Sacrifice -Prologue-

June 3, 2013 in bestservedsoup, Sacrifice -ongoing- by BestServedSoup

She seemed to sparkle, her features shining in a way I would never see anywhere else. Beautiful brown hair bristling as she drifted past me at the crossroads. Time seemed to stop. It seemed to halt in the midst of the cherry perfume that lingered at the tip of my nose. I remember. She wore red that day, as reminiscent as the traffic light that flickered to the same cherry colour, causing thousands of cars to blaze their horns at me as I stood there with her. That’s why I remember it so well. The red was vivid, distinguished. It was majestic.

She had dark sunglasses on that day, and she hid herself with a minimal amount of makeup. But I could make out that pretty face of hers from even a mile away.

After all, she was the only one. My one and only.

She was the one whom I saw in my dreams every night. She was the only one who lit the darkness that had long engulfed my life. I remember how life used to be. A drawl of words and rules, of what should be and what shouldn’t. When I met her, I realised that in the world, all that really mattered was raw emotion.

I remember the expressions of the crowd around me as I grabbed the woman and, for a moment, caressed this beautiful goddess in my own arm. I remember the remarkably hazel eyes, the look of surprise plastered to her face. Her skin, even as I closely observed, was unbelievably serene. She was gorgeous.

Did she remember the time we had spent in the countryside together? I can recall. I had held her a bit like this.

I remember, she would rouse me each morning to the 4th Movement of the New World Symphony. She seemed to like that. We would dance. Oh, what a dramatic orchestration.

She was too precious a flower to let go and to be allowed for mankind’s pollution to corrupt. I would do anything if it would mean to capture her heart for the many moons to past, to free her from the world’s subjugation.

And on that day, Sunday; I did just that.

The memories of the sharp knife I held are returning to me. I can recall how it personified the honesty I felt about her. The anguish, the despair, and the love. It was my heart, firm and steady in my hand, and I remember as I plunged it into hers, sealing both her fate and mine.

I remember pulling her close to me, in front of the blaring cars and gasping people, with screams of shock and aghast ringing from the sidewalks. For a moment it felt like the story of Cain and Abel, and true enough, I knew I would become the cursed murderer of the place.

I released the knife embedded the woman’s chest, held her cheeks in both my hands and cupped my exasperated lips over hers. Though she could not react to it, I kissed her with every part of my being.

We’d be together, forever.