Skip to main content

CONVERSING - narrative of the conscience

 

CONVERSING




And the room was dimmed by the pale light of a candle which cast his curved shadow against the wall. Even his shadow seemed more alive than he ever had been.
"Pale Tortured Blue" being played,
And it crushed him,
And he knew it,
And it tortured him,
And he knew it,
It was painful,
And he knew it.

"Your soul seems to want to leave the cage of your body, my dear."
"I see you're back after such a long time."
"And I see you have missed me dearly."

The bottle of darkened red wine standing right in front of him as he took it and gently poured some of its content in a glass. He then poured some more in another glass as he lit up a thin menthol cigarette. Oh, and the melody of the song playing sadness and sorrow, a festival of tears and pain engulfing his being, tightening around his already shattered heart,
And it crushed him,
And his soul crying for mercy,
And the prison of his body keeping it locked,
And he knew it.  

"I have perhaps missed you, though mostly have wondered where you had been"
"That is a way of missing something that you long for, don't you think? Let us not get entertained in banal notions. The matter is that I am here."
"I know that you are here. Will you take me with you this time? Will you embrace me? I am broken, and I have never been put back together."
"I see your longing for me, I see your gaunt soul craving for being released of its earthly prison, that even that candle right there seems to possess more life than yourself."

A doom gothic atmosphere enveloped it all in that darkened night as he kept on pouring more and more wine as if it were no tomorrow. Him sitting there in front of his own sorrows and fears and pain and all sentiments that flowed like a cascade as he tried in vain to contain. As he stared up the darkened night flashes of old memories invaded his head as he prayed for consolation, as he prayed for mercy for his time was short,
And that pierced him,
And he knew it, 
And he surrendered to his sorrow,
And he knew how much his heart desired to stop.

"It certainly has more life than I do, even its flame struggles to keep on going, as I myself only want to stop going, to let myself be forgotten."
"Although fire still leaves its own ashes, I assume yours are to be left behind."
"That's right. I guess that if I was given the opportunity I wouldn't leave any traces of my being."
"Don't weep for it is of no use and you shall come with me finally for I appreciate your missing me."
"I didn't miss you, I just thought about you, that's all."
"The thread between those two is so imperceptibly thin, I may add. But I appreciate your being so honest and forward about your desires in this moment. Long have I longed for this moment to come. And here we finally are."

Another puff of blue smoke, and another gulp of darkened red wine and another gush of tears. What more was there for him in a world that has already been long gone. Him being broken and hurt, shattered again and again under a mask of false pretense. He was broken and already gone,
And he knew his sorrow well, 
And it rooted itself deep within,
And he knew it.
He knew it.

"Take these shackles that bound me please!! I can't take it any longer! I am living a dead life of no purpose and all around me is bleak and meaningless!. Don't you see how powerless I am in this world which is just a song of loneliness and solitude. I have already become a shell, a ghost in a shell of a body! I beg you! Rid me of this decadence!."

As the night broke away to let the gleaming sunlight opening the doors for birds to sing and to a cold winter breeze, there was still an unbroken silence which swallowed it all. She had already kissed him goodbye, and there was no more earthly cage, just nothing in that room. Nothing.
































Comments

Popular posts from this blog

LA CHICA DEL CALLEJÓN - Descripcion de personaje de ficcion - de jrqc

Ese día el sol brillaba como siempre, bañandola en su resplendor, tornando el color de su piel en tonos de miel y nuez. Su juventud perfumaba la calle y los ojos de los espectadores no la perdían de vista. Ella era simplemente la frescura de la primavera y el calor del verano combinadas casi perfectamente en las carnes y la figura de su cuerpo.  Sus senos firmes dejaban entrever las aureolas de la juventud, mientras sus piernas daban paso a ese menear característico de su coqueteo, al que daba rienda suelta así como su castaña y ondulada cabellera. Su mente anidaba la sed de ver el mundo, de ir más allá de embriagarse del placer que éste le pudiera ofrecer y sin escatimar en ambiciones y sueños ella simplemente se dejaba ir. Era la carencia de estas vivencias y posesiones que la presionaban a sumirse y ser esclava de ambiciones que a veces eran malsanas y mezquinas, pero a ella eso no le importaba. Deseaba agarrar al mundo y hacerle su esclavo, deseaba ser complacida y en su parecer er

SACRED SERENADE - by jrqc - poetic prose

(watercolor by jrqc) I hear the in the distance the summoning chant, the striking of the drum, powerful and mighty, I sense your warmth, as if the flame of your passion licked my flesh, as if the sweat of the temple of your body once more bathed me, your voice in unison to the priests, protected by trees standing tall, and the golden fire of old. I see you crowned, I see your majestic beauty draped in white, shield and sword in hand, I see the depths of your eyes and I let you come into the corners of my heart and mind, and I know you will stay, and dwell, and linger, nothing more but feasts, battle and victory for us both. The chants filtered in waves through the branches and twigs,  that even they shake in marvel, the wind soft and whimless, caress the goldens of your hair, your mouth smirks in pleasure, I kiss you, and I merged with you in one flesh, and a spring of love and flowers burst within us, and to the forest we belong, and to the stars we sing, and to the moon we howl, and

THAT EVENING - by jrqc

You once said that we are entangled to death since the moment we are born, that we are chained to this earthly prison and that there is nothing we can possibly do about it, that all joy sinks countless times and that lovers will always mourn their dead love swallowed by neverending grief. It seems somehow that sadness in all its complexity lingers within, it extends it branches all over without distinction, with no regrets for who the victim is. Some branches seem to be so rooted that it makes the heart break, it makes it bleed tears to the point that you can barely function. Yes, I do still remember that evening when you said that and I noticed your face sinking, your spirit broken. However, you wouldn't divulge the reason of your torment. Your beautiful darkened eyes were bloodshot and you observed me, intently, your eyebrows would frown at times and your stare would grow deeper as if trying to snatch my soul. You stood close to me, I could feel your cold breath, I could feel you