You stand with your family
looking at me with eyes full of hate–
angry at god-knows-what
since god-knows-when–
glaring at the lawyer, the clerk, the judge,
your mortal enemies without a grudge.
You shift the glare
to burn a hole through my heart.
Startled, I glance back without anger,
only deep loss at the part
where the last thing we ever share
is the papers you hand over
to set us both apart.
Taking steps one at a time,
Lost in a haze of images–
Too slow to look at,
Too fast to understand,
Backwards in the good times we had,
Fast forward in the non-existent future.
Voices of friends
a blur of background noises–
Too high to like,
Too low to register,
Numb to all pain–
Too numb to be alive,
Too dead to be breathing,
Still existing
In a world without you…
Image by Jr Korpa on Unsplash
I sit in the class
with all my best friends
laughing at their silly jokes
when I look behind
to find
my parents asking
why I am not packing.
So I walk to my drawer
and pull out all I own–
my bed and study table,
my colours and pencils,
drawing board and birthday cards,
letters and flowers,
and a stapler
to tie it all together
in a shoe box
that I’d carry to my new home.
I turn around one last time.
My friends disappear
one-by-one
in the rapidly darkening hall.
I hunt for a candle to light
so I won’t lose their sight
but there is none to find.
I feel no fear,
only deep inevitable pain,
an emptiness in my gut,
on losing
all that mattered the most.
I wake up choking on my tears
like every time
I dream of the days from the past.
Rising on my toes,
I yearned to touch the moon
and kept falling back
in the ocean all night.
But I managed to make waves,
didn’t I?
Free image by Navi Photography on Unsplash
The moment I saw him riding on his stead through my village, I fell in love. He was all I ever wanted–tall, handsome and regal, and a just King. I was sure he would love me too. I’m the most beautiful woman the world had ever seen. He had just lost his wife during childbirth. I could see his pain in the lines of his forehead. I wanted to smooth them out so he would be happy again.
That night, I cooked the love potion with all my heart and sent it to him in the food offering the next day. Being the King, he was obliged to accept it, which he did and after the first morsel, he sent me the marriage proposal. I was over the moon, riding the clouds, flying on the wind as I walked down the aisle and up to him where he stood holding a tiny girl in his arms, Snowdrop.
My steps faltered. She’d always be between us, reminding him of his past, never truly letting him move on. But his warm smile fell on me like sunshine. My breath was stuck in my throat. I took our marriage vows in that moment of insanity. Three days later, he woke up changed. The effect of the love potion had vaned. He was remorseful for having forgotten his first wife so soon. He wouldn’t allow me close. He drowned himself in alcohal while I waited in our bedchamber night after night for him to return. I tried creating the potion again, but failed miserably because even I could see, he’d never love me. His heart was too full of one woman to have room for another. A dead woman had bested me.
For years, I played governess to Snowdrop while he spent his days avoiding us. She reminded him of his first love. I reminded him of the failure to remember her. Everywhere I went, I heard whispers that the dead queen couldn’t hold a candle in front of me. That I was the most beautiful woman ever, yet even in her death, she has dwarfed me, forever, in love…
For years, I roamed the unending passages of this castle hiding from the pain of constant rejection, the whispering staff, the lusting courtiers and my own burning desire. He wouldn’t love me and I couldn’t love another. I was always on fire, and it consumed me until I wasn’t.
For years, I tried everything to lure him to me–sympathy, seduction, magic. I kept Snowdrop as far from him as possible, in the servant’s quarters hoping that, without the reminder, he would forget his past. But I received not a single drop of his affection, nor a child, heir to the throne and no future.
Once the king dies, which seems soon enough considering his failing health, the heir to the throne shall be the next male kin, Snowdop’s husband. I have tried to hide her in rags but she grows each day like a carnivorous flower, her alluring beauty trapping the affection of all those around her. Even at seven, the mirror calls her ‘the fairest of all’. Soon enough, princes from kingdoms around the world would line up for her hand. And with that would go my kingdom and my claim to beauty.
I have dealt with being the second-best all my life, but can I live with being a nobody?
Well, there is only one way to go from here…
Snowdrop has to die!
When I die,
Don’t cover my grave with stones or epitaph.
Let me feel the seasons on my skin.
Don’t tend it everyday. Let life take over.
Let weeds grow–Wildflowers of every colour,
So, you’d think of me in death
as in life–
A splash of wild colour in a bleak world.
When I die,
Don’t bring fresh flowers everyday.
I won’t meet you, anyway.
I’ll be somewhere sitting in a sunny nook,
Thinking of a lost song or an old book.
So, you, too, better move on.
Let life take over.
You picked my pieces
from the ruins,
dreaming to put me
together
on the pedestal
of perfection–
A place where I could
never belong.
Angry, you pushed me
off the pedestal
Shattering me into
Countless pieces
of heart.
Every day.
Food burnt in kitchen.
Laundry soaked and waiting long,
While tears wait to fall.
Love fails, anger reigns.
Autumn leaves cover the ground.
Dreams fly, nightmares stay.
You were here again,
as angry and distant as ever.
You crossed the worlds
to see me
but you speak not a word.
Your handsome face
is marred by the scowl
that is your permanent expression…
with me.
You might think it tells me
what you wish to say,
but it only makes me wish
to run away to the place
that is safe
from the heartbreak
your hatred brings to me,
even in dreams.
There is no way to start over
until we meet again
in death…
Short Stories | Fish-eye Perspective 