Another Man’s curse

A mini story by Silvan A Elendal

Blood comes dripping down my writs, puddling on the floor, white lino stained.

I’m sitting in a classroom, staring out of the window at the building over the way. An old chapel, it belongs to the school. I imagine it there, cool white stone would create the most beautiful echoes, amplify the smallest noises. A frieze on the wall facing me, man with a shield. Behind it, the clouds trudge, greyish like dirty wool, across a whiter sky.

Claret tracks across my skin, no one notices the steady dripping to the floor.

Between me and that little hallowed places stands a low fence and a small tree. The whole scene in quaint, steady and quiet. And here in this classroom all I can hear are the deafening thoughts of others over their voices, all oblivious to the blood falling from my fingers to the floor. I fear I may die and the last thing I shall hear is the boy in the seat next to me fantasizing about unlikely sex.

The cuts do not hurt, the blood falling, falling…

My life is draining out of me, my memories, my soul. I will end this lesson, an empty shell. I am a vessel for all their thoughts, their secrets, their sins. I am but a child who knows too much.

I can hear, in some distant corner of my mind, Mr. Haldridge’s voice, loud and full of worry and concern, but fogged by the cotton wool in my ears.

Luka! Luka!

I slump sideways, falling to the floor, knowing that my own blood is staining my hair.

Luka! Luka!

It doesn’t matter anymore. His secret is safe with me.