Dark Paradise

All my friends tell me I should move on
I'm lying in the ocean singing your song
That's how you sing it

Loving you forever can't be wrong
Even though you're not here, wont move on
That's how we played it

And theres no remedy for memory
Your face is like a melody
It won't leave my head
Your soul is haunting me and telling that everything is fine
But I wish i was dead

Every time I close my eyes
It's like a dark paradise
No one compares to you
I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

All my friends ask me why I stay strong
Tell em when you find true love it lives on
Thats why I stay here

And theres no remedy for memory
Your face is like a melody
It won't leave my head
Your soul is haunting me and telling that everything is fine
But I wish i was dead

Every time I close my eyes
It's like a dark paradise
No one compares to you
I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side
Every time I close my eyes
It's like a dark paradise
No one compares to you
But there's no you except in my dreams tonight

I stared intently up at my former home. Next to it was a smaller and more modern post 1960s edition. My ears perked up at the sound of an old southern woman cooing an infant. Tears sprung in my eyes, my heart was swelling up beneath my chest, my legs were shaking and I wrapped my arms around myself. It's been one year, it's September 4, 1995. It was warm this night in Los Angeles. I ignored the stares I was getting from the curious tourists on the bus who were here for the murder house, my former house. I walked bare foot to the 1960s house where the elder southern woman hummed. Without knocking without even touching the doorknob, I just walked through the door like it wasn't even there. I took in the distasteful yellow and green décor in the hallway, I listened to the cooing of the southern woman and closed my eyes and in less than a millisecond I was in a nursery. It was a pastel pink with a princess décor fit for baby, the room was large an looked fit for a royal baby. Well she really did go all out.

I heard a gasp that sounded like someone had seen a ghost. I giggled. Not quite. My breath was immediately taken away from the sight that had astounded me,

Constance Langdon, the retired and rejected wannabe Bette Davis held an expression that would outdo any ghost or ghoul, it was paler than death and more animated than life, but I ignore her look of astonishment and disbelief and let my eyes fall on the bundle of pure heaven in her arms. I let tears fall down my face at a non stop pace. My heart was completely swollen and reuniting joy was bubbling in my throat.

The baby was nearly a year old, she was tiny and delicate like a flower. Her skin was the color of smooth buttermilk and looked softer than any cloud that hung in the sky. Her lips were sweet and doll-like with a floral pink shade, her cheeks were sweet and cherub with an idealistic button nose, she had large almond shape dark midsummer night eyes with long and dark eyelashes, on top of her head was angelic blonde curls, and she was dressed in a little sailor girl dress with stockings and Sunday shoes with a navy ribbon in her hair. She was absolutely precious. Her face was completely readable with an agape mouth and eyes of all knowing.

She cooed, babbled, and squealed reaching her stubby arms outstretched toward me. Just as I suspected, she was a smart little one.

"H-how w-what-" My eyes flickered to Constance who looked like a babbling fool.

I giggled.

"I couldn't be killed off that easily, not with her still here needing proper love and upbringing."

Constance looked insulted but it was overpowered with her shocked state.

"Give her over to me."

I went over and took the child myself, into my arms cradling her and kissing her non stop with tears falling and joy growing more intense. The little baby giggled uncontrollably in my arms and spoke to me babbling.

"Where is he?"

Constance still shocked gulped.

"H-he's next door."

"In the murder house?" I asked bringing the cherub child closer to my chest.

Why is he next door and not here with-

I gasped finally putting everything together.

"He's dead?" Tears threatened to fall for different reasons.

"He's like the others now."

As am I, just not exactly...

It's better to have him than not all.


Constance left the room but came back in with the newspaper from a year ago reading 'Westfield High Massacre'. I read the article with tears, and the date it happened just after-

"He lost it when you-"

"Has he seen her?"

"I bring her over now and again, he seems almost human when she's there but he's never been the same ever since you-"

"I see."

There was silence except for the giggling of the darling cherub in my arms. I smiled at her.

"I think he's in need of a visitor."

In a second I was inside of the murder house, no one has seemed to be living here at the moment which was good. I couldn't stand it I had to see him.

But I have no idea where he could be in this house. So I would call him the only way I knew how. I began to sing our song;

"Come as you are as you were as you want me to be-"

A new voice, a familiar voice joined in;

"As a friend as a friend as an old memoria, memoria."

That feeling that feeling of incompressible happiness if I can only begin how I feel right now, I would be going on for centuries at the least! Is it him? Can it truly be him?

I was crying again.

I turned around to the staircase where I had heard such a voice but found no one, when I turned around again there he was standing in front of me with his onyx eyes red and swollen raining with tears like mine were.

He tried to speak tried to utter and ask me how is this even possible but he was choked on tears. I cried and smashed my lips against his. Oh I miss how soft and tender they were. He responded finally with his familiar dominant aggression. He bit my lip just like before and his tongue was going down my throat trying to taste all of me, but we were interrupted by the pushing of a little baby girl in my arms between the two of us. We looked down at her laughing eyes and laughed ourselves through our tears we looked at one another and laughed harder and louder.

He opened his mouth to ask how as he ran his hands through my hair and caressed my arms.

"I know, I'm supposed to be dead."


"Remember when I was questioning religion, reading about all different theories with angels, remember that article with demoted angels? They died but couldn't go to hell and couldn't go to heaven so they were caught in between and became quote on quote "fairies"?"

He nodded beginning to understand.

"Tate, I'm not done here on Earth I left my daughter and obviously I was not suppose to, now we can be together now we can be a family."

His lips touched mine again with short, intense,and quick lick kiss.


"Will have to deal with the Undead parents of Fawn Avery Langdon."

He grinned.

"Isn't she beautiful?" His eyes flickered to our daughter.

I laughed.

"Perfect, she's going to do great things."

Tate grabbed my hand taking my smaller one into his and kissed my cheek before using his other hand to rub Fawn's soft head.

"My Audrey, you're here you came back, you're mine once again."

I kissed his hand and tenderly looked into his eyes.

"My sweet Tate, I was always yours for all of eternity and ever."

He quickly kissed me once again.

"This is just the beginning." I whispered.

"Now we can be." He replied in the same hush tone.


So that was the actual end please read the sequel to continue Taudrey and with their daughter Fawn, My American Horror Story willl be completely different with different plots. Please read