Monday, 22 April 2013

A Dark Dream

She seems lost in the alleys of an old European town. Ashen and asymmetrical, abandoned buildings cover the place. Every lane is the same...the same grey colour. Smoke fills the air...
An ocean roars in the distance... blurred to her vision yet as grey as the buildings.

The dark, desolate alleys speak of doom and destruction. The city seems enveloped in a melancholic air of lamentation. The windows are broken, sooty and askew. The bright yellow light peeping through the tightly shut windows is a depiction of memories...of waning and diffusing life. Golden-yellow...sticky and tenacious like honey...glistening through the windows as if inflamed by a sense of death...before the last flicker of hope of clinging to memories diminishes. She walks in a snow white flowing dress. Her hair is dirty and unkempt.

At the corner of one alley she sees and old maiden, wearing a black cape, selling flowers. As she passes by, the old lady offers her a bunch of black roses...dry and withered. A wilted red rose lies in between. The old lady's face is far more grotesque than the flowers. The girl in white looks at her and feels pity...buys the whole bunch and gives her some money. As she moves to the next alley, she meets the same old lady again. She buys roses from her. The same women is seated at the end of every alley. The girl buys seven bunches... her hands are full with rotten, withered flowers...emanating the rancid smell of decaying bodies and garlic cloves.
Copyright: Anucreative
Sound of gunfire fills the air. The girl takes shelter in a nearby building. Circular winding steps lead to a closed door. She climbs carefully...her ivory feet are small and bare. She reaches the door and unlatches it. When she enters the room she is amazed to find it covered in mirrors. The ceiling, floor, walls - nothing but mirrors. She tries to leave the room but the door is no longer there...only a small outlet, a square frame cut across a wall.

Blinding light as bright as memory flashes through the window. She looks at herself in the mirrors but finds no reflection. She tries to find her reflection but can find none...She looks down the open window-like frame. The old lady with flowers is sitting on the street. She looks up with hollow eyes, offering a bunch of flowers. In one smooth, gentle movement, the girl jumps out...light swallows her.

The same room in another world:

The girl in white is standing in the middle of the room. Stains camouflage her dress.Virgin blood drips on her thighs and legs. She struggles to cover herself by trying to conceal her body but the colour of blood deepens and so do the scars on her body. The room is the same...a haggard beggar-woman in black follows her like a shadow. Every moment is repeated, enacted over and over again. Her words echo...the soliloquy becomes a dialogue between her voice and another's... Shrill, a banshee's.

The lady in black has a sharp diamond with her... she stabs the woman in white. First her thigh...silvery white blood oozes out...the girl struggles but fails. She is stabbed over and over again. The diamond touches her neck and slits it open. The pain is excruciating...she struggles to lie flat on her back. The beggar is gone... The room of mirrors has cracked up into a thousand pieces. In each broken piece she can see a reflection of her own...every single shard has her reflection as her soul vanishes from her body. She lies there immobile... Dead.

Sound of piano being played anonymously in the distance is all that can be heard.

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