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A dark boulevard spanned across the shadowy expanse, its stone cold and lifeless, it's surface damp. The soul looked out of a gloomy window, her eyes gazing up at the burning streetlights which set luminosity upon the world. Her world was grey, cold and dead. There was no hope of joy or happiness. She turned back to confront the obscure cell.
The elegant place had been residence to many battles. Each one a silent attack between two parts of the girls mind. The room's marble floor was now staunched of any glow; the fire was out. When it was lit, the room became filled with life and soul, flames flickering almost sinister yet with so much emotion. The thick, burgundy curtains creased just where they were intended, shadows crawling up them and silhouettes made by the fire's gaze. And small, red tinges could be seen, if only there was somebody to look.
Now, the room was voiceless. With no meaning. The girl stepped out, her face wet' She had wanted to fill the room with noise and laughter, but she could not.
Polished granite steps led up to the bleak second floor. Hard-soled shoes hit the bitter steps with an almost magnetic snap, ringing across the houses walls; at least some sound could be perceived from this lifeless place.
Her shadow travelled up those steps, gliding as some obscene spectre on the border of life and death. She caressed her wrists, keeping a close eye on the changing sky. It was dead blue, becoming black. Soon the sun would reveal an unwelcome period; where the skies would become austere and void. The girl dreaded these days' she felt numb to the world. No sensation. No colour. No delight. The planet looked asleep on these days, offering nothing to ignite. It was just blank.
The girl's obsession with the sky seemed somehow linked to her insistent pacing of the house. Nothing else appeared to happen in the world. She made movement and life herself, keeping her eyes away from the cold outdoors and towards the rooms; they almost provided warmth and solace against the entire world.
The girl reached the first room, taking care to step carefully on the richly woven carpet with her frail feet. The floor did not creak and there was no sound of strain as she paced the warm room. It was a child's room. She saw beautiful murals of hazy blue skies with bright colourful balloons adorning the walls. It had a soft and milky smell to it. A dainty mobile hung in the air, completely oblivious to everything beyond the walls of that room. But the room was dark, like all of the house' This is where she came to cry. She would sit on the thick, sort carpet, and mutely weep to the room, telling it of all her fears. The room would sit still' listening.
She lived in the attic, dusty, dim and decaying. The floors groaned as she walked in and a powdery substance dropped from the walls. A small skylight would let in the murky sun; she would sigh, and desire to be warm. But the room had always been cold, breath becoming visible in a moment. It would float thickly through the air keeping itself sustained by the overwhelmingly low temperature, and drift away, existing for what seemed like forever. Her odium for it was devastating.
The girl travelled to the bathroom where she found a stainless steel tub with feet reminiscent of that of a lion. She always felt as if it would someday pick itself up and walk right out of this place. How she longed to do the same.
The room was, like so many before, cold. Bathing in here was a chore as the fixtures would bite into the flesh with a startling resonance. It felt as though the room may become so cold that her skin would stick to whatever it touched.
At this time the space was without light. On the tiled walls was a red liquid, which sauntered threateningly down the pallid expanse. Beneath the girls' prim outfit, blood dripped and stained the starchy cotton, its intense tint seeping into the fabric. It was temperate and welcoming, a tender kiss of existence to the harsh atmosphere which surrounded her.
Outside was growing lighter and a scolding white sun began to appear on the horizon. Rays of brightness created themselves over the wet, dewy fields, leaving consciousness behind them. A quiet lamb lay on the ground, bleating for its mother. As the light swept over the land, she was seen running towards her child, every stride a pledge of her love.
Back in the house a girl sat, her arms draped over the edge of the bathtub. They were seeping a red substance, drops running over her hands and trickling off her fingertips. Her fingers were trembling with agony and joy, they were like a dolls'. Delicate structure marred by a glaring ruddiness. Glazy eyes staring to the heavens, yearning to be wanted. Craving love.
Finally, the life left her. Her face dropped and wrists ceased quivering. She was motionless for a moment. Then she slumped on the cold floor, her arms still oozing over her porcelain form. It continued to flow as this girl remained alone. Nobody came running to save her. Not one person approached her aid. She was left to fend for herself. Without another.
The world was awakening as winter ended itself. New buds opened slowly, waiting for the sun to shine on them. Melted ice drizzled off trees and roofs. And tiny creatures shook themselves, ready to begin a fresh beginning.
She was able to see it, and became overcome with energy and delight. Her face could be seen, blushing with freedom. Her dewy eyes marvelled at the world in its full subsistence. Her body was immersed in bliss. As if a warm blanket had covered her in peaceful sleep. As if the whole earth was acknowledging her. As if the best part of her life was her death.
The house remained for something other. Tacitly waiting as the world around began to shine with radiance. The house sat; waiting for its next victim; quietly pondering its next step. Inside was dim, closed off to the world. With all curtains shut tight, hiding its bloody secrets.