THE DEATH OF AN IMMORTAL BEING vel thora
ÂŠ vel thora, 2008 ÂŠ spheres :: a world behind curtains, 2011 sfere.ro
the death of an immortal being
empty... and then there she was, lingering her frailty about, in the cold. there it was, the single light in a dark night. thoughts rush in and out, but the only escape is through their dreams. after all, it rests in silence, corpse of reason, shadow on chalk. how he approached her, how he stole her will was as insignificant as a beetle under a shoe.
the fact remained that existence started to dissociate that very night, that single moment inside the void of his eyes. neither his white hands, nor the whisper of his freezing breath could touch the fire that was burning inside her, day after day, night after night, hours and hours alike... as she spread her wings wide open. a deep voice was heard, sin contemplated her face and light was lost once more.
incisions into her souls, betrayal of her hopes, lost light, gained senses, all removed bit by bit the memories of solitude. not alone anymore, she found comfort in what he didnâ€™t yet know. one day, morning came and maybe she really was awake: not only that the floor was cold, but she had already lost all sight and feeling in her fingers.
counting seconds. drinking seconds. no more seconds. donâ€™t forget to turn off the light. when she finally woke up, her fingers still hurt, like she had been scratching all night on an invisible door. the room was the same, only this time there was a door and it was wide open... and she could smell the morning air coming through the darken corridor ahead.
no man could ever imagine those tiny dusty moments that passed between realizing reality and escaping from it. the truth was still too far away to touch, but reverie embraced his soul, suffocating his tears, evaporating them even before they reached the cold evening air...
but her face, her face was gently lit by the street light and her essence rushed through his thirsty veins. nor dead, nor alive she watched her other self on the ground, as she had before... when talking to herself. he stood up and left, unknowingly leaving behind a monster of the worst kind.
neither the cold morning air, nor the steaming coffee in his hand could prepare him for the events that were about to singe into that dayâ€™s perverted memory. he stood there, eyes wide open in the freezing wind, waiting, as she crept behind, now more alive than ever, more dead than even death itself.
waking up was never harder. faded memories and scratches of the night that had passed inconspicuously through his pain kept torturing his ears. she stood there, in a dark corner, still holding the chain around his neck. she smiled and that was the last thing he saw... that day, anyway. no, it couldnâ€™t be her anymore.
digging through his illusions, he remembered, he now knew what he had done, ages ago, before the pain. »stop waiting for the morning, little boy« she said, her black eye turning red and her red eye turning white. maybe it’s a dream and he’ll wake up. but no one ever told him that monsters do exist, nor had he ever looked into an unbroken mirror himself.
whenever she touched him, it felt like acid rain on his brain. the shape of the room, collapsing in on itself, his faded being, his lost senses... were all entangled in a drop of consciousness when he saw her, the other one, in a dark corner, avidly absorbing his new found mortality, as he once did hers.
a second more and he would have seen her stillness, would have smelled her flesh feeding the cold floor. but acid rain came again and again it was night. he already knew what that meant. giving up was never more satisfying, not even the tiny meaningless words that came out of his mouth. i loved your taste.
spheres :: a world behind curtains 2011