Damned From Birth
Tap, tap, tap.
A wind howled and the rain continued to hit against her bedroom windows. The rain rapidly hit harder and harder, and rain drops fell down onearth from the sky faster. In the middle of the night her eyes opened wide, she gasped for air, for breath, and her heart beat so fast against her chest. Her dream had been so vivid with these horrid images, it took her a few moments to focus her eye sight, slow down her breathing, return her heart beat to normaland separate her dream from the reality. She woke up in the middle of the night, to another dream of prophecy, covered in sweat-- her scalp, her neck, her chest, her backwas beaded in sweat. Her whole body was flushed red. Her mouth was dry. She was thirsty. She assumed she was shrieking again as a reaction to the horrendous and awful decaying images she saw. She was damned from birth.
In the next five moments her breathing stabilized, her heart rate slowed down and her eyes were able to see clearly. She stared at her carved ceiling and wandered her eyes about her room from her enormous bed. She glanced at a canvas covered with an old rag with random colors streaked. She saw mirrors and candles mounted on her ivory color painted walls. Next, her eyes landed onthe wooden andantique desk she wrote her letters, and took care of official business on. At the opposite end of the room she saw her vanitytable filled with products of her time and a body length mirror. On another part of the roomher swords of different shapes and sizes, unique materialshung heavy on her wall with their different storiesfrom one another. Thenher mind led her eyes to another wallcompletely turned intoinstant library shelves. It was filled with large and small books, small idols and other decorative pieces. A small statue of a woman who was said to be the first prophetess laid right next to the bookshelf. “Everything seems to be in place” she thought to herself. She sighed and then slided herself up on her bed and laid her back against her bed's head board. Clearly her bed was too big for one person to occupy. This first sight of loneliness did not bother her though. She was soaked in sweat, her hair felt like she had been showered with sweat. Stick and stinky. She was back to reality. Ironically she didn't know if her night terrors, her so called dreams of prophecy, or the reality was worse. She lived her dreams day in and day out. Literally. “I bet no one can live their dreams like I can” she sarcastically muttered to herself. Her dreams inevitably came true. It wasn't about silly things like who was going to come over for dinner. Although she did see insignificant things like that as well. But her dreams, her so called prophecies were more endangering and more threatening than who was coming over for dinner, or who was going to try to throw eggs at her. This was nothing new. She should of gotten used to waking up to night terrors. That is how her days begun after all. The two thirds of her life was filled with nights like tonight. Afterall, shedreamed since birth. She had been prophecizing since she could remember. They tell her even before she could talk. She was damned from birth.She reached for her lamp on her night stand, and flicked it on. This second presumptionof her loneliness also did not affect her.She grabbed a crystal glass and filled it with water from her glass pitcher and gulped it all down at once. She was thirsty. As she drank second glass of water her eyes landed on her windows and curtains. Her curtains were closed, she had shut the world out. Only from the creaks between her heavy, ruby red, velvet curtains the moon light seeped in slowly in rays. She ran her hands through her hair and let her silky, long, wavy, jet black hair hang down behind her back, past her shoulder blades, past her waist line slowly tracing the curves of her body.
She glanced on the other side of her bed to her other night stand to look at the clock. It was close to ten at night. “Well, I slept over tonight” she sighed. She reached for the sky with her hands, and stretched her hands, her back and her shoulders. One last yawn escaped from her small, but full lips. Her neck was long, and she cracked it by turning it right and left with force. "All better" she smiled to herself and dropped her legs from the bed to her black marble bedroom floor. This third illustration of her loneliness created the notion that she was alone and lonesome. The cold and hardness of the marble felt good against her feverish feet. She soaked the coldness for a few more seconds and then got up on her feet and reaching for black and silk robe. "Ah, black," she loved the color black. It was dark, it was obscure, it was destruction, it was the harbinger of calamities, it was vague, it was a symbol of abyss and abhorrence--just like her. After slipping into her robe, she grabbed a hair pin and put her hair in a loose bun. The prophetess of dreams walked around in her room, up and down, right and left. Next she decided to light a few candles for the room, and opened a few curtains and a few windows. “Moonlight is always blessed and some fresh spring air would do wonders to my old, airless room." She talked to herself, almost as if, proving the hypothesis of her loneliness. She was damned from birth.
After stealing a few glances at the sky and outside of her window, she elegantly paced towards a door in her room and flicked on another light, while trying to decide between taking a shower or not taking a shower. It was the same debate everyday. It was an exquisite and an elegant bathroom. Something out of a castle in the 1800s with modern touches. It was just like her taste though. She liked the finer things life, she hadafter all was born with such trivial things and had grown accustomed to it.All the while wielding swords and chasing down creatures of the night through the mud and the rain, the snow and the forest, camping in the middle of the desert for weeks without a shower or a real bed. None of which actually bothered her. That was her duty, that was her purpose of existing in the world. But here she was with a bathroom that was bigger than most people's living rooms. She had everything possible in here. She had vanity mirrors with the msot blessing and cruel lights andcounters madefor stuff like face cleaners, toners, lotions, body washes, hair curlers, a straightener iron, and a faucet -- that probably would of inspired da Vinci if he could ever lay his eyes on such an exquisite artsy, smartly engineered and architecturally designed bathroom. The mistress of dreams washed her ivory color hands, then her face, and her neck. She contemplated her debate regarding shower, then decided against it. “It's no use, since I am going to go haunt creatures of the night in a few hours and get all dirty, no need to take two showers a day” she said to herself looking at her own image on her mirror. After cleaning up she turned off the light and walked back to her luxury chamber. She was damned from birth.
"Smell of the earth during the rain is rather intoxicating" she thought to herself. "Rain washes away the sins" she continued her train of thought. Slowly she walked towards one of her window doors, that lead to her balcony. A French trimmed, double sided door. She opened it softly, without making any noise and stepped out into the balcony. She breathed in the spring air into her lungs and admired the beauty that was in front of her. "Ah, the world is even more mystical than usual under the rain and a full blown, full moon" she said to the birds and the animals that resided in her overly done garden. Any outsider would of been convinced that she is a loner by now. She gazed and glanced around her and admiring every tree,every leaf, every branch, every root visible over the surface of the earth, and the small creatures that nested on these trunks and trees. Every glass blade, every flower, the dirt path, the lay out of the front garden in front of her seemed too beautiful to exist. She looked at everything in front of her with a different perspective than usual. Every scent more intoxicating, every sensation peaked. Everything was more dazzling than she had ever realized--ever gave it credit for. Everything was too mystical even to her and her own world. A thicksilver chain hung from her neck down with a roundpendant at the end of it. The pendant hung down her neck resting against her chest and landing on her cleavage. The silver pendant carried her family crest,her emblemthat labeled her as the dream prophetess that she was. The chain and it's round silver pendant swung back and forth as she leaned over her black, metal balcony railing and took in the scenery before her, and took in the early spring air into her system even more. The pendant kept swinging back and forth. Like little girl on a swing. Her silver chain with its pendant swindled. She hated this pendant, she loved this pendant. It labeled her, it announced what she was to the whole world. Actually labeling was what she hated. Yes, that would be more correct. But it was an heirloom. She loved that part of thependant. Her mother had worn it once, before she passed away. Her mother had loved this pendant and had worn it with pride and love. This pendant was passed down from mother to daughter-- for as long as anyone can remember in her family. It was passed down to her from her mother. This little pendant with its thick silver chain was given from one prophetess of dreams to the next as they became the next one to claim life. It was beautiful, hand crafted and it offered her the protection she needed at times when her life was in danger. Most importantly this little pendant allowed her to come back from the dream world back to earth. This pendant was created especially so the dreamer's spirit could find her body back here on this damned planet. She was cursed, she was damned from birth to inheret this power. This pendant symbolized all of that. With this pendant she didn't have to prove herself. With that worn on her neck, hanging pass her cleavage no one would oppose her, and everyone would accept her prophecies as told. She didn't have to play guessing games. She probably hated that the most. Without waiting to see if she was correct or not, people took her word because she wore this damn pendant. Not because her dreams come true. Her dreams did come true, but no one ever questioned her. Not the first time she took over as the prophetess, or as she made more allies. All bowed down to this pendant. It wasn't even a person.There had been a prophetess like that in her clan's history. She was damned even before she was born. She was born to be damned.
She picked up her head and looked at the darkened, sorrowful sky. Full moon looked absolutely dazzling tonight. It was full, bright and honey colored. It shone so bright, it gavethis feeling of opaquness and honestyto everything on the ground. It lighted the way for her. Everything the light of the moon touched became immeasurably intense under it. It glittered across sky. The moon adorned the sky and left mouths to hang wide open. So to speak, the moon was this enormous pearl in the middle of the vast, dark sky that had no beginning or no end. It hung on the sky like a pearl would hang down on a woman's neck and bosom. The moon, stood there like her guide. Lost in the middle, before the future, after the past, everything else was gone. The only thing was this honey dazzling full moon here and now. It was impossible not to be awestruck by the view in front of her. It was mesmerizing. She was spell bound.
Such a serene, cool night it was. Only, if her world was like that too. The burning passionate tearsfilled with regrets, a sorrowful past, a very uncertain, dim future and the haunting nightmares left little from for serenity. She was damned from birth.
The rain picked up, the sound of rain hitting hard against the metal railing, and the feeling of rain on her skin, combined with the smell of the earth brought her back from her unimaginative and boring fantasy world. Her fantasy was normalcy. That was what this dream seer seeked. As if she needed anymore of fantasy in her life. Between her dreams, and her life, reality was more like fantasy--a dreamthan anything else. Cold and unwelcoming. Or perhaps it was the dreams that were unwelcoming. Who knew? The lines were muddied, her life was a haze, and her waking hours seemed more like a blur than her dreams. She couldn't tell which one was which sometimes. She saw her battle moments happen over and over in her dreams. She saw what she will do after she woke up many times, day after day. She sometimes confused which was dreams, and which was dreams being fulfilled. She took a one good look at the sky and one last whiff and slowly wafted towards her bedroom. She saw the time and it was getting close to midnight. For a second she wondered how long it had been raining for, for she had woken up to the rain. From the looks of it for a long time she deduced and slowly laid her ivory, long, but sculpted fingers, on her canvas. Her fingers were perfectly sculpted for sword wielding. God couldn't create her more specific than that for her destiny. Everything about her made her the great prophetess that she was.She had painted something of her visions, the vision of destruction she had been seeing, dreaming about since she was a little girl. The only thing she knew was that date was fast approaching with nothing she could do about it. “What's the point of having dreams if you can't prevent them?” she thought. It would of made her life a lot easier at the very least. She had painted different versions of it, none of which scared her more than this one. She brushed by it and went to change into her slaying outfit. Clearly she was damned from birth.
From where she was standing in her room, she could clearly see the honey colored full moon with the balcony door open. She looked up at the moon in awe and sent a prayer. A prayer that was lost in the darkness of the cosmos, universe. They all hated her and had cursed her. All she really wanted to do was to be at peace and happy. However that was way too much to be granted to any one human being. Let alone her. Damned from birth. She had the obligation to erase.
Damned from birth and with a gift. She grabbed her sword and stormed out of her room to go slay creatures of the night, given to her through her dreams of prophecy.
© Copyright 2016 NazireC. All rights reserved.
Book / Fantasy
Book / Literary Fiction
Book / Literary Fiction
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