Soul - Part 1 Let it go, son. No one leaves here. Ash swirled with the wind like filthy snow. The man seemed so out of place, trapped in time like a forgotten mirage from a long past Victorian ball. His regalia was fitting to his odd existence. He spoke clearly; no sign of the new age interpretation of modern English. I sat on the bench. My eyes couldnt leave the puddle of blood that lay just a few feet away. An earthly bowl of scarlet and dirt flavored with flakes of dead leaves and small twigs. As if the sky here bleeds. The street is clay brick, the trees are barren, the air is dry and everything seems so void and decayed. Rusted carriages pass us drawn by skeletal horses, headless children play hopscotch and the animated corpses of the residents here move along in spasmed motion. A macabre rhythm that is something of a nightmare. A man in a service jacket gnaws the remains of a small cat and just to my right an old woman sits with milky white eyes; her hands toil endlessly pushing the needle and thread through the flesh of her stomach. None of this holds my attention. I cant look away from the puddle of claret. What do you see, son? Asked the misplaced stranger. Her, I mumbled. I see her face. The man signed and ran his fingers through his thinning hair. Well dont. Its just part of the torment of being in this place. Anyone and anything weve ever loved...its to taunt us you see? Pets, friends, children; youll find their reflection at every turn. All I see is her. I looked up, is it real? Its very real, he said with a chilled sympathy. Youll see glimpses of every passing day. Until the end, of course. The end? Till she dies, my boy. I looked back to puddle and she was gone. Instead of her cherub face I saw a pale rigid reflection that shared my features but couldnt have belonged to me. I slid off the bench and knelt down close, I could smell the metallic stench of blood. The face staring back from within the muck mimicked me. He had curly black hair entangled with debris and dirt, his eyes burdened with dark heavy rings and his flesh was nearly albino white. It wasnt real to me until I watched my own hand slowly caress the flesh of my cheek. I screamed. Suicide, the man said, gently lifting me to my feet. You poor souls suffer the most. My voice quivered. What is this place? He offered a crooked smile and simply said: I think you know. Silence took hold of me. But after what seemed like a small eternity I gathered my thoughts and knew there was only one thing that mattered. I need to see her. He chuckled. Oh you will, my boy. Every day until - NO, my voice carried a thundering malice that made him jolt. I need to SEE her. Do you understand? He shook his head and scoffed. No one leaves this place. Bullshit! He jumped to his feet and brought his face close enough to my own so that I could smell the stench of putrid meat upon his breath. Now you better have a look around, my boy, he gestured to our barren and debris riddled surroundings, this is home now! The sooner you come to terms with that the better youll be. Your love your sentimental attachment and nostalgic ideas of belonging and romance are done! Let her go...look away...and with time youll realize that emotion and longing will do you more harm than good down here. ...I love her, my words were merely a whisper. He sighed and looked away for a moment. His words were soft but nevertheless cut deep. Let it go, son...You left your love up THERE. But not my heart, old man.
Posted on: Fri, 04 Apr 2014 17:51:15 +0000
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