Accepting light

Accepting light

A Story by Aldora Sparrow
"

Letting the light flow in?

"

Accepting light

We stand here together in this dark room, watching the other. The two of us are in matching white dresses that ripple in the same way in an unfelt wind. Our identical brown hair is unbound.

Yet we are different. Our eyes, though the same shade of blue, might as well be made from two different stones. Your light blue is the sky on the clearest day. Mine are the darkest depths of the ocean. A soft light flows from within you and dapples your dress while shadows rise from the darkness beneath our feet and decorate mine with begging hands. Trying desperately to pull me into the inescapable folds of the darkness beyond.

            A distant clock ticks, sending chills with every resonance. The feelings flicker restlessly across your features. Though I try to ignore it, I cannot avoid the worried glances your eyes throw. I feel each one on my skin like the sunbeams that greet me every morning. Your mouth opens and closes without a sound as you try to say something. My stare silences you every time.

            Finally, you overcome your fear. “You have to stop,” you say.

            I say nothing.

Swallowing, you try again. “You can’t do this,” you continue, eyelids fluttering nervously.

            My eyes slide over towards you, but I don’t turn my face. “And what are you going to do about it?” My gaze dares, taunts you.

            Unfortunately you have the same stubbornness as I do. You ignore the challenge. “You can’t keep suffering like this. It will kill you.”

            I don’t answer right away. I just gaze at you. You are like moonlight on river waters, your image rippling brightly against the black. But me…Like a ragged piece of fabric, I am broken. How could I compare?

“We all die eventually…” I start.

            “But you still have hope!” you insist.

            It is testing every reserve of restraint I have. I dig my nails deeper into my skin, leaving crescent-shaped marks that start to cry scarlet tears.

            “There are worse things,” I say, “it could be so much worse�"”

            “Look at you,” you cut over me, gesturing at me then you. “Look at us.”

I cannot think of anything to say. I don’t even need to look to know that I have signs of my suffering, marks of my tortured silence.

“At least think of him. It’s killing him too. He doesn’t even know.”  You reach a hand out but you cannot touch me. Even though there is a barrier between us, I still hate you for not being here.

Your eyes are pools of anguish. “I want to take your pain away,” you say earnestly. Your voice trembles like vibrato with the self-control.

           “No!” I slam my hands against my ears, nearly deafening myself. For a moment I am stunned from the shock. All I can do is murmur, “No…no…”

You still don’t taking your eyes off of me. “Just listen to me,” you continue, just only loud enough to cover my groans. “I will do anything, anything…if it can make you happy. Please let me help you…

            I continue to moan like the autumn wind, tired and defeated. “No… no…” I persist incessantly.

            After watching me for a moment longer, you lean forward and press upon the unseen wall between us. When you speak again, it is a whisper. Even with my hands firmly clamped over my ears and eyes tightly shut, I cannot close my heart that hears every word that you say.

“Please…I love you.”

            “Shut up!” I stand up so fast that my head spins. You stand up as well, worry adding a hundred years to your expression. This is enough. I throw my fist into your shining face. I hate understanding that the anxiety you have for me is not fake or out of pity. I hate knowing that you are right. Most of all, I hate how your light can’t flow into me. I desperately wish that your radiance could be enfold me as well.

The last thing I see cross your face is hopelessness. Your image cracks and… shatters.

Reality sets in. My bedroom floods into view as if, during the whole encounter, it was hidden behind still black curtains and now they are drawn back, flooding my vision with color.

            I blink a few times. Something wells up and momentarily obscures my view like a dark cloud smearing across the moon with a single stroke of paint. Then it trickles down my face. I am horrified to see that they are tears.

You are gone. Then, as if this realization is the key to allow the feelings to flow back, the memories I had tried so hard to sink return to me, salvaged from your absence. I roughly wipe the tears away.

Something glimmers on the edge of my vision and I gaze down. At my feet, there is only broken glass, my tears like marbles mixed among the shards. They are the remains of my cruelest enemy and my only friend.

A destroyed mirror.

 

© 2011 Aldora Sparrow


Author's Note

Aldora Sparrow
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It's a beautiful sorrow that lines your words, hinting at the twist to come your skirts flutter in the breeze of your despair, self-loathing blooms as scars across the tender flesh, and in self-consciousness you turn to the one you know will tell the truth, within you the persona of your innocence and beauty is hidden still. Her skirts flutter around her perfection and you wish to have her back on your surface, so that the others can see, see that you have your untainted self back, see that you are beautiful once again. Behind her she holds the wings you used to covet, but when your heart blackened you pushed them away for fear of tainting them with your essence. Help sounds so beautiful it hurts your ears and you daren't allow it, you don't deserve it, the monotonous lies whisper and repeat this mantra, your words twist and snarl from your side of the mirror and in a denied anger you thrust away the truth staring at your vulnerable eyes. Desire for your other self causes a harrowing sorrow to blossom and as your petals wilt you burn yourself not caring to pick up the pieces. It is a sad thing when our mirror image has become the person we want to be, and here you perfectly write you wisdom and knowledge down, the emotions following the pain come to life, such beautiful talent, such wizened knowledge.

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.



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Reviews

It's a beautiful sorrow that lines your words, hinting at the twist to come your skirts flutter in the breeze of your despair, self-loathing blooms as scars across the tender flesh, and in self-consciousness you turn to the one you know will tell the truth, within you the persona of your innocence and beauty is hidden still. Her skirts flutter around her perfection and you wish to have her back on your surface, so that the others can see, see that you have your untainted self back, see that you are beautiful once again. Behind her she holds the wings you used to covet, but when your heart blackened you pushed them away for fear of tainting them with your essence. Help sounds so beautiful it hurts your ears and you daren't allow it, you don't deserve it, the monotonous lies whisper and repeat this mantra, your words twist and snarl from your side of the mirror and in a denied anger you thrust away the truth staring at your vulnerable eyes. Desire for your other self causes a harrowing sorrow to blossom and as your petals wilt you burn yourself not caring to pick up the pieces. It is a sad thing when our mirror image has become the person we want to be, and here you perfectly write you wisdom and knowledge down, the emotions following the pain come to life, such beautiful talent, such wizened knowledge.

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on April 4, 2011
Last Updated on April 4, 2011

Author

Aldora Sparrow
Aldora Sparrow

About
I have been writing for longer than I can remember, but it was only during 7th grade did I start to write outside of class. I am still inexperienced and I love helpful comments. I love to write fa.. more..

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