charmolipi: a short story collection.

I Told the Stars About You

I couldn't do anything.

When you reached for my hand, I couldn't do anything. And it hurts to know that I should've been able to. But I was born a coward and chased a fantasy without you, thinking how easier everything would be.

I knew you didn't love her. You didn't look at her with same adoration and love that you did for me. With her, your eyes were blank and cold and angry, like the waves of the ocean on a storm that would make the birds flee. You never held her with the same gentleness that I felt when we bathed in the moonlight, under the stare of the stars that were slowly dying as I told them about you. Our time was over before we knew it, and I was your servant once again.

You called me little dove because I was the freedom you longed for. In my head I called you raven because you reminded me of death, something that I found so beautiful and so forbidden it could never be mine. You were peace and chaos in a person, a paradox so complex I could never figure out – even when you proclaimed you were mine long before I realized I was my own.

On the day of your marriage, any trace of happiness from your face was nowhere to be found. Any sign of the person who loved me so much had gone missing. You became so hollow, so empty that not even the sight of my face could light you up. It was darkness and chaos in your eyes now, a face so different I wasn't sure it was even you.

And I knew it was my fault.

You had every right to be angry at me, Raven.

It was I who let you go, who was not brave enough to be yours.

Your bride walked down the aisle, yet your eyes were on mine. You looked at me with every negative emotion one could possibly think of. I looked back and I saw a flash of the person that once said he was mine.

Why didn't you fight for me? You asked.

I am not worthy of you, Your Grace.

You left me alone. You promised me freedom, little dove.

This is freedom.

I saw it. I knew. I recognized the look in your eyes that didn't care about anything, like hell was empty and you released all that lived there. You stopped the wedding and ran to me. I did not dare look at you because you were crying, and if did I would've run away with you right then and there.

Now I wished I looked at you one last time. I wish my gaze wasn't so cold. I wish I gave in.

But what use are wishes?

The arrow was shot. Then a second. You collapsed into my arms and your blood slowly seeped into the fabric of my clothes. I closed my eyes for I did not want to see you – with death looming above you, ready to take you away. A raven, so dark and ominous. A pair of determined eyes, weeping as they lose hope. A body, dying. Instead, I pulled you close to my heart so that you could feel how it used to beat and is still beating for you.

This is freedom.

The stars are dying and the night is old, raven.

"I told the stars about you too." was the last thing you said.

And the church was filled with my screams.

-

I wrote this after listening to a classical playlist and imagined a tragedy between a servant and her master.