Memories

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They asked me, oh they asked me, if I wished to gaze upon her lifeless form, to bid my final farewells before the world would lay her to rest. Oh, how my heart tightened, constricted with anguish, as I refused to bear witness to the remnants of a beauty extinguished by the clutches of destiny. Every fiber within me yearned to preserve the image of her radiance, undying and unscathed, etched upon the canvass of my consciousness. To behold her fragile form, broken and charred, would be to ravage the sanctuary of my mind, unleashing upon my soul a turmoil far greater than any I yet endured.

For, you see, it was not the mere physicality, the external visage, it was the essence, the spirit, the vibrant soul that forever etched its mark on the depths of my existence. And though her serene face may have beckoned from the silence of death, I was resolved to remember her as she danced with life, unabashedly exhaling joy and  spreading laughter like a  beguiling enchantress. I summoned her laughter, the melody that once echoed through our stolen moments, weaving a tapestry euphoria amidst the shadows of our clandestine escapades.

How could I trade this cherished resonance for a stagnant, unyielding silence? Far be it from my fervent determination to shroud her memory in the cold embrace of morality. To see her lying in that fragile state, her beauty suspended in the stagnant embrace of death, would brand my soul irreparably. The visions of her lifeless form would relentlessly haunt my dreams, a spector that would follow me, torment me in every waking moment. To disrupt the sanctity of her eternal sleep would be to invite madness into my world, an unhinged madness that would push me beyond the precipice into the abyss of a shattered mind.

Ángel Oscuro's Redemption Where stories live. Discover now