A Mirror of Thy Sin
By the simple, lovesick glow of a lonely oil-lamp, this most sorrowful of scenes unfolded in it's infinite weary melancholy. Aside from this softly flickering light, the room lay eerily dark and still, as though time itself had forgotten it's existence.
Heavy cobwebs hung in ugly clusters from the black corners; weighing down as if holding a terrible burden within their gossamer mass.
It was a black, starless midnight outside the large, finely decorated bay window which overlooked a fine expanse of carefully-tended gardens, with their tulips and primroses spreading out in almost mathematically straight lines. The sturdy, sprawling branches of a sycamore brushed the window slightly in a gentle night breeze, almost as if with tenderness, to soothe the excruciating heart which beat just a few feet away from it's outstretched grasp.
For, encased within the aging stone walls of this most exquisite of houses, in the room which lamented it's own existence, the trembling heart pounded with something more than the triviality of mere love, pain or even agony.
In a luxuriously-lined leather armchair, concealed from sight of the doorway behind a littering of dusty, creaking bookcases, a man sat alone; his senses bloated with that grotesque indulgence of the self, and of the soul.
As he lifted a soft white hand to caress his drooping eyelids, he lifted also a face which would shame the most virtuous of Heaven's glorious angels. In the warm, sensual light of the dimming lamp beside him, his creamy porcelain skin basked in it's own perfection; and his glittering sapphire eyes were creased and laden with the glossy sheen of anguished tears, as lonely and complete as a vast ocean, and infinitely deeper. Lips of full silken scarlet graced his small delicate mouth, which parted with a most alluring subtlety.
His was a beauty as full and unspoilt as never a beauty had been; so marvellous, so mesmerizing that one could not help but to stare in awe as his presence dominated the scene. As he would turn his head, long curled locks of pure gold playing about his cheeks, and flashing a smile which would melt the heart of Lucifer himself, the hearts of everybody in the vicinity would literally miss a beat as they poured their awestruck and jealous praises so generously upon him.
Their jealous praises...
Their jealous praises... that endless spewed flattery from envious, vulgar mouths... How indifferent I was to it all back then...
His own light, silver voice echoed an unwilling soliloquy through his darkened, diseased thoughts; gently pushing him back into the part of his mind he was constantly and desparately trying to escape. The part which delighted in dwelling on the dreadful indecencies of his shameful past; and on the most blasphemous atrocity ever lived by an earthbound soul. It, in itself, was a thing which no amount of implorement or atonement could ever heal; it was too sorrowful and too exquisite to ever hope to be forgiven by Him.
He giveth and he taketh away... Yet the wondrous gift he bestowed upon me shall never be taken. And, in exchange, I know my hideous sins He shall never swallow.
No... He chose to grant this arrogant wish; He leaves those sins to rot instead upon His earth: to stagnate, to decay, and to... remind...
Yes, yes, always to remind. And, in time, everything but my beauty is led down the vile shadowed path of corrpution, to gorge itself sick on the revolting pleasures of the flesh . And by none other than that foolish boy who so willed for such a curse to engulf him utterly and completely...
And what a dreadful tragedy it is...