Reburn

The star rises

Todays dinner was Bouillabaisse, but she did not eat anything. 

She was just sitting there on that chair around that table and stared at the soup on her plate, the spoon tightly clutched in her right fist, staying silent.
Nobody really tried to talk to her because no one was interested in her now.
The story of the day was over for them and she and her bristling glance symbolized them that she had enough for today.
Outside the night has taken over and just in that moment, when the Mille-feuille came, she stood up, turned away and stepped out of the room.
She could not stay there now, in this large salon with that inflated chandelier and the hard expressions on the faces of her relatives.
She could not bear these shadows around them anymore because she was not that dark.
She was not that merciless, not that cruel, not that harsh and also not that strong.
She was more empathic, more kindly, more frank.
Most of citizen, that have had the luck to met her once said that she was just delightful, more than everybody else. That she was unique. That she was just like a spark of hope in the darkness.
But to be like that was pretty dangerous that time in her country.
Being so soft could be very hard, especially when you did not want to change.
She did not want to be like them but she did not think that she was very special because of that.
They tried to change her.
Tried it so many times on so many ways but failed.
Her body was already signed by those scars, it seemed broken sometimes and her soul was also hurt but she was comforted when she walked outside like she did it now.

The night above her head was starry so that she could not count the lights on the sky and the air around her was cold and she shivered because the short, golden dress that she wore did not really keep her warm. Although she knew that she would get a cold it was the only way to avoid those thoughts she got after days like this. It was the only way to calm her down. The only way to keep her safe.
First she just walked down from the stairs of the patio to see their garden.
The roses bloomed that day in their full beauty, colorful, fragile, in pink, red and white.
But these plants wasn't the only once in this wide area.
Her favorite flower, that was blooming now even in this night, was the white Lilium.
She putted on in her hand in a single moment while she was standing there, in front of the flowerbeds and looked at it carefully. She never plucked one of those flowers, because she did not want to destroy this wonderful, fleeting fineness.
She did not stay in the garden for long, because she felt like someone, anyone would call her.
And she followed those whispers.
She trusted them because they tried to help her many times.
Around the property were vast meadows that leaded to a wide, deep blue sea.
This water seemed to be full of her memories when she ran to it and looked at her reflection.
It was full of good memories, and this once was rare.
The most of her memories were painful. The most of them were sad and heartless. The most of them hurt her. The most of them were able to tear her heart apart.
Her hands stroke the tips of the lavender.
Her gait looked prancing and her glance was up to the stars and to the full moon.
For other one she would maybe seemed like an angel or something like that. In this moment she was not human. Not complete. But she would never believed this.
For herself she was a failed person, weak, anxious, uneasy.
A failed person that ran away from everything, even from a simple dinner with her family.
Oh her family...She did not want to say anything against them but...
Now it was like a kind of panic raised in her heart and she begun to run, run fast.

She almost collapsed when she reached the shore of the lake, her fists punched the moist soil under her, the mud tainted the pure gold of her dress but she did not care.
She was just kneeling there, her golden hair hung like a curtain in her face and she stroke it back to look in the water. Her reflection cried and in that moment she realized that she did it also.
She cried not because of the fresh wound on her back, not because no one really understood.
The tears flowed because of this feeling, that broke her fragile heart that seemed to have been made of glass in such moments, when she looked at her cracked self.
She was alone. She was that kind of alone no one could retrace.
It was not a feeling of loneliness, she was used to be left on her own. She was used to be ignored, to be punished, to become hurt, to feel bad.
No. She could not describe it. Her live was a puzzle, she was a puzzle that had lost a part.
And she could not find it. She searched for it all day and all night.
But it was hopeless.
It was so hopeless...She hit the surface of the water and her reflection fade away.
Now she was only able to see the reflection of the moon in the water and she laid her head back to look directly into the dark sky above her.
A little, sad smile appeared on her lips and she let herself fall on the grassy ground, her arms stretched to the sites. They would not search for her. Maybe tomorrow but not now.
She closed her eyes when the fatigue overcame her and a warm feeling caught her heart when the nightlights shone on her milky skin, let her shimmer in the dark.
One day, she was sure about it, she would leave this world to become one of those lights.
One day, when she was stronger, when she was better.
One day, yes...This thought in her head and heart she fell into her dream world.