I lay down under an olive tree. The breeze washes over me. It has been three days since I've heard the true story.
It is strange because no story has ever affected me in such a way. Maybe it was the fact that it was Paris who had told me the story.
But what was done was done and those who suffered had suffered and those who'd died had died. There is nothing I can do about it.
Paris, it was clear had never told anybody the truth in years or so. I have to say that I am honored to have heard it from him. But I still hated him.
I could not explain it. I had no pity for his terrible fate.
I then proceeded back to Madame Aldara's house where some women of the village were getting ready for tonight's festival. There was cooking everywhere.
We cooked for the rest of the afternoon and come late afternoon, they all proceeded to get ready and beautify themselves. I didn't bother to. Nobody bothered me about it either.
I went home as they were beginning to get ready.
Nobody was home, not even Paris who had started to befriend my father and Cyril. They were all probably doing their part for the festival.
I paced around my empty room. I sat down on the bed and closed my eyes. In my mind, for some strange reason, my mother appeared. She, unlike me, was beautiful And she, unlike me, was dead.
I imagined her soft laughter echoing through the house like it used to. I imagined her voice singing those songs she used to sing. She told me she sang those songs a lot when she was young and had just fallen in love with father.
I cried. Then, as if it wasn't imagination I felt her arms encircle around me and wiping my tears. I sang one of her songs.
'Why do I feel the need to hold you?
I have suffered love so new
So true'
And so I went on singing. Just then, I remembered something. I went to the trunk at the foot of my bed. All my mother's belongings were there.
I took out the dress she wore when she met my father at this same festival. It was of blue and green silks that shimmered.
I put kohl on my eyes and I let my hair down. I placed a veil over my head. I took one of the brass pans from the kitchen and eyed my self in it.
For a moment, I thought that I was looking at my mother's ghost.
I was late for the festival. The women were dancing for the men. It was outdoors and a blazing fire was burning it the middle of it all. Music could be heard and played everywhere.
I spotted Cyril and I walked over covering the lower half of my face with my veil. He was staring at the woman he loved. She held her child in her arms and she would glance back guiltily at him as well. They knew that they were both in love but refused to admit it. I sat down beside him. He didn't recognize me.
"Cyril, It's me, Ara" I said, revealing my face. He still didn't recognize me. Maybe it was the way the light of the fire played with me.
"Ara?" he managed to say. "Where did you get that dress?" he added.
"It used to be my mother's." I whispered back.
He let out a boyish laugh, "Since when did you care to dress for occasion?" he asked.
"I don't know what came over me. But whatever you are thinking, this is for my mother." I said.
Soon, my father joined us. He was also surprised at my appearance but suddenly; his face was filled with sadness. He remembered my mother.
"Ara, your mother's ghost has possessed you tonight." My father said. He kissed my forehead and told me I was beautiful. They were making a big deal out of this.
But I couldn't blame them. A lot of people didn't recognize me as well. To my surprise, a few men asked me to dance with them. Even married ones.
I refused.
I spotted Paris in a corner. He was with two beautiful women who were both trying to catch his attention. He didn't bother to flirt back. He then excused himself and tore away from them.
Madame Aldara, surprisingly, recognized me and told me to serve the wine. She also told me not to dress like that. I was making all the women jealous. I served the wine. Some men called for their cups to be refilled only to get my attention. When I cast them a look, they stopped 'trying'.
I was a strong girl. I did not play those kind of games.
Just then, Paris called to me. He was a few meters away but he recognized me and called my name. I stopped serving the wine and went to him.
"Ara, there's something I want to tell you." He said. He took my hand in his and I didn't protest.
He walked me towards a small hill. It was quiet and we could see the whole festival before us.
He motioned me to sit down with him. We sat there in silence for a moment watching the celebration. Then, He put an arm around me and brought me to the ground. He kissed me softly. "Oh, Ara." He moaned. Then he began to transfer down my neck and continued saying my name in passionate whispers and moans.
This whole time I was struggling to get out. I finally gathered enough strength to push him away. I stood up.
"What are you doing!" I almost said in a scream.
He backed away too. For a moment, it was as if he had just realized what he had attempted to do.
"I'm sorry. I've never done that to any woman in years since . . .since . . ." then, he suddenly broke into tears. It was Helen.
I knelt down beside him and patted his back. "She's happy now. But she will always love you." I said.
I didn't want to comfort him but for the first time, I pitied him.
"Will you ever forgive me?" he said in between his sobs.
I looked into the sky.
"Maybe not." I said. Then I took his hand in mine and we walked back home.
He settled himself in my bed and quickly fell asleep. I tore of my mother's dress and washed my face. I got into my sleeping robes.
Before I went to sleep in Cyril's room, I checked on him in my room.
He was awake. "I feel so lonely, Ara." He whispered in the dark.
"Me too." I said.
I sat by my mother's trunk and fell asleep there.
It is strange because no story has ever affected me in such a way. Maybe it was the fact that it was Paris who had told me the story.
But what was done was done and those who suffered had suffered and those who'd died had died. There is nothing I can do about it.
Paris, it was clear had never told anybody the truth in years or so. I have to say that I am honored to have heard it from him. But I still hated him.
I could not explain it. I had no pity for his terrible fate.
I then proceeded back to Madame Aldara's house where some women of the village were getting ready for tonight's festival. There was cooking everywhere.
We cooked for the rest of the afternoon and come late afternoon, they all proceeded to get ready and beautify themselves. I didn't bother to. Nobody bothered me about it either.
I went home as they were beginning to get ready.
Nobody was home, not even Paris who had started to befriend my father and Cyril. They were all probably doing their part for the festival.
I paced around my empty room. I sat down on the bed and closed my eyes. In my mind, for some strange reason, my mother appeared. She, unlike me, was beautiful And she, unlike me, was dead.
I imagined her soft laughter echoing through the house like it used to. I imagined her voice singing those songs she used to sing. She told me she sang those songs a lot when she was young and had just fallen in love with father.
I cried. Then, as if it wasn't imagination I felt her arms encircle around me and wiping my tears. I sang one of her songs.
'Why do I feel the need to hold you?
I have suffered love so new
So true'
And so I went on singing. Just then, I remembered something. I went to the trunk at the foot of my bed. All my mother's belongings were there.
I took out the dress she wore when she met my father at this same festival. It was of blue and green silks that shimmered.
I put kohl on my eyes and I let my hair down. I placed a veil over my head. I took one of the brass pans from the kitchen and eyed my self in it.
For a moment, I thought that I was looking at my mother's ghost.
I was late for the festival. The women were dancing for the men. It was outdoors and a blazing fire was burning it the middle of it all. Music could be heard and played everywhere.
I spotted Cyril and I walked over covering the lower half of my face with my veil. He was staring at the woman he loved. She held her child in her arms and she would glance back guiltily at him as well. They knew that they were both in love but refused to admit it. I sat down beside him. He didn't recognize me.
"Cyril, It's me, Ara" I said, revealing my face. He still didn't recognize me. Maybe it was the way the light of the fire played with me.
"Ara?" he managed to say. "Where did you get that dress?" he added.
"It used to be my mother's." I whispered back.
He let out a boyish laugh, "Since when did you care to dress for occasion?" he asked.
"I don't know what came over me. But whatever you are thinking, this is for my mother." I said.
Soon, my father joined us. He was also surprised at my appearance but suddenly; his face was filled with sadness. He remembered my mother.
"Ara, your mother's ghost has possessed you tonight." My father said. He kissed my forehead and told me I was beautiful. They were making a big deal out of this.
But I couldn't blame them. A lot of people didn't recognize me as well. To my surprise, a few men asked me to dance with them. Even married ones.
I refused.
I spotted Paris in a corner. He was with two beautiful women who were both trying to catch his attention. He didn't bother to flirt back. He then excused himself and tore away from them.
Madame Aldara, surprisingly, recognized me and told me to serve the wine. She also told me not to dress like that. I was making all the women jealous. I served the wine. Some men called for their cups to be refilled only to get my attention. When I cast them a look, they stopped 'trying'.
I was a strong girl. I did not play those kind of games.
Just then, Paris called to me. He was a few meters away but he recognized me and called my name. I stopped serving the wine and went to him.
"Ara, there's something I want to tell you." He said. He took my hand in his and I didn't protest.
He walked me towards a small hill. It was quiet and we could see the whole festival before us.
He motioned me to sit down with him. We sat there in silence for a moment watching the celebration. Then, He put an arm around me and brought me to the ground. He kissed me softly. "Oh, Ara." He moaned. Then he began to transfer down my neck and continued saying my name in passionate whispers and moans.
This whole time I was struggling to get out. I finally gathered enough strength to push him away. I stood up.
"What are you doing!" I almost said in a scream.
He backed away too. For a moment, it was as if he had just realized what he had attempted to do.
"I'm sorry. I've never done that to any woman in years since . . .since . . ." then, he suddenly broke into tears. It was Helen.
I knelt down beside him and patted his back. "She's happy now. But she will always love you." I said.
I didn't want to comfort him but for the first time, I pitied him.
"Will you ever forgive me?" he said in between his sobs.
I looked into the sky.
"Maybe not." I said. Then I took his hand in mine and we walked back home.
He settled himself in my bed and quickly fell asleep. I tore of my mother's dress and washed my face. I got into my sleeping robes.
Before I went to sleep in Cyril's room, I checked on him in my room.
He was awake. "I feel so lonely, Ara." He whispered in the dark.
"Me too." I said.
I sat by my mother's trunk and fell asleep there.