Inferno

B Ë A U T Y

5. M I R A

Years of grime ebbs away under my palm. On the third swipe of my hand, I can make out my reflection in the glass mirror. I'm unable to stop the soft gasp that parts my lips. I see myself.

My eyes are large, the color of gold, with flecks of white. Dirt smears over my skin, as I run my hands over my face. I have an odd face that is slim and narrow, almost gaunt. My brows are thick, while my nose slopes above full lips. My ears stick out from a thick mass of raven hair, and I laugh. This diverts my attention to my teeth.

My lateral incisors and canines are disturbingly elongated. Im sure if I wanted they could be weapons of sharp, deadly, catastrophe. Hesitantly, my tongue roves over them, and somehow I have nicked it.

Turning from the mirror, I survey the small bathroom I have found. The tub is stained with yellow, while the toilet seems to be shut, I point at the closed bowl.

"Now, that is one mystery I will not be seeing to."

A single square window is above the tub, which allows light to flood in. In the corner of the bathroom, is a small wooden cupboard. I had placed my book on it, when I first entered the small room.
Now I pull on the rusted knobs of the main drawer, and out flies a grey moth. In the drawer are a rows of simple black robes, and a small box. Reaching for the box, I shake it a few times before deciding to open it. Inside are silver scissors and a pair of nail cutters.

Absentmindedly, I glance at my fingers, "Well, my nails could do for a trim." Dirt has embedded itself into small crevices. "Come to think of it, I should clean up then change."
The rest of my body is still covered in forest foliage, and my dress has reached the end of its course. Placing the cutter back in the box and in the cupboard, I tug the white garment up and over my body. It gets caught on my head and I have to yank it a couple times, but finally it's off. Nonetheless, the sides of my neck and cheeks feel the burn from the cloth's resistance. Next, I slide my pantalets off before stepping into the tub.

"It is better to be clean and comfortable then to be dirty and queasy." I murmur, while eyeing the stained tub. There's no telling if the pipes will even work, but I still turn the chipped golden faucet. It wheezes painfully and I jump back as dirty liquid begins to spew from its mouth. In short pauses the dirty liquid falls before steady streams of clean water push through, soon enough the hissing also ceases.

"What a relief!" I shout with utter happiness. Careful not to step in the slosh of dirt, I cup my hands to catch the falling water and begin to wash myself. My hair, which is much too long, keeps falling into my face or the dirty water. After a few moments of pushing it back to no avail, I retrieve the scissors and stand in front of the mirror.
The water in the tub continues to run, as I quickly snip off the dark locks hindering me. In just a few minutes, my hair reaches my shoulders in jagged uneven waves. Black tendrils gather on the floor, around my toes, pile up. My arms begin to ache as I continue cutting, until I'm satisfied. Then I set the scissors down, proud of my work.

At once I feel infinitely weightless, and I rush to the tub to continue my cleansing. Remains of my improvised haircut, are washed away by cold water. Despite the freezing temperature, I don't stop scrubbing until every inch of my body is clean. However, I'm careful to be gentle around my wrists they are scarred heavily. Once I'm satisfied, and the drain has taken away the evidence of my wash, I turn the faucet back off.

The fabric of the black robe is thin but soft, as I pull it over my body. It is like a dress and reaches my feet. The arms are long and the sleeves are wide. I fold my white dress and place it on top of the cupboard, not ready to dispose of it.

I reach for my book and make my way out of the bathroom. I know now that the Church has a bathroom, a single bedroom, and what looks to be a reading room. A spiral staircase is nestled away carefully, in the corner of the main prayer area, where the Statue and organ reside. And that is my destination, as I roam through the halls of the building.

Once there I race up the steps, which leads to a small elevated podium. The broken dome of glass reveals the world. I reach the last step and stand on my toes to view the scenery.

I've found myself on a small island, with a rosy horizon overlooking glimmering waters. The Church sits on a hill, it allows me to see the forest, and the tree I have risen from. There looks to be a small beach beyond it, with sand and palm trees. I turn in a circle, and see that behind the Church is a magnificent garden, with a small shed. Aside from that there is nothing but forest, and water. No other sign of life.

The sun is beginning to dip, painting the world in a lovely shade of molten red. A cool breeze ruffles my hair, which tickles my forehead. With an open heart, I make my way to the garden, which has become equally as untamed as the rest of the island, but extravagantly beautiful.

Rows of pink cherry blossoms outline a stone pathway. Willow trees rise in different heights, in patterns of three. Bushels of fresh fruit and vegetables grow in plenty. Multi coloured flowers arch towards the sky, which is lit by thousands of stars. A stream of water leads to a small pond with orange and green fish, they swim in small schools. The garden curves into a cliff with a thick foliage of trees, covering a hidden shed. I'm just about to walk to it, but something in the middle of the garden catches my eye.

In the epicentre, is a single red rose that holds my vision transfixed. My legs move on their own accord, then I sink to my knees absolutely riveted by the delicate flower. Completely entranced by it, I reach for it, unable to stop myself. My fingers curl around the stem and they are brutally punctured by thorns I have missed to see.

I don't voice my pain as I speak, "Not delicate at all." I retract my hand to see thick drops of gold welling beneath my pricked fingers. In beads, my blood stains the rose's thorns before running down the stem.

"My first lesson, of life. Beauty should be admired, not taken from. My sincerest apologies."