Fruits of crimson guiltWednesday, September 21, 2011
She wasn't supposed to be here, trapped inside the forest of irresitible temptations. In the moment her feet started moving torwards the glowing warmth of crimson relase, she knew there was no turning back. With each step she was losing her ability to distinguish right from wrong, good from bad, reality from illusion. Nothing will be made undone. There won't be a chance to avoid the regets that will be burned into her skin. The feeling of guilt that will be pourred over her soul was already beginning to crawl under her skin. She covered herself in a veil of naivety, trying to ignore the battle of doubts that was coursing through her mind. Every inch of her body, every single cell was longing for the bittersweet feeling of ease. Her muscles have never been as under control as in those moments. Still, she wanted to believe that everyone of her forward motions was not more than a mechanical movement of her body.
She knew it was not. Neither was her hand reaching for the fruits of crimson guilt.
And when her fingertips touched the tempting berries, a cloud of disappointment surrounded her,
ready to absorb her naive soul. No shivers of release and security were filling her body.
She wasn't being surrounded by the comforting feeling of warmth and ease.
Only by the cold, remorseless reality. She was a llittle girl of blood, skin and bone.
Everything she felt in these seconds was the certainity of being afraid, ashamed and alone.