The three quartered moon glowed away to glory, the night stretched its paws like a fluffy kitten just awakened from an enchanting dream, bat screeching echoed and far away city lights twinkled before losing to the eternity.
Darkness concealed everything with perfection. Every corner, every crack, every curve, every crevice of her room, the curtains, the walls, the windows and the world beyond. It concealed everything. Myths. Mysteries. Ugly dark secrets. Joys. Old promises made to someone. Resolutions made to self. And who knows what.
She leaned back, tugged a wild tuft of hair behind the ear and tried to feel the romance that loitered in the potency of night. Wildness. Eeriness. Loneliness. Far far away, lights played hide and seek at the horizon, the colors crumbled down from the skies, where they said, dreams came true. A far distance away.
She turned back to the mirror and did the unthinkable. Wore two thick coats of red lipstick. Painted her nails red. Applied red shade of rogue. She looked ridiculous to herself.
Hideous.Wasted. Wicked. Wrinkled. Bloody.
Many years ago when she was young but sensible she promised herself that she would remain the pink fairy, that the only color she’d be other than pink would be aqua, that she would never play the games of heart and then she resolved with firm cerebral faculty, that red would always be sinister for her, that only witches and brides could wear red. Witches – because they’re wicked. Brides – because they’re to be sacrificed.
She glared back at the countenance in the mirror and caressed her lips with her fingertips, daintily, like that of a lover – she was one to herself after all.
But then madness rose in her like bile and stayed. She dug her fingernails deep in her palms wanting to peel off everything, her wrinkles, her skin, the scars, the creases; she wanted to peel off herself – herself from her. She stood skin-side out and looked. Argued. Wrestled and won.
The night was eerie, the air waited, the buzz of the fan watched. She leant towards the hideous wicked image, and recklessly started rubbing her face, trying to get rid of that ominous hue, subtle scurry movement, trying in vain to wipe it out; the red color smeared everything, her fingertips, her cheeks, her chin, the paleness of her hands. Everywhere.
That particular minute seized the opportunity and inexplicably lingered on, the tint repudiated to let go. It started absorbing in her skin, deeper and deep, trickled down insider her, captivating her, confiscating her, taking control. The red ensnared her heart.
Evilly, she sucked shades from everything around her, every single thing, stored them in her palate, and re-colored them; she painted the sun orange, the mountains blue, the trees yellow and the stream green. And she painted him red.
May 02, 09.
I owe the gratitude to Mav for helping me make this beautiful 🙂
ps. cross posted at WL.