It tis not as morbid as you would conjure, while drinking all dark things into the mind as with a terror tale. Of all the imaginations that can be imagined, this is something that cannot be fathomed by minds of most.
Although it is cold here, there are no enemies at the gates, no spies on the hillside and no one is trying to wrap me in strange jackets and confine me to the dungeons. I am in freedom,alone, I am this and there is no need to pretend. For I have long since past the time that I was in need to entertain.
I roam the corridors desolate, as I have roamed them day after day and month after month. I have no regrets of this fateful decision. For many months beforehand, I have weighed my options. I have felt each consequence and each blessing and I have put them to the scale to find my answer. And there is was...the truth. sat before me, starring with orphaned eyes. I picked up the truth and held it close...examining and honoring it's purity. I knew what had to be done and it was simply nothing.
To do nothing more for the time being but to stay and to reflect.
Morning has come again and I shall not rise and greet the sun. No, this is not my time, no long shall it be as it has been. This has become my time to slumber, my time to recollect of the past years reasserting my decision. I sleep below the keep; a darkened concrete tomb that I procured from one of my unknown ancestors. They shall not sorely miss their sleeping quarters, I am sure of it as well. I laugh then at this thought as I laughed when I pulled free the dry bones to covet my bedding...and my frigid crypt. I reflect on these things as my heavy lids shut upon my pupils and I fall into the nothing ness. This crypt was sacred to me...and well below where I walked as if in human form.
There were 256 steps to descend to my resting place. I had counted them a few weeks ago while on my descent. Everything has a number now. There are 15 windows on the upper floor, 8 windows below that one...and so on...I find details to be mesmerizing to my night trained eyes. I shall count the rivets in the stone work on the landing on the morrow. I have noticed their twinkling and shining on my way down to sleep. They demand my attention and so what's left of me shall be at their service. I count the night birds, the moths and the stray cats that wander into my lair...and I count their bones as well. So many things have numbers and my mind had never quite wrapped around this significance.
I removed the mirrors last month. I had grown weary of their insistance that I should care about my own visage. The last opportunity that I had to glance upon my face, I was shocked. My hair had grown to clear below my waist and my face was gray pallid. The dark circles below my eyes were no worse as I was so much worse for wear. A fine layer of dust had collected upon the glass and so I wiped it clean with my thin white hands. As I made this motion, I noticed the tips of my hands to have acquired dangerous talons of which I had seen no other human female to carry. I jerked my hand away and hissed at my own reflection. My eyes were dark still and held the truth of all things. When I finally tore myself away from my self gaze, I broke the mirror into peices. Those that were not shattered I tore them down and stored them deep below my crypt...exactly 204 steps below my sleeping place. I was then free of the sight of what I had become. And so my metamorphosis remained a mystery inside my desire to be alone...and I was alone..I was alone....
My tattered wardrobe was more than fitting for a recluse such as I had become. To more spoil and comfort me were luxurious and jewel enlaid garments left behind...but I did not have need of their materialistic pleasure. Although, for pure joy and curiosity, I would adorn such silly raiments and parade around as some other fiend unknown to me. Their heavy fabric would drag through the dust of the marble floors as I re-enacted some silly ditty from the past, either that or I would simply roam the halls as some ghastly apparition forever grieving those who had left before. But I did not grieve a'tall; I was enamored by the empty halls and their secrets. For, I was alone and glad in my lonliness.
Although, if mirrors were still lined upon these walls, they would say that I was terrible sight...they would reveal the thing beyond which could not be contained by those of normalacy. I was a creature of habit; a thing of human pleasure still. The pattern of cleanliness remained within me as I had been obsessed with the beautiful scents left abandoned in the vast rooms of the castle. I found exotic parfumes, oils and incense left carelessly behind by those who ran screaming on that lost and long ago night. I found Exotic Amber, perulent Rose and amorous essence of lilac. And there were powders and sweet scented undergarments. I would play and try them all to my pleasure...but I would never again look upon myself.
As I said, I was clean-a creature of habit still... I found moonlit waters along the hillside to be in perfect sync with my reclusive lifestyle and so I bathed there nightly while listening to the night birds. Then, I would stroll through the forests of the night clad as I was born. My flesh wished to feel all the things which surrounded me...in perfect oneness with my needs. I was alone...but yet, I was surrounded by things that fed and slept and drank as I did. The creatures of the vast black lands welcomed me into their habitat for a bit then crept away in fear as most other things eventually did in my presence. I was alone...
The libraries were filled and filled with parcments and volumes of lovely things...some of these things I had already read many many times before. There were exactly 32,589 bound volumes inside the library...but I have not finished enjoying some their beautiful, deadly and destructive tales as to date. This was always a nightly habit of mine as well ; to read before the sun rose and shone its organge glow on the faded pages of a well loved story. Then I knew it was time to slumber and time to dream of nothing again. I was alone and alone I would be until I grew weary and flew away, simply traveled fast upon some other morrow. The time would come when the volumes and volumes of good works would be expended, the scents would fade fast away and I would tire of this place...called home.
Then, I would move on. But more than likely, the lovely comforting feeling of being alone would still accompany me. I had weighed these other things and they were not to my liking. I shant ever feel the warmth of human gratitude as I had done before. I shant forget the pain of misunderstandings which made hiding, so much more like home. I shant forget the look on the faces as I stood before them uninhibited and naked in my monstrosities. I shall remain...
and remain I shall.
alone
No comments:
Post a Comment