A breath away from life (ONC2024)

I. Little bird

Snow blankets the earth, whipped and whisked by the winds, as I remain unmoving, not a single breath leaving me. I smile with a hint of mockery, knowing that I will always be but a breath away from life.

Never again will I taste the wild breeze or the bitterness of smoke from a roaring hearth. It’s something that I dare not hope or dream of. Instead, I am left with nothing more than a smouldering wish and an insignificant yearning, where hope is suffocated.

Even as I gaze past my reflection, seeing my beauty so similar to others, untouched by time, I'm reminded of a frozen rose, lovely to gaze upon, but ultimately uselessly ornamental. The once velvet softness deathly cold to the touch, the purpose to grow and bloom now hollow in every sense. Even the snow-capped mountains, that shine with their own respective strength, change more than I. I've lost count of the number of times that I've stood gazing at their steadfast beauty.

Self reflection seems almost vapid, but it fills me with self-loathing rather than a conceited vanity. How I fell so swiftly in love; a love that refused to leave me, even as I stand here now. What I would not give to rid myself of the vile feeling. My own powerlessness fills me with a bitterness hard to break, unlike my heart, which is so sorely shattered. Yet I remain tethered to him, a black-hearted beauty, so poisonous.

Turning away from the untamed wilderness so pure, I swallow my sneer at the longing to return to my innocent maidenhood. Reminding myself that I was the one who gifted it so gladly to an unworthy soul.

“Soul...” I smile in bitterness, “as if either of us has one...”

“Kasper...” My voice softly echoes as I hear his creeping steps and leering presence, nearing me.

“You called?” His grating tone slithers over my shoulders, like an unwanted groping hand.

I would kill him, but I know that another lurking presence will simply replace him, courtesy of that lowdown snake, currently curled around another slow to leave lover, in his palace in Deeping valley. At least I no longer have to gaze upon his monstrous beauty. No, I endure my love for him from a distance, shackled by isolation. As though my own heart is sealed by his love, refusing to waver even under the unrelenting hatred that I pour into the waves breaking upon its walls.

“Mistress?”

My eyes narrow at his seeking tone. “I'm leaving.” I turn without a glance in his direction. I know he enjoys my torment as much as his master, and that awareness feeds the coldness within me, whenever it begins to falter. Weakness is for those well-loved and trusting, for they can allow themselves such generosity. Until they're betrayed, of course.

The sweeping of my skirts accompanies me as I leave, moving swiftly in silence except for the gentle rustle of my lavish dress. I wear it with disdain now, even though once it was my joy. A gift from my mother. It now represents a life I gave up, only to squander it on a false and fleeting happiness. Slipping into my cloak, I raise the hood, carefully tucking in a few loose mahogany waves. The familiar woven basket sits at my feet, scattered with stray greenery from another outing. Even as I reach for the basket, settling it on the crook of my elbow, I can feel Kasper’s eyes studying me.

“I’ll return before darkness.” And if not, it means that I am dead. I know that there are plenty of the aristocracy and even some of the villagers (that refuse my services) who wish me an untimely death.

“I should be so lucky...”

Stepping outside my whisper dissipates, the coldness that would chill another to the bone, only embraces me in a familiar welcome. Taking the same scattered path once heavily snow laden, I watch the frozen landscape, listening to the sounds that occasionally break the stillness. Birdsong from miles away, and the almost silent melodies of nature that are only noticeable to those like myself. Even though I can no longer savour the fresh mountain air, the act of gathering healing herbs is one of the few moments of genuine feeling that I allow myself. Do I have any genuine feelings left, apart from hate? It’s a question that I always leave unanswered, whether afraid or simply no longer interested, I refuse to delve too deeply.