a beautiful mortality
. helium lost .
Author's Notes: Sparknotes opened my eyes to the beauty and romance of Wide Sargasso Sea that I had too quickly glossed over while struggling with annoyance at the writing style. But, after attempting to stay true to the writing style… I realized that it, too, contributed to the beauty. So, here's a small tribute to Wide Sargasso Sea, an attempt to capture some of that beauty.
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Blue, tranquil blue, the color of a brittle winter sky and the color of sparkling ocean water, the color of hydrangeas and the color of a drowned woman's cold, bloated face.
There was a forest once, a forest with canopies hanging down like moss, the dry rug of leaves and twigs crackling under my feet. And somewhere in the middle of the forest, there was a waterfall. The water tumbled down over the slick, slippery rocks like hell rolling over from a tear in the sky, tossing a fine layer of mist over the clearing so that it felt as if I was looking through fog.
A crow cried overhead and I looked up into the sky, the sun brilliant and blazing overhead but I couldn't see it, not with this canopy of moss and long, dark limbs entwined over my head. And when I reached up and tried to part those limbs, butterflies fluttering around me and dropping dead with their own brilliance, I found that my fingers couldn't touch, couldn't even scrape by that cover; they were only being suffocated and pulled down by that mist and fog, flowers wilting and flies buzzing, covering me and enveloping me until I was nothing more than a wriggling mass of black bodies, pumping against me and chafing against each other until all was gone.
And when I opened my eyes again, cleared of the writhing and the free of the feel of opalesque, iridescent bodies, the window was open, the curtains billowing in the gentle night breeze, the wicker chair pressing hard against my back.
It was quiet, almost too quiet, and the stars were sparkling, as if hiding what they had to say.
She lay on the bed wearing her red dress. I saw her curves through the fabric, saw her eyes half-open. She was dreaming a waking dream, with her breath escaping her parted lips in soft puffs. And as she blinked and opened her eyes fully, the flush came to her cheeks; she pushed herself up onto her elbows and looked at me. Our eyes met and I felt her urgency, felt her groveling in my presence.
Funny how a simple look could disturb me so much, jostle me out of my stillness, and fill me with thirst for her. In a second, I was beside her, pulling her slim body into my arms.
"Die." I whispered the word into her ear, my arms crawling over her and my lips cradled by the curve of her neck. I heard her moan, and reveled in it. "Die for me."
And, with the sound of stars screaming and exploding, she died.
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Author's Notes: Loved it? Hated it? Let me know, and drop me some feedback, particularly constructive criticism. Thanks!
