sexta-feira, 8 de janeiro de 2010

Progress to the Heir

Her heart, a block of ice. In her purse, a dagger to fulfil the rawest desire. Her innocence, taken so long ago. In an angry heart, a rotten soul, the lack of judgement, to steal the life of another by an act of selfishness and pure human thought. No more feelings to be considered, no more doubts to brings us to endless bliss, her pain brought in a night where despair would give in to silence.
The alley was silent, the night was quiet, no cat would betray their shadow beneath such a weeping Moon. Her dress would dance to the sound of the wind, the girl would jump in an adorable bliss. Such were the ways of the old days, no tree or building could tell it in any other way. She walked, ignoring every alley, every sound, she knew her way home. She walked, almost endlessly, in such an ease, maybe sloth had taken over her, maybe she had the most relaxing day in her young life. Little she knew, her road was of decadence, her sin about to commit itself against her own will. But her strength was too little, she was an innocent girl, couldn't fight against such evil forms and desires. She had gone into the shadow, betrayed by her own ways. Forgive her...
The morning came like no other but her sleep was much too painful. Had weeks gone by, months in sheer terror spent in her bedroom, what was she to do. The images in her nightmares were recurrent, she couldn't forget those eyes, forgive those hands that so hardly made her bend, erase the blood shed. The memory was corrupted, the child was no longer young, the world wasn't a fair friend, the night would bring her sleepless torture. She had to go, she moved on to her fate, unwillingly meeting her future husband, he who was to receive her in the most kind neglect. She didn't believed in love, she lost her ideas of romanticism and fantasies about princes. She would resign to live a life of solitude and silence. Her eyes told the pain but the words couldn't come out. He was in the living room, the eyes of her nightmares, the hands of her despair, her lost virtue, bliss and innocent in his smile. And she heard on what he was to gain with her. Couldn't forgive him...
He so kindly took her hand, whispered a few words of compliment and moved on. She was a tool, he was a martyr, such a virtuous boy who no one but her knew of his dirty, evil secret. She started to cry, couldn't take any more, she fell on the floor and, has the light started to vanish from her eyes, she begged... for death. She woke up in her bed, alone, at night. No dreams in this sleep, no new life in front of her. She had woke up and continued her old life. More of the old and the words still wouldn't come out. Injustice, such a martyr to be told but her pain to be married. She had lost everything and when she thought that it was the end, there he stood, tall, happy, a liar and a thief that only her could see. Has if any hope she still had after that night, he took it all out again to end her miserable life with a ring. No soul, no possessions, no feelings. Only revenge. She travelled with a dagger in her purse from that they onward. Her kind husband would know her truth in the end, even if it meant to lose the title of Heir of the Throne.

Sem comentários: