dark corners
and the unmistakable colour-sceme. Or WAS it a reproduction ?

"I've got to be still dreaming, like sleep-walking", she thought as she
walked amongst the ever-moving crowd on the dance floor. Yet, deep inside she
KNEW that she was wide awake - that this WAS real. But how could it be real ?
It was just a T.V. show after all - wasn't it ?

While crossing the crowded dance-floor, she had to dodge spinning and bobbing
bodies that were gyrating to the loud music. Some of the people were dressed
very punk; black leather clothing, adorned with chains and studs. She smiled,
remembering that it wasn't all that long ago that she too had once dressed
the same way. But that now seemed a whole different life-time ago.

She stopped just short of the long wooden bar, grabbed onto a bunch of chains
that hung from the ceiling, and looked around trying to get her bearings and
re-oriented. It was then that she noticed the beautiful well-dressed woman
standing close-up against the bar. The woman's dark, up-swept hair was held
in place with what seemed to be real diamond hair pins. Her satin gown was
quite exquisite.  The upper part of her low-cut, long black dress clung to
her lithe body, and the skirt portion of it flowed and swayed with every
movement of her graceful body.

With a seemingly slow, deliberate pace, the ethereal lady turned and focused
on the stranger with a mesmerising stare. Both of the woman's pale as
alabaster arms were covered with long, black lace  gloves. One hand gently
held a crystal glass of what looked like ruby-red wine. A shimmering diamond
necklace graced her slender, ballerina-type neck, and a pair of matching
diamond earrings were beautifully offset by her full wavy dark hair. What she
wore was grand, but no matter how much the jewelry sparkled and gleamed, it
could not match or out-do the bright intensity of her large eyes.

"My god", the stranger thought, "she looks JUST LIKE Janette!"

Still feeling disoriented, she glanced around the room and noticed two people
seated at the end of the bar holding a very animated discussion, and laughing
at exchanged remarks. What shocked her was that the two people looked like
Captain Cohen and Detective Schanke !

"What are THEY doing here ? This has GOT to be a dream !" She tried to
reassure herself that this was a dream caused by reading so much 'Forever
Knight' fiction and by communicating via computer with the 'Forever Knight'
information board on one of the computer on-line services. "That's it - too
much time spent on the computer - got to stay off a while. This is a
fever-dream caused by being over-tired, that's all it is...", she whispered
lowly to herself.

Just as she had almost convinced herself that all of this WASN'T real, the
woman at the bar shot her a direct 'Come here NOW' commanding glance. As one
gloved hand slightly motioned towards her, the stranger felt herself obeying
the unspoken command without thought or hesitation. She stopped in front of
the outstretched hand, and for what seemed several elongated seconds, the two
women stared intensely at each other.

Finally, with a soft French accent, the mysterious woman spoke in a
half-whisper, "So, you heard us calling and decided to come after all. I
wasn't so sure that you would listen, much less obey - after all, not every
one does." She paused and took a sip of the blood-red drink that she'd been
holding all of this time.

"Who are you ?", the stranger asked meekly.

"Oh, my dear child, you surprise me ! You very much know WHO I am !! You've
watched me, well, us, sooo many times. Oh - and ALL those reruns, and over
and over on your - what's it called - oh, video tape machine. You're almost
as bad as my dear Nicholas when he was spending all his nights, and wasting
ours, watching that ballet dancer. LaCroix and I could barely stand it any
longer."

Her speech pattern was not only that of one who was of a 'higher-class', but
also that of one who had been bored by many things and hated stupidity.

The woman/Janette continued, " It's a strange way to spend your time - even
when it is NOT an eternal life."  She smiled mischieviously at the now
somewhat shaken stranger in front of her.

"Well, drinks are 'on the house' tonight. Afterall, we must not mourn, not in
the 'mortal sense anyway. Nicholas is the one who mourns enough for all of us
- he's very, very good at that. Besides, look over there", she waved her hand
in the direction of the end of the bar, "Nicholas' Captain and partner are
talking and joking, not arguing so much as they used to do before. You see,
 we're all, as you say it, 'all in the same boat', no ?"

There was quite a pause as Janette refreshed her drink, and just then the
stranger found her voice - though it sounded half-strangled and bewildered.
"You can't be Janette - but you ARE !  And how can that be Schanke and
Captain Cohen ?  And where is Nick and LaCroix ?". She paused, took a deep
breath and fairly shouted, "I don't understand ANY of this !!!".

Reaching towards the bar again, Janette picked up another glass and handed it
to the stranger, and in an almost scolding tone told her, " You ask too many
questions too soon and too fast. You must wait awhile before I can answer
your questions."  She turned away from the bar and sternly warned, "Follow
me, but go nowhere else !  We'll find a quieter place to talk."

With that warning, Janetter started away from the bar, with the stranger
following closely behind her, like a peasant following a princess. As they
walked across the cavernous room, the crowd seemed to magically part,
allowing Janette to walk freely and without disruption. Soon they came to a
closed wooden door that sported a carved wooden mystical figure on it.
Janette put an ancient-looking key into the lock and turned the knob, opening
to door to her secret hiding place.


Janette led the way into the secret back room. Once they were both in it, she
quickly closed the door, and with movements so fast, that they were went
unseen, she turned the large iron key in the old lock. A loud reverberation
rattled throughout the room.

Candles, set in ancient silver and pewter candelabra, were the only source of
light in the room.  The flickering of the candles and the smell of the
beeswax eminating from them created an aura of a by-gone era, possibly an era
in which Janette found comfort. After all, the world had changed so
drastically from the time period in which she had been 'brought across', and
EVERYONE, including vampires, felt the need to return to the comfort and
familiarity of the time-period in which they had spent their youth.

In the candles' warm glow the stranger was easily able to see the room and
it's furnishings. Years of work in the blackness of a photographic dark-room
enabled her eyes to see much better in darkness than in the harshness of
daylight or bright lighting. It was this quirk that caused her friends to
playfully tease her and call her a 'vampire'.  She quickly scanned the room
and noted that it was decorated in accordance with the Late-Medieval period.
The walls were covered with original paintings done by long-dead, now-famous
artists. Heavy tapestries, framed by crimson-coloured velvet draperies,
helped block out already shaded windows. She had never seen such beauty,
except in books of Medieval and early-Renaissance history and in Museums.
 Everywhere she looked there were antiquities and artifacts dating back
hundreds and hundreds of years. The whole experience was overwhelming, and
suddenly feeling weak, she unceremoniously plopped onto a carved wooden
chair.

Janette watched and matter-of-factly stated, "Careful, that chair once
belonged to Henry the Eighth .  It was a gift from Nicholas". As Janette
demurely sat down on an antique chair, she explained, "This is where I come
when the crowd gets too noisy or 'your world' becomes too burdensome." She
paused as she lit a cigarette and slowly exhaled a stream of bluish-grey
smoke. In the flash of the flame, as she lit the cigarette, her skin took on
an unearthly pale, almost translucent pallor. Her full red lips were a stark
contrast to her fair, alabaster-toned face. The contrast was both startling
and entrancing.

"Oh, how rude of me - I should have asked you first if you mind that I smoke.
These new rules of etiquette - it  becomes very tiresome to keep track of
them all. But I can tell  anyway by the smell of your clothing that you  and
I share the same filthy habit. However, it CAN kill YOU.  I don't have to
worry about such  things." At this comment Janette gave the stranger a
slightly sly smile - actually a rather playful smile. Janette briefly waited,
but no comment came, so she continued, "So, tell me, why do you 'mortals'
engage in habits that only succeed in shortening your already pitifully short
lives?" Her tone now had an edge of deridement in it.

 "Vampires are quick-change artists mood-wise", the stranger thought to
herself, hoping that Janette could not pick up on her thoughts. Knowing that
she had to break her silence soon, she mumbled a meek response, "Maybe to
escape the pain of living."

"Poor excuse, but at least I finally got you to talk" Janette spoke
triumphantly. Then her tone again  changed completely. "You came here tonight
because you NEED us. Not all of you that we call out to come - but YOU did.
There must be a reason, no?" She exhaled again, then leaned back in her chair
as if she were about to listen to a tale of some sort.

"So, tell me about yourself and your fascination with 'our world'. WHY was it
so important to you  to come here tonight that you risked your life walking
the streets at night, when there are sooo many dangers out there...., and..."
she paused and sipped her red 'wine' and continued,  " and NOW  you risk
your life being in a room with me when you very well KNOW what I could do to
you !" With that last comment, Janette dipped her right fore-finger into her
drink and slowly, relishing the smell and the taste of her 'drink', licked
the thick 'wine' from her finger. Her eyes gained a slightly predatory look
to them.

Alternating between feeling humble, like a peasant in front of nobility, and
fearful, like a school girl in front of an angry principal, the stranger
answered softly, "It's a waste of your time to explain, and you'll probably
only get mad anyway.....".

Janette gave a wry smile, "A few minutes of my eternal life is not so much to
give. Come now, tell me, or would you rather leave here, hmmmmm ?"

Not knowing what Janette meant, but KNOWING that she didn't want to leave,
the stranger finally stammered, softly at first, "Ah, ok, ....when I was
young I felt 'indestructable', so I led my life at a fast pace - trying to
outrun time I guess." She paused, took a deep breath and her voice rose in
intensity, and the words flowed out like a dam finally giving way. "I didn't
WANT to grow up, or to become OLD, or worse yet, to become like those around
me who grew old and greedy as soon as they got jobs. THEY grew OLD before
their time. I DID NOT WANT THAT !!! So I tried to beat it, but it beat me
instead. LIFE has beaten me and I don't know WHAT to do about it !!!".

Janette just nodded at the explosion of words. She drained her glass and
fixed her gaze intensly on the stranger, "Continue - you KNOW though that you
cannot lie to us - but I doubt that you will anyway...".  She shifted her
position slightly and the satin gown rustled delicately.

"There's really not much more, my life is simple, but yet complex - isn't
everybody's life that way ?" The stranger looked at Janette with pleading
eyes, yet knew she'd not get an answer, so she spoke on, quietly and less
earnestly now. "But then things changed quickly and drastically. I got sick
and there's no cure. Now I'm home alone all the time and can't escape this
disease any more than you can escape being a vampire."

Janette's eyes flashed at that last statement, but she knew that the stranger
hadn't meant it the way it had sounded. NOONE would be THAT stupid.

Realizing her poor choice of words she was almost afraid to finish what she
had to say. But the stranger meekly added, "Plus, I ALWAYS have believed that
there is more in this world than what can be seen with the eye or heard with
the ears...there's more, I KNOW there's more, there HAS to be more !" The
last part sounded like the last vestiges of hope from someone who was just
about out of hope. Someone who's life had become nothing but filled with
emptiness, and that soon the  emptiness was to be filled with despair.

Janette's expression had changed little during the barrage of words that
seemed to float around the room like burning cinders from a flaming log. She
knew that the words had come straight from whatever soul, or vestiges of one,
the stranger possessed.She snuffed out her cigarette and rested one arm
casually on the table next to her. Was it the glow from the candles nearby or
an inner glow that caused Janette's eyes to gleam hungrily.

"Guess I'm about to become a mid-night snack or early breakfast - or would it
be their dinner ?", the stranger mused, trying to remain calm. But Janette
had no intentions of making a meal of her. Instead she leaned forward
slightly and spoke distinctly, saying each word as if it were a separate
sentance of its own. "You forgot one thing... you LOVE 'our world' and US, or
you would not have come in the first place. And surely by now, you would have
tried to leave, no ?"  She sat back and lit another cigarette, careful to
stay far from the flame of the match that lit it. She then continued, "You,
all of you who come here, admire our regal and aristocratic ways. You long
for the same abilities to change the 'rules' of the so-called 'natural
world'. What you don't understand is that we change them to suit our needs
for SURVIVAL, not just to humour ourselves. So many of you come here looking
for what we ARE, and hoping that some of it might, let's say, 'rub off' onto
you. I  SHOULD know, after having spoken to so many of you recently....", her
words trailed off and she seemed weary with burden suddenly.

Jeanette sat back for a few minutes, and then suddenly rejuvenated, stood up
and proclaimed,
"Excuse me a moment, I NEED to get another drink and check the club. I WILL
be back." It sounded more like a warning instead of just a passing of
information. Just as Janette arose and started away from her chair there was
a rattling of the key in the lock - from the OUTSIDE ! Jeanette didn't say a
word or even look surprised as Nick abuptly entered the room. He acted like a
'man' who had a lot on his mind and a singular cause which he HAD to settle.
His entire personea seemed troubled, his disheveled, wavy, golden hair gave
this away, along with his countenance. His eyes glowed with anger and his
lips were set tightly together. His motions, which were usually loose and
fluid, were very tense and abrupt. He strode over to the far wall, and with
arms outstretched, he placed his palms on either side of a portrait of
Janette. His long black coat swayed gently. As he moved, the flames of the
candles swayed in unison with him. As he bowed his head, his thick hair fell
slightly forward. He looked like a 'man'  in mourning and pain.

The stranger's eyes were now wide open and her mouth formed the beginnings of
a soundless word. The aura of Nicholas Knight was strong, capable of
transfixing even the strongest willed person. She looked at Jeanette who was
stood staring longingly at Nicholas.

Janette murmered, "He can't see us nor hear us now. We are in what your
Science Fiction writers might call 'The Fourth Dimension' ". Janette then
seemed to withdraw into herself. She stood perfectly still, her face softened
and she seemed to let down her impenetrable guard. Right now, her precious
Nicholas was all that she saw, and oh, how she longed to touch him, to feel
his lips against hers once again. A singular blood-stained tear streaked down
Jeanette's beautiful face. Her eyes were filled with longing - the kind
caused by unrequited love.

The stranger quietly watched the scenerio as if it were a romantic and
bittersweet play. She knew that she had no part in this scene. But the love
between Nicholas and Jeanette was palpable, and being no stranger to
unrequited love herself, she ached deeply in empathy for them. Tears filled
her eyes despite herself and her commitment to stoicism.

It seemed like hours, but she knew it couldn't be. The stranger was glad that
Janette was the first to move, since she didn't want to be the one to disturb
the emotional scenerio. Jeanette walked to the door, and just as she was
about to leave, the stranger asked, "What IS the 'Fourth Dimension', and how
did I get into it, and, ah, will I get out of it ?"

The spell having been already broken and Jeanette back to her 'old self ',
replied tersely, "Oh, this is getting SOOO tiresome. But if you all keep
coming, I shall keep explaining, I suppose." With a swish of her gown she was
gone, closing the door behind her.

Now it was only Nick and the stranger in the room, and he showed no signs of
acknowledgement of her presence. She stood very still, barely breathing. She
longed to talk to him, but dared not utter a sound. Besides, Jeanette had
said that he didn't know that they were in the room. "This is really odd -
REALLY", she thought to herself, more than slightly confused by what Jeanette
had said.

Meanwhile Nick raised his head and looked at the portrait as if he were about
to stare a hole through it, or that he was trying to make it a part of his
very 'being'. It was a portrait of a 'modern' Jeanette. The style of framing
and painting, gave away that the portrait was fairly recently mastered. The
time was relatively short since Nick's arrival, yet time seemed to have
halted, or at least taken a break. With movements quicker than she could see,
he slammed his palms against the wall, creating two holes in what was solid
wood ! His emotional angst radiated throughout the room and enveloped all
that was in it.

Then, with almost imperceptable movements,  Nick turned from the wall and
seemingly 'flew' out of the room, his coat caused a swooshing of air so
strong that a few candles sputtered out and the heavy curtains stirred. There
was nothing left of his former presence except for two palm-shaped holes in
the wall.

As he left, the stranger could have sworn that he had whispered, "It didn't
have to end this way my dear Jeanette. We were deceived. Jeanette, I'm sorry,
and I need you.".

He DID, however, inadvertently, leave part of himself and his visit behind.
The stranger had noticed 'blood-sweat' upon his brow. As he had quickly
turned his head, snapping it around to take a last look at the portrait of
Jeanette, some of it had splashed onto her clothing. Small dark speckles
appeared on her shirt and the pristine table cloth.

<>>><>><><><>><>><><>><><><><><><>< end part 2