Hymn for the lost

A record of her memories safely hidden in a wooden drawer spoke about the stagnant lake of tears that had once healed the wounded.
Hymn for the lost
Representational Image

A record of her memories safely hidden in a wooden drawer spoke about the stagnant lake of tears that had once healed the wounded. She scanned through the dungeons as a whirlpool of darkness dissolved into her skin; the silhouette of a human form was visible beyond a big ebonized bookcase. As her eyes adjusted to the growing darkness she spotted him sitting on the chair, chains enclosing his arms emitting a silvery light that shimmered with a faint glow.

A blank expression was stretched across his face that held a pair of eyes rolling in its sunken sockets as the peeling yellow skin decayed. Soaking the sponge in the barrel full of water she started to clean the corpse with a mad whirl of eagerness stimulated by the paranormal vibes coming from the room. She fell into his memory as the heavily scented smoke settled on her lashes humming gently the forgotten sonnets of separation, making them droop in submission. There was something about her torment that showed an infantile unwillingness to make sense and would often trigger a chain of wails blaring through the long nights. Flickering rays flooded the room casting an unsteady light on the blackened portraits that hung on the walls in stained frames, its residents staring watchfully through the broken glass covering them. Being done with her daily chore she made her way to the exit,  ignorant of the dense clouds of dust exhaled by the moth-eaten carpet with every step she took. She couldn't afford to bury the dead underneath her pity knowing well it would claw back to the surface to catch its wasted breath.

Anyhow, she would occasionally unhinge the rusty door leading to the time when her soul was pure from the venomous bite of a serpent that cursed her for life.  A riot that set ablaze everything she had held dear. She was a lone witness of a blood curdling execution of a man who was hanged by the city gates and left alone to be consumed by time, who now lay in a mysterious dungeon held together by bandages soaked in chemicals. They were sinners who worshipped unsheathed words, drinking from the same goblet that had once harbored the elixir of life transforming them into intoxicated souls careening from one port to another. Shedding off their skin and scattering its fragments with a hope that someone would someday find what was lost in the tiring run. The flames lapped around the edges of her paper-like life threatening to destroy what had taken too long to preserve. These thoughts swarmed in her head flying around and spiflicating her stability making her run to the doomed dungeon. The surface beneath her melted, sending ripples dancing around in circles making her trip on her way to the mummified body. She clutched him by the shoulders and rocked him sideways to find any traces of life but all she heard was the deafening mixture of hissing and jeering muttered by the occupants in the frames devoured by moss. 

She tore at the cobwebby chains that revealed the white washed wrists drained of blood and life, brandishing her hands in dismay knowing well her mistake would never be pardoned yet doing what was needed to be done nonetheless. Carrying what was left of the decayed flesh; she entered the overgrown graveyard and placed him by the tombstone that had words of wisdom engraved on it. The burden on her chest grew steadily as she stared at the remains of his beloved who waited for his delayed burial to end. She sat beside him mourning their fates as the tears prickled her cheeks marking the end of a long war which was never fought in its proper sense. It had taken her all these years of excruciation and pronounced guilt to realize that she was a mere nonparticipant spectator to tragedy from the day they butchered her husband.

asma.hafiz.z@gmail.com

Related Stories

No stories found.