It’s nighttime, and I’m still at the office. A package is waiting for me that I haven’t opened yet. I know she sent it as revenge years later. The particular scent it smelled alerted me, which gave birth to familiar music in my mind. I’m waiting to finish my work before viewing the content. I know the time has come.
I opened it in silence, like a ritual. Inside the dark interior lay a black rose.
Black, like her eyes. I remember the black roses, the ones that adorned her neck. Those eyes pierced my thoughts. I loved them. They hypnotized me, making me believe. I recall when my heart turned to stone, and I cut our dreams in half. That’s when I left her. That’s when I hurt her.
She takes revenge, yes. She gave me her soul, she knows. I insulted her, and now she’s insulting mine. I remember her hug that lulled me to sleep, and I remember her slaps that used to wake me up. Yes, that creature loved me.
Now, it curses me. She knows the way. She had mentioned it to me. Witch. Yes, I remember her eyes, the ones that slaughtered me when I uttered the last words.
I remember, as if days, weeks, months, and years had not passed. As if she didn’t forget, as if I didn’t forget. Like yesterday, she came. She hits. Decided. Now I remember everything. She magically curses my life. It was my fault. The rose magically fell like ashes in my hands as if burned, as my harsh words burned her. The smell, stronger, filled the space. It was suffocating me.
I know what’s going on. The time has come. Yes. I am facing myself as she wanted. Nothing is the same.
I remember moments that flew, and I hated them. I remember I deleted memories that dared to speak softly in the silent evenings. I kicked them out. I cursed them.
I remember how I muddied a real moment, words I typed for a hurtful wound. I relive them without being able to correct them.
In my mind return those that I buried, into which I still pour soil. Ash dug them up like a spell. I remember those I chased away. I remember her, whom I grossly betrayed. I know. The curse blackens a black soul.
She’s talking to me. I hear. I blame. I withstand. I pretend. I endure. I get angry. I’m still holding on. I’m sad. I bear. I see her eyes. I’m still holding on. I recognize. I continue. I see within myself. It scares me. I’m still holding on. I do not live. I withstand.
Created by Diana Chemeris
Story in Greek:
https://fairytalesmaybereal.blogspot.com/2016/12/blog-post.html
Diana Chem 