Really like that, Milly.
Indeed, very Poe-esque.
Hmmmm....*Scrounges through writings*
Wrote this over a year ago when I was depressed:
Very warm the liquid was. It reminded me of the time at Aunt Mary's house, those many years ago, when I pricked my finger on the rose bush that sat just off her front steps. There was not much of the liquid then; it was merely the size of the head of a needle. I sat there for hours, my eyes transfixed upon the crimson that stood like a marble on the tip of my tiny finger.
It was so very red. The idea that such a beautiful colour could emerge from my own body stimulated me. It made me feel proud. I made this, I thought. Maybe I'm God...
As a teenager I would sit out in the open fields, using the grass as my pillow. I would hear singing whenever I laid there. I always wondered if it was the grass...The sound was so beautiful.
The sky looked down at me, its clouds seeming to form a grin. I would grin back and say, “I'll come back some day. But first I must experience the other beauties this world has to offer.” I was referring to the place that my mother would call 'The Forbidden Land'.
I stepped foot on concrete when I was 25 years old. The road was very long. However, I was used to walking, so the distance would not be too much of a hassle. My mother would miss me, but, as I told the clouds, I would return one day. But first, I would have to explore this Land that my mother spoke of.
Colossal stones surrounded me; some were sleek and shiny, while others were blank and mundane. Even so, it was all so very new and exciting to me. It was all so very beautiful. As I looked about in front of me, I saw the machines that rode past my house very rarely. But here there were so many! They crowded the stone pathways like the people on the side paths, screeching loudly. The sound was very unpleasant to the ears, but still...beautiful.
Oh yes, and the people. There were so many, but they did not seem to be happy. How could they not feel happy when there were so many beautiful things around? I asked this question to a man holding a rectangular item to his face, but he payed me no mind. Further pursuit of the answer proved to be impossible; the eyes of the people here were forward and unmoving, like the sculptures my mother would make out of wood in the backyard.
When the brightness of the sun was a bit too much for my eyes, I ducked into the shade between two adjacent stones. I noticed a man there. His garb was very much dimmer than the clothes that I had seen those sculpture-faced people wear. However, when I looked into his eyes, they were like those of my mothers.
“Why do the people here not enjoy the beauty that they see?” I sat down beside the man.
The man's brow furrowed under caked dirt, sweat, and a mat of grey hair.
“The sky is so bright. Yet the faces are so dim.” I continued.
The man grunted. “There aren't nothing in this city that's got beauty. Not the trees or 'nothing. Cynthia used to have beauty, yeah. Not there no more. Not there.”
“Who is Cynthia?”
“Works the streets at midnight down on 3rd. I asked her to marry me once.” He scratched his chin, which was covered in white bumps.
“What'd she say?”
“What do you think she goddamn said? She said no! I aren't got no wife, no money, no life.” He produced a tool from his coat. It resembled the object that my mother would chop vegetables with. But this one was nowhere near as shiny. In fact, it was very dark.
I stared as the pointed end of the thing slid quickly across the man's wrist. The man laid back slowly against the wall and stared upwards, almost in wait.
“Excuse me, sir, what are you--”
“Shh. This is the only beauty I'm gonna get.” And that was when I noticed the familiar crimson substance flowing from a large hole in his wrist. But there was so much more! It fell down his arm and slowly spread across the ground.
I touched the liquid and remembered the first time I'd seen it. It was so beautiful. More of it would be oh so much better. Thus, I took the pointed object from the man's now limp hand and pressed the tip against my own wrist.
It was so warm when it came out. As I sat there watching it flow from me, I heard singing.
The sound was beautiful.