Above and Below

Did he think me gone?

 The irksome fool. I may not be where he could see me, accost me, but I would never be gone. It would be too much of a kindness if I merely ceased existing, to let him go on in peace. No, he has wounded me too deeply for me to submit into nothingness. The idea that I do not even trouble him as a passing thought torments me on a daily basis. How can he live in peace while I continue to suffer at the mere sight of him?

 The other day, as he crossed the bridge we so often walked together in our time of courting, I thought the faintest memory of me might have surfaced in his mind when he paused at the railing and looked down at the waters. Spring had begun to melt the ice, and the great expanse that had once been solid now gave way to a surface that resembled a shattered mirror. Piece by piece the presence of a long winter ebbed away with the eternal meandering flow of the river.

 I wondered, as I watched him, if he recalled how I liked to stall him there for a chat while watching the autumn leaves float by from underneath the bridge. I liked to think of it as our spot, where I fooled myself into think he cared about me. He seemed so sincere, so genuinely interested in me, and I was desperate for the attention he gave me. I was the fool then. I know that now. Part of me knew it before he walked away from me, before my life sank slowly into a cold darkness filled with fear and despair. Somehow I knew he didn’t love me, but I deafened myself to the truth. I heard well enough the twists in his phrasing, the holes in his stories, and the lack of real emotion when I wielded my words to wound him.

 When was it when I saw the end?

 When was it that I truly notice that there was no light in his eyes?

 He was a monster, a silver-tongued monster with eyes that stared back black and soulless. Loneliness brought me to him, and a willful stupidity kept me under his influence. I always prided myself in being able to read people for what they are within instead of the masks they present the world. From the beginning I saw his darkness and capacity for evil and, I cannot lie, it intrigued me. I too had darkness that resided within me. It lurked beneath the surface, something akin to a forgotten primal instinct of self-preservation, but it was always kept in check by my desire to be a good person. Yet I wondered if our shadows were similar if not the same.

 In the end I discovered that I possessed more control over my dark faults than he. The fool might think of himself as superior, looking down as he did from the bridge railing, casting  his eyes upriver to view the place of my final resting, but he was not.

 The ice was melting, and as tight as the ropes were around my body, they will never be enough to keep me here. I will have my vengeance, and I have all of eternity to plot. And I am not alone in my seething, in my gleeful thoughts of revenge. My drowned sisters and I smile as we wait below, tethered to rocks and dancing to the song of the mighty river. We know, as many know all things in hindsight, that it will be only a matter of time before he will be among us. We will make sure he remembers us.

 We will be the very last of things he remembers.


 – WriteSemper
{What better way for me to get back into the swing of things than to write something creepy}


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