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I'm out of the World, Marian
- Lady Ronit
- Dec 21, 2024
- 3 min read
There will be no more dew; for the last time, a gentle mist sprays me in a delicate stream. There’s no more soap; it’s over, we’re out of the World, Marian. It’s the end, I’m out of the World. Marian, put down the clock, you’ve nothing left to count. I want to be alone; everyone, leave me be.
I hate human company, everyone smiles at me, hoping slyly to use me. I don’t believe in people or in their good intentions. Somewhere by the door, Marian’s prowling around. The same Marian, for so, so many years. He knocks, he rings, but I can’t hear. It’s over, Marian; you never existed for me, you were never alive. Choke on your wretched clock and vanish, chase everyone else away along the way. Today, I don’t exist for anyone.
The cursed hallway stretches on, with walls that prop up crowds of people instead of columns. A false friend, and another one beside her. Dressed up like jesters in the finest costumes. Behind them, a few meters away, someone’s childhood memories. Someone threw a torn ball and a broken jump rope beneath my window. Broken. You know what they say in such a case? If the little goat hadn’t jumped, it wouldn’t have broken its leg. A cliché. All of it right across from the open window. Someone jumped. Farther than the flies beyond the windowsill.
I sit on this white windowsill, marble, and what do I see? Somewhere in the corner, a crumbling skeleton of a night moth and two poisoned flies by the grout. I reach for some paper, gently wrapping the insects, like in a shroud. Every monster deserves a burial. I sit in the window, sticking one leg out.
I jump.
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