A Tragic Tale of Lovers
Licia
The hall was empty. A ridiculous silence was plastered to the walls creating an isolated valley of conclusion. I pressed my ear against the door. Not a sound. The inside of the cubby-hole was narrow, much like the hallway leading to the classroom. It was full of things with shadows that rested on my body. My arms were striped from the shadows of the brooms in one corner and my face half-blackened from the spare door leaning to the opposite wall. I had been wondering about that door; where it once led, where it once could take me. The things so important that they needed the protecting guard of this rotten door. Once it led somewhere great, to new opportunities, to a host of something I could be in need of. It once had an admirable job, it once held inside what needed to be held and kept out the non-belonging. How I wished for a door to my heart.
Licia had been staring at me for quite some time when Mrs Pavlona eventually discovered my lack of interest. That beast screamed at and mocked me with words I have too long ago oppressed to recite. After three blows on my tender fingers with her trusty pointer she had the janitor grab me with his gigantic fists and throw me in this damned hole of a closet. And she just stared, unknowing or uncaring of my awareness. It was the window that had caught my careless attention. Immoveable eyes I fixated on the panes much like today. But that day my sky shone and smiled at me. I was careful, more than ever, not look at her. When she watched me, she knew me and I escaped my emotions again. I needn't be turned inside-out for her curiosity. So I looked out the window with an unbothed face. And this is where it brought me.
Once again, I leaned my face to the cold surface of the door. Not a word was spoken, not a step was heard. I reckoned, foolishly, that they all gone. When standing up on my stiff knees, leaning my weight on them as I pressed the handle down, they hurt badly. I could not possibly stand on them for more than a second and when it was gone I fell. The door flung open and I landed, belly-flopped, on the floor outside. But the hallway was not empty. There she sat, legs crossed with her flowing maroon skirt spread like a flower around her. She had a bunch of papers, resting on an open book, in her knee. Her hands, which a second earlier had been playing across the paper with a pencil, landed flat on the picture in front of her. Her eyes found mine as I crawled up slowly from my vulnerable position, rubbing my tender knees. A smile tickled her thin lips and small wrinkles formed in her forehead. I stood up, closed the door and walked away. How ashamed I was. Why, why ever, was she sitting outside the closet? Why ever did she wait for me? I reached the top of the stairway. The depth in shadow below my feet was just about to grab me by my ankles and drag me down towards the cold winter outside, as the angel spoke. That shameless, clueless beautiful angel opened her mouth and gave me five words, five words just for me.
- What is wrong with you?
To anyone else they might seem insulting, but the chilly depth below me allowed me to fear for a second, stay for a second, in serenity and muteness. But it scared me not more than her angelic voice that lingered. I took a step down the stairs, and I heard her move up from her seat opposite the cubby-hole. The dark tongues licked my feet as her steps became louder behind my back. I took another step and felt the heavy breathing of the darkness on my bare calves. She was right behind my as I took the third and forth step at once. The shadows grabbed a hold of the hollows of my knees and tugged on my still aching kneecaps. Her hand was placed on my shoulder, warm and soft. My hair moved and my dress fell in creases, so I know the hand was real. It made me turn with a firm twist.
Her face. Her lips. Her eyes. Her nose. They were all there, framed in her hair. It was long and almost curly. It lay perfectly atop her chest, bulging. Those lips parted.
- Why do you let them do the things they do?
We both knew what she was talking about. You know what she was talking about. I touched my scruffy, shortened hair. I thought she didn't notice, but she immediately responded with a nod.
- Yes, she whispered impulsively. Your hair.
I licked my lips, buying myself some time. The dark was getting impatient, clawing my knees, putting its great claws into the skin. I bit my lip to keep from screaming of pain. My grip of the rail was slipping. Once again, she noticed, and her beautiful, caring eyes, naturally started to search for the source of pain on my body. I felt so dirty, her eyes all over me. I closed mine, and bit my lip harder. I couldn't hold back much longer. My feet strived for the exit at the bottom of the stairs. I took a step backwards. The shadows now embraced the bottom of my skirt, ate it and chewed on it. Lucia’s hand drifted off my shoulder and I opened my eyes. She looked at me, at a loss, her hands hanging helplessly along her sides. Her eyes were now franticly searching around me, above me, below me, to find whatever troubled me, like it was something she could see; so innocent. The burning feel of darkness' body around my thighs. Will it stop punishing me if I give in? Will I live to die if I die to live? I took another step backwards. From here I could see her entire body and the fright in her eyes. They asked me no longer what was wrong or why I let them, but why I was wrong. Why was I scaring her? I could no longer keep from screaming. The pain was too great. I clenched my lips together, but it came through. My eyes twitched, so did hers. She looked like a scared rabbit, about to run away. The shadow had swallowed my skirt. It was everywhere, touching everything. And the pain only grew. My grip around the railing was sweaty and stiff. Every inch of my below my waist ached, moaned and burned. It hurt me, it hurt, it hurt. So I grabbed the railing with both hands and got ready. I jumped to my death.
It was an embrace of fright. That was the moment when I gave in. That was the moment when everything caved in, my self-control along with it. I have never been a strong person, never been a support or capable of handling myself on my own. But up to that point there has always been a part of me trying, a part of me still striving to be aware that I was nothing. But when that darkness ate me, when she cared about me with her frightened eyes I couldn't take it anymore. I will always remember that day, because I have only a few hours left. A hurt pride is awakening under my skin and the memories are becoming vivid and alive again. I will be fourteen forever, be young and in love, be naive. I haven't once doubted about telling you my story until now. My pen constantly freezes its flowing movements, and though I try, it ceases to allow simple lines and dots forming a chain of emotion, tears, sadness and pain. Even my hands are betraying my mind now. I can feel the string around my wings loosen, now. But my wings press against my back. Do they refuse me? Do they refuse my last sane request, my death? The sky is darker. The invisible sun is slowly treading down my sky. A darker grey presses against the panes of the evil window now. They are saying goodbye. Silent raindrops are tumbling down the flat surface. I wish she wouldn't cry for me until I was dead, until I had no mind to pity her for it.
Licia had been staring at me for quite some time when Mrs Pavlona eventually discovered my lack of interest. That beast screamed at and mocked me with words I have too long ago oppressed to recite. After three blows on my tender fingers with her trusty pointer she had the janitor grab me with his gigantic fists and throw me in this damned hole of a closet. And she just stared, unknowing or uncaring of my awareness. It was the window that had caught my careless attention. Immoveable eyes I fixated on the panes much like today. But that day my sky shone and smiled at me. I was careful, more than ever, not look at her. When she watched me, she knew me and I escaped my emotions again. I needn't be turned inside-out for her curiosity. So I looked out the window with an unbothed face. And this is where it brought me.
Once again, I leaned my face to the cold surface of the door. Not a word was spoken, not a step was heard. I reckoned, foolishly, that they all gone. When standing up on my stiff knees, leaning my weight on them as I pressed the handle down, they hurt badly. I could not possibly stand on them for more than a second and when it was gone I fell. The door flung open and I landed, belly-flopped, on the floor outside. But the hallway was not empty. There she sat, legs crossed with her flowing maroon skirt spread like a flower around her. She had a bunch of papers, resting on an open book, in her knee. Her hands, which a second earlier had been playing across the paper with a pencil, landed flat on the picture in front of her. Her eyes found mine as I crawled up slowly from my vulnerable position, rubbing my tender knees. A smile tickled her thin lips and small wrinkles formed in her forehead. I stood up, closed the door and walked away. How ashamed I was. Why, why ever, was she sitting outside the closet? Why ever did she wait for me? I reached the top of the stairway. The depth in shadow below my feet was just about to grab me by my ankles and drag me down towards the cold winter outside, as the angel spoke. That shameless, clueless beautiful angel opened her mouth and gave me five words, five words just for me.
- What is wrong with you?
To anyone else they might seem insulting, but the chilly depth below me allowed me to fear for a second, stay for a second, in serenity and muteness. But it scared me not more than her angelic voice that lingered. I took a step down the stairs, and I heard her move up from her seat opposite the cubby-hole. The dark tongues licked my feet as her steps became louder behind my back. I took another step and felt the heavy breathing of the darkness on my bare calves. She was right behind my as I took the third and forth step at once. The shadows grabbed a hold of the hollows of my knees and tugged on my still aching kneecaps. Her hand was placed on my shoulder, warm and soft. My hair moved and my dress fell in creases, so I know the hand was real. It made me turn with a firm twist.
Her face. Her lips. Her eyes. Her nose. They were all there, framed in her hair. It was long and almost curly. It lay perfectly atop her chest, bulging. Those lips parted.
- Why do you let them do the things they do?
We both knew what she was talking about. You know what she was talking about. I touched my scruffy, shortened hair. I thought she didn't notice, but she immediately responded with a nod.
- Yes, she whispered impulsively. Your hair.
I licked my lips, buying myself some time. The dark was getting impatient, clawing my knees, putting its great claws into the skin. I bit my lip to keep from screaming of pain. My grip of the rail was slipping. Once again, she noticed, and her beautiful, caring eyes, naturally started to search for the source of pain on my body. I felt so dirty, her eyes all over me. I closed mine, and bit my lip harder. I couldn't hold back much longer. My feet strived for the exit at the bottom of the stairs. I took a step backwards. The shadows now embraced the bottom of my skirt, ate it and chewed on it. Lucia’s hand drifted off my shoulder and I opened my eyes. She looked at me, at a loss, her hands hanging helplessly along her sides. Her eyes were now franticly searching around me, above me, below me, to find whatever troubled me, like it was something she could see; so innocent. The burning feel of darkness' body around my thighs. Will it stop punishing me if I give in? Will I live to die if I die to live? I took another step backwards. From here I could see her entire body and the fright in her eyes. They asked me no longer what was wrong or why I let them, but why I was wrong. Why was I scaring her? I could no longer keep from screaming. The pain was too great. I clenched my lips together, but it came through. My eyes twitched, so did hers. She looked like a scared rabbit, about to run away. The shadow had swallowed my skirt. It was everywhere, touching everything. And the pain only grew. My grip around the railing was sweaty and stiff. Every inch of my below my waist ached, moaned and burned. It hurt me, it hurt, it hurt. So I grabbed the railing with both hands and got ready. I jumped to my death.
It was an embrace of fright. That was the moment when I gave in. That was the moment when everything caved in, my self-control along with it. I have never been a strong person, never been a support or capable of handling myself on my own. But up to that point there has always been a part of me trying, a part of me still striving to be aware that I was nothing. But when that darkness ate me, when she cared about me with her frightened eyes I couldn't take it anymore. I will always remember that day, because I have only a few hours left. A hurt pride is awakening under my skin and the memories are becoming vivid and alive again. I will be fourteen forever, be young and in love, be naive. I haven't once doubted about telling you my story until now. My pen constantly freezes its flowing movements, and though I try, it ceases to allow simple lines and dots forming a chain of emotion, tears, sadness and pain. Even my hands are betraying my mind now. I can feel the string around my wings loosen, now. But my wings press against my back. Do they refuse me? Do they refuse my last sane request, my death? The sky is darker. The invisible sun is slowly treading down my sky. A darker grey presses against the panes of the evil window now. They are saying goodbye. Silent raindrops are tumbling down the flat surface. I wish she wouldn't cry for me until I was dead, until I had no mind to pity her for it.