quarta-feira, junho 20, 2007

The grim reaper


The grim reaper lurked behind the shadows, his scythe standing motionless just inches away from the darkened window of the room. His black empty eyes stared at the scene that went on inside, in the dark, in the deadly silence that shouted out the terror within.

Inside the room a young girls looked at her self in the mirror. She was pretty. Long brown hair, sweet round face with a perky little nose, big green eyes, and a mouth that could open up into a smile able to melt the coldest ice.

Over the table a 13 page long letter explaining the world why the thing she wanted the most in this world was to die, in her end a pair of scissors ready to cut through her perfectly shaped white wrists. Ready to carve deeply into her flesh, ready to open up veins and arteries, ready to spread all across the floor the fluid of her life.

Death waited silently for the play to continue its tragic course. That was her true purpose, to wait for as long as necessary for human lives to come to her and join her in their last journey.

The letter talked about a great many things, about beauty, about affection, about ugliness and rejection. Mostly it talked about loneliness. The girl was lonely. Despite the daily presence of her family, the conversations with her school friends, during the dark watches of the night she felt the solemn despair of the lonely. Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty that can afflict man, for it is not good for man to be alone. She ached for a soul mate with whom to share her gloom, for a pair of ears to listen to her pains, for some words to ease her sorrow.

Slowly, yet purposely, her hand grasped the handles of the scissors and started to cut her own flesh. Without a single murmur, without a single tear, the red line of blood started to drip into the floor of the room. She went without a sound, her life slowly dripping away from her like the blood that now soaked the carpets.

The grim reaper held out its hand towards her and as she took its bony fingers in hers, they both started a journey to a place from where no man as ever returned.

2 comentários:

correioverde disse...

só para te deixar um beijinhos porque há muito não te escrevo.
Ana

Pedro disse...

Uau, não é todos os dias que recebo um beijinho polaco!!! Espero que esteja tudo a correr bem por aí!!!