|
Another morning breaks dawn, another morning alone he wakes. He grabs one of his books, and sits down. When he reads he is reminded how odiously perfect the words he is reading are. They predict, they enthrall, they tell stories and lies. "Baudelaire", He hears but is not bothered. He picks up his book and goes inside, takes a small glove box from the highest shelf, and makes his way over the beach to the rampant nature.
Perched on a protruding rock sits the old man, clad in timeworn linen. In his left hand he holds a lighter and a batch of letters, in his right, his old army pistol. The happiness has made way for thought and reason. He flicks through the letters, picking up the first one, tossing the remaining ones to his side. As tears slowly roll down his cheek, he reads each word, each sentence as if he had never read them before.
"This place is madness, Nicole. Remembered, I am, every day by the sorrow we've bestowed upon each other and the sorrow we've all experienced in this world. You imagine not how strong I long for you my love, for the things I've seen here hurt so much. [...]
Do you remember when we were young, we would live life carelessly, and tackle every burden on our path. Again I must say goodbye, but remember that soon we will be back together.
See you soon, Forever and Always, J.
May 11th, 1940,
Gembloux, Belgium."
Trembling in his hand, the lighter burns away at the letter, until nothing more than charred earth remains at his feet. Letter after letter falls, drowning in the void that is the fire, until but one sheet remains. From the small box he takes a pen, chucks the cap away, and writes.
"So long it has been since I've been able to see you, to feel or hear you. It hurts so much to think that each day I forget more of who you are. Some days I can hardly remember your voice, the clothes you wore, the touch of your hand in mine. Each night I dream and I am tortured, for I know I cannot retrieve what I lost, not even here. Every night I speak to you, I tell you what kept me going, and you listen. I know you always asked me to never give up, but I have fought long and hard in my life, and this is a battle I cannot fathom winning on my own. When we meet again, only then, will I be happy again. All the hardship will be long gone, when my hand will rest in yours again. [...]
See you soon, Forever and Always, J."
Tears pouring down his cheeks, he lays down his pen and throws the letter into the fire. From his left hand, he removes the ring that's been there since forever, and casts it into the sea. Fumbling his hands, he picks up the gun and loads it. He puts it to his head and looks up.
Bang.
"There
are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in
insanity. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to
escape that pain, the mind must leave reality behind."
|
