A Tale of Shadows - THE OUTDATED VERSION

Chapter 5 - The New Life

Every day was a struggle in Melinda's new life. Even with the help of the royal advisor and with her husband by her side, ruling Obscuria was not a walk in the park for her. She had to go to various ruins from the burning with a group of people almost daily and make sure that everything went well, in which one mistake could turn the whole process into a catastrophe. However, she would have quietly borne that responsibility if her mind wasn't being overwhelmed by all that she went through. Whenever she would do anything, including the most ordinary things, like eating breakfast or reading a book, she would wear a frown on her face that was followed by furrowed eyebrows and an uninviting gaze. She would temporarily halt doing that thing if she saw a person behind her, and if they have turned away, she would observe them unblinkingly. Sometimes they came in groups, whispering about their concern for her, thinking she didn't notice. It was uncanny, she believed, how easily she could become a mere footnote in her own palace if she wanted to. 

She would oftentimes resign herself to her study. It was a place of darkness and solitude, where papers covered with layers of dust lay on the desk and the smell of the ink danced gracefully in the air, where she would stroke the oaken chair, which was produced out of the same type of wood as the table, and feel the gentleness of meadow grass, where every step and whisper she made echoed, causing her to shiver, remembering something she yearned to bury deep in the core of the abandoned parts of her brain. Most times, she did nothing more than write melancholy poems until her right hand would start to hurt. Her nails would be carved tight into the helpless quill, her face burning from the intensity of her emotions. If only there was a way to stifle the sensitivities of my heart, she thought.

Even when she would go outside, she could not run away from her thoughts. During some days, she watched as bees sucked the pollen from the beautiful flowers in her garden, which mostly consisted of roses and lilies, calm and tranquil, circling their target while hovering as if nothing in the world bothered them. A part of her constantly wished to spit in their face for daring to be so happy, but she was aware of the fact that it was not their fault. She didn't know if they could tell what was happening to the people around them, but even if they did, it would have meant nothing. Her head was full of useless ponderings like that, as it would do anything to make her escape from the mournful song that was playing in her head all the time. When the rays of the sun would gently shine over her horizons, which was quite often, her mind felt the need to point that out as if it were something extraordinary, just to make her smile. However, every time she smiled, whether the smile was truthful or deceiving, her cheeks would hurt, for smiling had become foreign to them. 

Balls were also hosted often, those grandiose parties that looked majestic, especially due to the castle hall having been renovated recently. Everything glistened a hypnotizing golden glow, particularly the chandelier, which was full of white candles that were being replaced at every opportunity. The room possessed a luminous aura, for there were no curtains, merely the stars and the moon on the night sky that, although murky, was not the colour of coal that often, for the candles shone as if their lives depended on it, for plants in pots were all around the room to contrast the cold gloominess of the dark golden walls, for the chatter of the people rang through the room sweetly enough to remind Melinda of honey. Everyone on those balls looked, acted and danced in a presentable way. Melinda fancied balls, which was only logical when it came to her, a person who loved dancing to classical music, and would even drink a few sips of red wine during them, but sometimes she viewed them as she viewed herself - beautiful, yet largely empty inside. 

She wished she could stop complaining about everything that occurred to her, every waking breath that she made, but that was possible only in her dreams. Even then, just like the people she trusted, dreams could easily fail her. They knew to reenact the horrible situations she went through, and reenact them well at that. She would wake up in cold sweat before the morning arrived while breathing heavily, and whatever nightmare she saw would terrify her enough to cause her to not desire sleep anymore. Not willing to take the chance to wake anyone else up, she would sit in her bed for at least an hour, and when it became five in the morning, she would get up immediately. Even her husband told her that she needed to sleep more, but she simply nodded, knowing that she would most certainly sleep more if she could.