The Guillotine | ONC 2022

VIII

1st December 1793

More than a month had passed since Armand surrendered to my cravings and became my lover. Our lives intertwined in such a natural way that one would almost believe they were orchestrated to fit into one another like two pieces of ancient broken crockery that had been found after centuries and put together again to complete their forever common fate.

We paraded hand in hand on the sunny piedestal of revolutionary Paris, completely untouched by the frightening events taking place at our feet. Just like old Roman gods we watched the sufferings of all those ordinary human beings with amusement.

I was once again captured in a relationship with a man, demanding my love and attention, but this time I didn't mind, I didn't want to spread my wings, I didn't yearn to achieve anything, because this time I had a share in my man's success. At last I had a man who was worth success at all.

I was happy.

And this infinite joy somehow managed to quench that thirst for blood, tormenting my soul since when I was a child. Being happy, I suddenly desired the happiness of others as well... Or at least I didn't desire their despair.

I finally felt at peace, with the world, with the people, with myself. I no longer felt that fire in me, pushing me always further and further, because what I had at the moment wasn't enough. I no longer heard the voice that whispered, "Who do you want to trick with this? Do you think you're something special? You are wasting your talent on mediocrity!"

That all was gone along with the remorse I felt for the time I wasted with a life that brought me no pleasure. I could finally breathe!

I could breathe the fresh air of a late noon, wafting with the scent of various meals that the people in neighbouring apartments prepared themselves that day without feeling jealous of their happiness.

I could quietly sit in the armchair, reading a passionate romantic book without desiring to switch lives with the protagonist.
I could obediently prepare the lunch without feeling like a slave.

I could enjoy a peaceful morning without those annoying regretful thoughts disturbing my calmness.

I could-

Bang! Bang Bang!

Someone was knocking on my door. Surely it was Armand!

Excitedly, I laid down my book and ran to the door to welcome him.

However, as I opened the door I didn't see the handsome face of my beloved.

Instead I beheld the small frail figure of one of the dubious people that filled the streets around the convent.

Beaumont Archambeau- a scrawny little boy, no more than seventeen years old, with dusty blond hair and even dustier clothes which he probably stole from some executed nobleman at the start of the revolution. He was smoking an unshapely cigar which he might have collected from the street where many feet have trodden over it after it was thrown away by someone and was smiling at me in such an audacious manner that it almost felt improper to speak to him.

Luckily, he spared me of the decision whether to end the awkward situation before it had started and accosted me, "Ey, ma'am, would ya mind if I came in for a second? I bet you'll wanna hear what I 'ave to tell ya."

"I don't believe it's desirable that a person of your poor reputation enters the house of a respectable woman. You could ruin my good name." I said coldly, examining that dirty little criminal once again.

He just snickered carelessly, extinguished the cigar against the door of my apartment and put the pitiful tiny cigarette butt behind his ear, probably to keep for later. Then he bared his yellow teeth at me and continued, provokingly, "I think you' lover already took care of that. Armand Fontaine officially became the enemy of the Republic today."