The silence seemed to devour her, like an invisible force pressing upon her from every conceivable angle, crushing her. The weight of this force made it seem as if there was no air in the room. A deep breath did not result in the usual refreshing inhalation of crisp air. Joseline was being slowly choked by this deadly, malignant energy. Her bedroom had the atmospheric consistency of toxic waste sludge. To walk across the room, from the damp antique wardrobe to the barren makeup table and piano stool, felt like walking underwater. She had to push steadily against the thick smog that lay heavy in the room like a congealed cloud. There was a potent scent of stale smoke lingering in the room. Her restless nights of chain smoking had left an indent within the confines of her sleepless chambers. The dirty sheets were raggedly crumpled atop the bed where leather bound books were tossed without care. For hours, sometimes days, she would sit wearily at the edge of her bed. In these catatonic states she would occasionally stir – sifting around the room for a match and her maroon cigarette holder – then return, like a broken clock, to her seat to stare melancholically out of the cracks in the poorly boarded-up windows.
Her figure is awkwardly twisted like a coiled spring pushed down, awaiting its release that never fully comes. Years of such tension have crippled her skeletal form. And yet, despite the aged wrinkles carved into her once delicate cheeks, there is a wistful youthfulness to her; a sense of childlike innocence hidden amongst the scars of decay in her aura. At once anyone whose gaze falls upon her is instantaneously revulsed by her sickness and drawn in by the solemn reminder that she was once a child, pure and sweet. The youthful quality that exudes from her eyes gives one a heavy heart at the sight of her morbidly rotting facial features. To look upon her is to be implored to feelings of disgust and maternal affection.
These were the thoughts of the man who looked upon her as she opened her front door. His movements were frenzied, like a hose bulging with water, the pressure rising within his coiled muscles, twisting around his fragile bones like a python slowly weakening its prey. Through the silent desperation in his eyes, Joseline saw the faint glow of despair as his gaze darted furiously around the room. His strange and aching limbs spasmed with such weary ecstasy that the deep waters of his soul were never still enough to see through. A piercing look into his naked mind revealed nothing but abstraction, moving images, shadows of erratic emotions fizzing and sparkling within the turmoil, as if dancing to the mad music of his mind.
He could instantly sense the difference in Joseline. Her eyes – that once could dazzle anyone, piercing the darkest depths of their souls with a halo of radiant glitter – were now dull and lifeless; like the sun, drained of its warm and bright hues, leaving only a vague semblance of vacant life, appearing to him like a hollow imitation of what once was.
Her barren house had grown accustomed to the stillness of her somnolent movements and so the damp walls and feeble floorboards creaked and groaned in protest of this stranger’s fervour. His rapid fidgeting also made Joseline uneasy and she was already anxious for him to leave as she led him through the hall, despite his having travelled a great distance to meet with her once more. Her body language oozed discomfort so much so that he could sense unease tinged within the dense atmosphere of the once regal and elegant hall. Both their presence were bound by obligation, an awkward feeling of duty somehow, and as a result an invisible cage was constructed around their trembling spirits. In the moments of silence, that had ensued since his entry, they both felt a looming and cavernous distance between them; which their haunted minds filled with the bittersweet memories of their once delicate intimacy. Four decades had passed since they had held one another in their firm and youthful arms, daydreaming of the glorious days they thought lay ahead of them; alas, fate had other plans.
Short Story by Stamos Mardou