Dictation To Estella
Dictation to Estella
As long as you have known life you have known this room. This wail of pity from the wind in the forever present silence ; that silence which befriended me long before you became mine. My blackly jewelled past dances before me. Nothing that you can see dare dwell from me. It offers nothing to me but a daunting happiness, for so long I have desired. I know you wish to open those encrusted beings that hand lifelessly from the windows ; you wish to allow the sunlight grace your subtle features. But my dear Estella. They protect me. The protect me from all those who wish to enter, to destroy all I hold close. Estella my dear, my beautiful young women I can never allow that to happen. To you or me. Not again. For this time I fear my heart could not stand such a slaying. As we sit we hear the death cries, piercing the screaming walls of this cell. Circling these guarding walls. Like vultures waiting for prey, waiting for the rest of me to die. So desperate, so hungry, so cannibalistic. You looks at me as though you were the trunks of old that surround us. A mournful stare willing me to continue. But alas my sweet I can not escape my past as you wish. Why do you frown when I mention this? This is all you know. This is all I know. Only you can step into the light, only you see the restless happiness beyond this sanctuary of mine. You can see what we may one day have. Or may could have had. But I cower. I am afraid, you may wish for what you want. For me and for you. But only you can wish such treacherous things. Such disatourous things that I still shroud myself from. My memories. These memories that could easily be yours. I see that this too confuses you. I believe you to be old enough now my dear. I shall tell you about that day. The day I gave myself to this vortex of despair. Settle down my sweet, you will need to.
The cathedral bells sang to itself. Merrily rejoicing the happiness that is too be bestowed upon me on this day –I become a high stature in society this day. The atmosphere only disrupted by the echoing rumbles that roll toward us across the moors, from the pitiful town beyond my grasp. For it now held my future life, my happiness that has called for so long. But for now I shall sit in this chair, that for so long I have thought of as my throne, and allow it's luscious velvet to comfort my soft skin, the pleasantly golden sun gently roasting the elated crowd beneath my feet. I bask in this menacing, overwhelming sense of excitement. The flowers waltz in the wind. The petals softly stroking the weed less garden, swinging side to side in the sickly sweet aroma that glides through this small kingdom of mine. Again laughter and happiness is interrupted. The foreboding loom of clouds threaten this day. I draw my attention away form this threat and onto more pressing issues; like this shoe hard in my hand, rough against my smoothness, its shape ridged in its mould. The cascading velvet waterfall licked upward in the increasing wind. It was drawing closer. The storm was near. A hollow knock interrupts this fancy. I look toward the grand oak door as it opens. All else falls blind to my gaze as the bodiless letter floats toward my. I can smell his stench, his markings, it makes my nostrils burn. Something is wrong. I can taste the bitterness of it all in my mouth. In my heart. In my soul. All of this before his script falls into my lap. It falls open at it's creases. The deep cavernous creases that wish me to join them in darkness. The words lurch from the page. The storm has arrived. The lightening pierces the manors defences. My screams falling deaf as my world caves around me. The apocalypse has fallen upon my. And darkness takes the reigns.
The paper crumples feebly in my worn hands. What once was soft and delicate is now rough and taut. So much has changed, but his odour remains the same. Aggravating the grievance I live by. No matter how hard I try his spoilt smell haunts my waking moments. Estella, how can I stop you gazing at me like a show-piece. How can I silence the mutterings under your breath. Your eyes are like looking glasses – pale blue and reflective, reflective of what you feel. You can not hide from me my sweet. I know all. I see the connection, the dim unpaved path that connects us is clear to me. You see me a broken women. You see me a figure of insanity in a world of the sane. But Estella you are in my world now and nothing is sane in this world. Nothing at all. I see me, I see myself reflected in your eyes. I see your future. You are one whom is too swindle the swine ; curse the swine for all they own ; wrangle all revolting evidence of there existence. You see Estella, my rose, the swine broke me. The tore my heart in two. Stripped me of my humanity, flamed my soul and left the bitter, rotting remains to spoil and rot in a bath of insanity. The swine that dare to call themselves men. But to me they are nothing more or nothing less than lowly life-forms. They are the bugs that are powerless to my crushing blows. They spread disease. They infect us all, they spoil themselves and us. And now you shall spoil them. You can exterminate them.
You may plead my sweet. Plead that the boy you hunger for is none of the… of the swine. You may bow before me sobbing. But you are my messenger. And you have a message to deliver
You grasp upon me is released as you flee the room. The graveyard before my feet disturbed by your tears. But never mind that. They are no stranger to them. The flashing lightning and the rumbling thunder draw my conscious to the looking glass before me. The cracked looking glass that reflects my betrayal. Torn images tautly mock me. The being I once was departing with the howling wind. Leaving nothing but this decaying shell. The shell I was returning gazes with as I speak. For only it can understand the torture, the tormenting darkness and the loneliness. Only it can understand. SMASH. My trembling hand crushes the weakened glass. I can not bear the loo. I never wanted this. The darkness. I never wanted any of this. It stained me with it's burden. It creeps amongst the adopted spirits of my past. It preys upon my weaknesses. It protects the bastard Compeyson. It shades it's son. I can feel the sour liquid that pulses through me dripping through the creases of my fist. It falls upon the letter. Spoiling its appearance more than I could ever dream of. It ripples through the ink stained puce. It echoes my thoughts. Memories pulsate thorough me . Sending shockwaves to my heart. Broken beyond repair. The feelings. Oh gosh the feelings. I was afraid. I was angry. I was furious. NO. No I am infuriated, incensed. Blinded by the flames of fury that any one being can effect such a powerful force. The paper curls beneath my grasp, mocking my weakness. Its laughter stabbing at my ears like knives to my soul. Slashing the defences of my lone mind. It's cackling relentless it hovers amongst the flames. Licking at its rejection. The past memories emblazoned into my closed lids. They die as many of my dreams had. This strength I had found leaked through my wounds, my grip lacks strength and the letter flutters to the graveyard below. The screaming underworld screams in rejection as the weight is placed upon its shoulders.
I am all powerful. I can end this. I can. I can. Part of me resents this. Resents what I have become. But a stronger part basks in it's glory. It has tasted the darkness. It controls me. I am the puppet it controls me it is the puppeteer. It leers at me and all I can do in return is howl. The smell of life beckons me over to where Estella stands. The trees shading her from the heating sun. But Compeyson has control. He always has. He stands holding the chains. Locking me in the darkness. I run. I follow in the steps my sweet left behind her in the mass of rot and death. The rain distastefully tests the acidic waters. It hisses at me as I walk. My flaming steps smouldering the wailing floor. Candle light offers a sanctuary from my never-ending night, nothing can survive in this house. It abandons it's hope. It dies before me. My spoilt air suffocating it's gentle ways. It leaves me with nothing but the portraits of my past to revel in the displeasure that one day I will have to join them in the ranks of dead Havishams. The house creaks around me. Channelling the whispers that challenge me. The voices creep toward me. Poking its desires at me. It wishes me to remember. I refuse. Once again I refuse. I pass room upon room in this darkened palace. This best friend of mine. It protects me. Like all friends should. It protects me all the way to my stronghold. Where I stand regretful. At the barred doorway of my life. I don't understand.
I don't understand why I can not fulfil all I want to fulfil. Why can I not be normal. Why? Because I am bitten – I am spoiled and helpless to its infection. That is why. It prunes me all it likes. It can entangle this mess that sits aloft my head. I can turn me into a gargoyle that guards this kingdoms. Protecting it from the light. It can make me its daughter. For the world to me is nothing more that darkness. Nothing but the dying flames that I have envied for so long, licking the wretched air. Living upon my life-force it has grown to require. It lives of me. Yet it can do what I can not. It can fight the darkness. It can die…
4
Jess Finnin 10-ES-A