|Ressurection (standard:Flash, 237 words)|
|Author: Cyrano||Added: May 22 2006||Views/Reads: 1924/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|There was no sign of illness on the horizon, no sign of financial difficulties; one imagined the opposite, some enchantment and perfect comfort.|
Resurrection © Kelly_Shaw2001 When I took my life I took from the world my affections, my reasoning, my passion, sometimes marvellous and unforeseen. It was a merciful thing to do, killing myself at the point of love, some said, ceasing the agony of living without it. But no, that is romantic nonsense. In the end it was the madness of secrets, those stories never shared, the love denials, the wintry passages through boredom, the harmonic intervals followed by summers of discoveries. The killing was easy. The light of my day extinguished. It held no fascination for me. The day before I was breathing and smiling, charming all I knew. I was a salesman of wit and charisma. It was time to reinvent my life; hide from view, from past affections, from criticisms. I killed my brilliance, split my spirit, ended sorrow, and yet kept people believing I walked among them. I remember myself; sure I do, fleetingly, as one recalls a dream days later. I am purified of all wrongdoing, released of desire, now living in a world that is my salvation. Gone is the egoism of adolescence, the studious optimism, and the hourglass of nocturnal melodies. There are nights when I wish to hail him, this deader than dead man. Discover the secret of his wintry nights, the visitations, the simplicity of his breathing, but to my relief I only ever see him sinking beneath tides. Tweet
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