1. My internet was broken for a whole day today.
2. My friend once asked me if I could write fiction in English. This was my third but my first literally.
3. I'm sick, finally.
4. Enjoy.
Author: Trân Nguyễn.
Rating: T+
Catergory: Romantic, Tragedy, angst.
|Waldeinsamkeit|
(German): The feeling of being alone in the woods.
The day I acknowledged the world was when I turned to seventeen. The world was actually pretty small. It was a zone of darkness, included my bed and a door. Far far above, a sky, I guess, was also deep in crepuscule but it has a window. The world always worked in only one way: morning and night. In the morning, the world will kindly send me little warm sunshine. It was also the only time I could take a look at my face, my pale skin, my melancholy eyes, my blooded red lips, and brush my long hair. But even so, the morning couldn’t cover everything as the night did to the world. I love my night, my lovely silky night, when the world was coated in its usual darkness, and, when he came back.
Around 8923 times of my heartbeat after the twilight, he would came home.
I told you. He would came.
He stood in front of my face with torch to burn up this darkness. His skin was darker than mine, as if, I wondered, he was from another world.
“How are you, em?” He asked me quietly.
His voice was warmer than the sunshine of morning. It wholeheartedly sweeten my ears, somewhere around my chest, then my entire body was melted in his benevolent voice.
I took a deep breath to calm myself. “I’m fine, anh. How about you?” I replied.
“I miss you.” He said.
After that, he would eye at me for awhile with his tiring eyes while I was eating his soup. Then he would touch my hair tenderly, smelt it from far away. Then he would look at me for a whole night till I slept. I loved this feeling, the feeling of him nearby me, protecting me. I loved it.
The world was him and me. And that’s enough.
...
Everyday was the same. The morning would come by my window to wake me up and let me know he has gone. I would clean up my my hair, my body, put up some fragrance for him. When the twilight floated by, I would stop everything and counted down the heartbeats. I couldn’t wait to hear his warmhearted voice. I couldn’t wait to see him, look at his giant beautiful hands with slim fingers brushing my hair. I couldn’t wait to feel him close by me, to smell his scent slightly flowing by my nose.
I loved it like this. I didn’t want to change.
...
Today isn’t the same. I hear his feet’s sound earlier than usual. He brings home a cake and some fire things.
“They are candles.” He said.
“For what, anh?” I asked.
“For your birthday. Today is your 18th birthday.” He replied. “It’s special.” He smiled tenderly while looking at me.
In front of my wondering eyes, he takes out the cake, puts the candles on top and burns them. Those candles sparkle with lickie lickie lick sound.
“Blow them, em.” He whispers. “And make a wish.”
“... What is a wish, anh?”
He giggles, “Something you want to make it come true... like some more slices of cake.”
I’m full. I never eat that much. I don’t want some more, so obviously it’s not my wish. My wish should be something more special than a slice of cake.
But I wonder what I want. I don’t know. I don’t have any, I guess. I love it like this. I love to have him here, by me every night, touching my hair.
Ah... I wish.
I blow those candles then look at him, eyes by eyes, and say, “I wish you to touch me, anh.”
He’s stunned, I can see. He wonders what to do, what not. Suddenly I realize he can deny it, he can reject my wish, and may be me. I shouldn’t say that. But my face is the same as before I asked. I stay calm while my hands are all coldly shaking. I want him to know I’m serious. I want him to look at me in my pale skin, my endless hair, and my straightly melancholy eyes toward him.
He slowly comes to me. For the first time after a really long time, may be millions of beats, or billions, or even more, he is that close to me. His face is all over my eye view. The time stops. He slowly gets his beautiful hand through my hair, then all of sudden, his slim fingers touches my skin. He gets closer, slowly and tenderly put his lips upon mine.
Then he walked away.
“Your wish came true, em.” He said.
“But no more.”
...
I cannot sleep that night. He left me with a burning desire. I want more than this. I wonder why. Thousands of questions are drinking my head.
What is this feeling?
What do I want?
Why didn’t he want to touch me?
I burden my head in the warm softness of my white bed. I love this bed. I love seeing him around me. I love when he brushes my hair, touches my skin, whispers in my ears. I love it when he kisses me.
I love his tiring eyes, his warmhearted voice, his tender smile, his short hair, his beautiful hands, his slim fingers.
I love everything about him.
I...
I...
Suddenly all of the strange emotions swallow up in my stomach, vomit inside my heart, and burst into tears.
I love him
And he is not even mine.
...
I say nothing and let myself dip in the silence of darkness. The morning comes with its heartless sunshine like nothing even happens.
Suddenly, I heard a sound from nowhere.
“Cheep cheep”
It’s the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. The sound is innocent as it was washed out from all of the sorrows. It is what wakes me up every morning.
I try to be quieter to concentrate to the sound. It cannot be human since I don’t understand it, I think. But it is from an alive creature, I know it.
Even though I don’t understand what it says, but I know it wants to tell me something.
It tells me, there is something else beyond this window.
The sound suddenly gets louder and louder in my head that makes me dizzy.
What is outside the window? Is it ugly? Or is it beautiful? Is it a lot? Or is it just that sound? Is it dangerous? Or is it safe? Is it gorgeous? Is it pretty? Is it lovely? Is it stunning? Is it delightful? Is it graceful? Is it elegant?
And why does he keep me here?
I want to get out of here. I want to see more. I want to hear more. I want to touch more. I want to smell more. I want to feel more.
I punch on the door. It stays the same. I punch more. I keep punching. Nothing happens. It is locked. He has been locking me here.
I get insane. I want to get out of here, this wicked place.
But there is no way I can get out.
I am locked.
...
As usual, he comes back. He looks at me. I look at him, try to hide my bloody hands. He touches my hair, and says,
“Your name is Rapunzel.”
Immediately, I run into him, push him down, take the piece of glass I hided from the crashed mirror, and keep stabbing on his heart. The energy comes from nowhere strengthens me. His blood spouts out all over my face, my hair, my white dress, and my body.
I stop and breath hard. When my hands stop shaking, I come to his body. I wash his bloody face, burden myself in his chest, take his hands around my waist. I touch his hair, then his face. I kiss him on his forehead, on his nose, then the last one on his lips.
My tear drops down on his eye then runs down and disappears.
“My name is Rapunzel.”
.
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