Lilac Love

I see off a hot summer, a rainy autumn passes by, and, like a heavy downpour, a frosty winter flies by, and the lilac is still standing in my cracked old vase. Does not fade, does not fall, does not even bloom. It stands in the "nine-month water", without complaining or reproaching. I can hear how she laughs, how she laughs quietly, shedding tears at the same time, when I cannot find a flower with five petals to make a cherished wish. She always says that she wants the sea... from lilac, from her friends: white and burgundy. She is definitely bored here alone. Sad and dreary.

Quiet waves, a beautiful sunset, seagulls fly by the sea - that's all she wants - I bloom with youth: a soul with eyes like two grains of bitter coffee; with long hair, the color of cocoa in your mug; moles, arranged as if under a ruler, on round cheeks; black eyebrows, like a girl on the cover of a centennial magazine.

A new time has come - an insanely warm spring, or rather a scorching, almost summer month of May. Lilacs are blooming outside, but not purple ones. She must have been seriously ill: without a smile on her face, she is trying to say at least a word in parting. Her last two remarks were the same ones that split the hell and Hades let out a boiling tear that burned his skin: "It hurts me, what happened? Am I dead?"

The white lilac immediately responded, trying to drown out the feeling of fear of a pale death: "Be patient, violet, be patient."

Everyone is afraid of her. She appeared in the form of an eagle that was drawn like a cloud in a calm blue sky.

Time is up and the pain is gone. She closed her sad eyes... now forever. The question arose: so where did she end up: in a white paradise or in a black hell, covered with evil, sadness and longing?

Opening her eyes, the lilac saw the high waves of the sea, instead of sand, kilometers of burgundy lilac spread like petals. She bent down, taking a handful in her hands, whispering the words without a brilliant smile on her face. She was already bored, but there was no way out. Everything went into the distance, drawing the image of infinity. Lilac caught the smell of her death, but bad luck: “Where am I now? It's like paradise here, the dream has come true, but why does it hurt so much inside?

She felt blood from her fingers, which flowed in thin strips down her neck from her ears from the sounds of such noisy water. Her eyes hurt, as if they were gouged out by a sharp dagger of insanely beautiful brilliant sea waves. Her soul died, she felt it, because she appeared in front of her. I was standing by the sea - the same girl who loved water and wanted to be a mermaid: to beckon guys, dragging them into the depths of the ocean; singing beautifully, charmingly shooting brown eyes: combing long hair, as if stolen from Rapunzel; meet Poseidon and fall in love with his son Percy; quarrel with Ariel over a handsome, stately prince; make friends with Ursula and become her enemy; die as a human and choke on cursed water.

But I'm already dead.

Why? Why am I the lilac that stood on my table? This happens only in paradise, but I did not know the answer to the question that tormented me.

The soul turned its head to the right, and I followed it: there was a picture of my funeral. And near the coffin - the same vase with purple lilacs that silently sobbed, looking into my closed eyes.

Why am I dead? Again this question...

Because she fell. She fell off a cliff, unable to cope with life. She fell in soul, body and heart, which became broken a couple of minutes ago from non-reciprocity. She fell because she lied to the whole world, saying it loudly and proudly: “Everything is fine with me!” She fell because she believed that everything should sometimes be bad. She fell because she wanted to be a mermaid, because the water below beckoned with her blue, heavenly color. She fell becauseshe was betrayed. She fell, having heard enough loud hurting words. She fell, resigned that she will not find love. Fell down so as not to feel the evil feeling of pain.

It feels like a black hell, guarded by a Cerberus. But why am I here?

I went to hell for my sins: for greed, for envy and for dark pride. Anger grew in me not by minutes, but by seconds, destroying the sinful soul. But he has matured not to know what question is on the account: "What the hell am I here for? Why was I thrown into prison for kindness and threefold love for lilacs? What is the circle? Sixth or ninth? Why am I here if I can love? Love is not forgotten by me ... ".

- Because love is not enough, violet! - the soul screams, laughing heart-rendingly.

But is it true? I don't need answers to make me think about it over and over again. While I'm rotting through all the circles of hell, I don't want to think about it for all eternity, trying to find the reason.

And where am I?

My soul is here in front of me. She calls me to come to the alluring sea. I look there and plunge into the water of evil, sadness and longing. I was enveloped in the cause of my death - fear. Perhaps it was pain.

I will come to you again, but now I want water ... Perhaps again it was she - the poisonous cause of my death. The same water from under the lilac, which, as if under hypnosis, made me drink a black potion from the mother of death herself.

When you are dead - you were lied to - you literally forget your whole life, and all that remains is to look into the opened future and at the people below.

Alive.

In the distance I look at the ship. He'll sort of save me, but he's too far away. I'm already being dragged to the bottom by that same mermaid with an emerald tail that I wanted to be. In my form, which made me breathe calmly.

- But how to breathe if I'm dead? - Closing my eyes, I asked.

I open my empty eyes again and see my lilac: without the lilac sea, without loud waves, without that me - quietly, peacefully and without death.

There was a dream...

And is it real again?

If I see him, then does this mean reality? In my dreams, he is like a prisoner of Hell... The same as Hades himself with a mixture of Cerberus. He transports souls and leads them into his circle. Where: I don't know yet.

I'm in a fog with lilac petals, dancing in the fifth circle.

It grabs my face and water flows from my eyes. His hands are like a hot fire, as if it was me who stepped over the line. He himself... He himself violated our rule: not to appear in the human world!

A black cloak is thrown over a naked, pale body - this is a demon, but I am not afraid of him. It is sweet in taste and painful to the touch. My arms twist in pain - he plays with them. I'm like a puppet in the theater, and he's my puppeteer. His hands are on my waist, and I notice a ring: beautiful and gold, with the inscription "Until the end of your days, Anastasia." I am pleased, because this is my name, but why does it hurt so much here, inside. My heart seems to be torn between love and hatred for him, whose name I will keep secret until the end of our eternity, and maybe still until tomorrow (death).

He says he'll take me with him to an insanely dark castle where his ugliness won't show. And is he a freak? Dark curly hair; pale skin scratched by sharp wings; bloody lips beckoning them to kiss; blue eyes make you plunge into their world, follow them, visit the black hell; a hot body from which you want to sob - it is ideal, but only in the guise of a person. What is he? No one can answer this question for you, not even me.

Stone. Crack. Broken glass, but that's all he is. Strong wind plays with dark hair. It seems to me that I am no longer the same ... Not bright. He and his darkness consumes me - I become the opposite. His smile really beckoned me to choose hell, but did I have a choice?

The guy closes my eyes with his hot hand, simultaneously sending me to sleep. He wiped his crystal tears on his cloak and seemed to vanish into thin air.

And is it real again? Is this a dream or just another nightmare?

I open my brown eyes again and see my lilac: without heat, without hell, without that me - quietly, peacefully and without the devil.

It's really quiet in my room and now I'm calm. But no one knew that the invisible evil me and my demon in the guise of a handsome guy were standing near the broken window.

I dreamed that I was dead. So it is not far: somewhere at the crossroads.

Death.