Winter
I’m not scared: I’m just cold. I can see lights in somebody’s windows. I can
see small men jump out from their windows. They fly past other windows and crash
on the ground. The snow has turned red. It’s so funny to play gods of lives –
your own and somebody else’s. Everyone has the right to murder and be murdered.
And I’m just like any other girl in the world. There was a time when I lay in a
hot bath with slashed wrists, or when I took handfuls of sleepy pills, or when I
was trying to make a clumsy noose. I flirted with Death, but nothing happened.
I can hear the alarm signals of ambulance cars. Huh. I don’t think they will
succeed.
The fire grows greater. My eyes sparkle.
I’d better shut the window: it’s winter, the wind is chilling. My parents’
funeral was also in winter, on a day like today. This is the worst time for
grave digging. Sometimes I visit my parents’ grave: I like to feel myself
strong.
I take out my pictures. I want to remember everything...
When a child, I loved to hang my dolls by their necks. So silly: dolls aren’t
alive. I also loved to watch rabbits slaughtered for dinner. My little heart
throbbed with delight.
My schoolmates hated me: they probably felt the danger. I remember silly girls
and crazy boys.
I remember HIM. Everyone called that love. I haven’t the slightest idea of what
they meant by that. My first experience was great: his body was never found.
They are trying to stop the fire. But I don’t think they’ll save anyone.
There were many things afterwards: the prom, the gowns, the wine. And in the
morning they found her hanged my the neck in the bathroom. She was simply too
gorgeous.
It all seemed too small to me, too trivial. I wanted something better. Something
greater. Like this fire. It’s quite huge, but it’s still not enough. And I don’t
think there will be anything greater...
Here, it’s already 2 a.m. Better late than never. I know a better way. I’m my
own mistress now. No one can stop me. It’s simple, since there’s no one left.
Have there been anyone? I’ve nobody to confess to and nobody to ask for
forgiving me. I don’t regret anything. They shouldn’t think I don’t love people.
A gunshot.
Silence.
Copyright by Offbabe (2002).