by Siberia
A poem hums in my mind as I wait impatiently for my beloved to arrive. The mild breeze tingles with the fragrance of my bouquet of jasmines. A light amount of make-up adorns my otherwise plain face, while my long black hair, which usually hangs loose from my shoulders, is arranged tightly into a bun. I'm sporting my best gown, a red silk dress embedded with floral designs, reflecting my Southeast Asian origins. Loose white pants protrude from beneath, as tradition demands. A circlet matching my garments encases around my head, completing the bridal picture.
No guests are here to witness the event. This doesn't really surprise me, since nobody in my life has proven to be a reliable source of emotional support. Being the fragile, hypersensitive, over-emotional person who dwelt in a realm where these particular qualities were not at all appreciated, I became a huge embarrassment to my prestige-obsessed family. My pals did offer temporary respite from my woes, but no matter how strong the bond seemed, every single one of my friendships disintegrated in the end. Perhaps there is something genuinely unlovable about me, but all I know is that my sweetheart has been my sole, constant companion throughout my dreary existence (although none of the people I know would approve of him being my husband).
So who is he, you may ask? I first met him when I was four years old. I was stricken with pneumonia for the sixth or seventh time in a row. They say it's a tricky illness when it afflicts the young and the elderly, so you can imagine how much I suffered during this lengthy ordeal. Every mouthful of air became a horrid struggle. My body was so exhausted from the constant warfare that I was bed-ridden for months. At one point, I was even hooked up to a machine that forced my lungs to breathe. The physicians weren't sure if I was going to make it out alive.
That was when my future fiancé made his initial appearance. The stranger was tall, dark, and handsome to gaze upon. Despite my parents' lesson to keep away from people I didn't know, I found myself unable to resist his warm disposition. He sat by my bedside, greeting me with the softest eyes and the most endearing grin. And his voice! Oh, it was the most beautiful, ethereal sound I had ever heard. He told me that he had been watching me for some time now, and couldn't bear to see me tormented like this. He promised to lift away all of my pain, if I only would accept his hand. I would've laughed at his preposterous claim if I weren't so ill.
The doctors can't help me. What makes you think you can? I jeered at him silently.
Sensing my skepticism, the visitor then replied gently, "Here, I'll show you what I can do."
He then proceeded to place his palm on my chest. Almost instantly, my lungs began to clear up. For the first time in many weeks, I felt peaceful, relaxed and free.
How did you do that?! my mind exclaimed.
No doubt touched by naivety, he murmured in a sweet tone, "Come with me, and I'll teach you."
The mysterious guest then offered me his other hand. Captivated and intrigued, I begin to reach for it. Before he could clasp my fingers, however, some of the medical staff chased him away from my room, believing he meant to do me serious harm. As he was being ripped away from my bedside, he did manage to give me a present; a ruby ring with puzzling symbols etched into it. Unable to decipher its significance, I kept the object as a reminder of my surreal encounter, never thinking I would see him again.
When I eventually recovered from the pneumonia, I found myself contemplating frequently about the nature of his visit, much to the dismay of everyone around me. They didn't believe it was normal or healthy for a young child to focus so much on what they perceived to be a negative event. Although their concerns may be well-founded, my psyche simply couldn't help itself; his presence affected my thoughts in a very profound fashion, permanently altering them.
It didn't take long for me to realize that my method of thinking was very different from that of most people. Condemned for my weirdness, I was labelled a social outcast and repeatedly excluded from the mainstream crowd. You can imagine what an awful time elementary and secondary school was for me, when your reputation meant everything. My peers mocked me incessantly for my geeky-artistic ways, accusing my head of always straying far from reality.
As for my family, the high pressure of having to succeed at the goals they've chosen for me further deteriorated my mental health. My parents loathed my interest in science-fiction, depressing music and writing, preferring instead that I concentrate on more "important" matters, such as math or biology, topics that my scientifically-challenged brain could barely comprehend. Quite frankly, nobody can blame me for developing severe emotional problems.
I discovered with the passing years that whenever I fell into despair (which was pretty often), my future husband would always return, wishing to soothe me from my troubles. For the longest time, he was my best friend, someone I could trust not to divulge my secrets, a ready shoulder to cry on. I honestly don't know what I would've done without his limitless affection. I probably would've succumbed to madness by now, maybe even committed a murder or two. It's downright disturbing the violent imagery that invades my mind when I feel I've been betrayed, abused or humiliated.
One day, I decided to inquire about the curious gift he had left for me. The piece of jewelry, it turned out, was actually an engagement ring, and the engravings were of his native tongue, which declared his unrelenting devotion to me. My companion offered his hand in marriage twice; once when I was ten, and the other when I was eighteen. Coincidentally, those were the occasions when my life dipped to its lowest point. I found the second request to be particularly amusing, because he knew perfectly well that I was dating someone at the time. Although I was sorely tempted to accept his proposal, I chose to decline, stating that I didn't feel I loved him enough.
Now, at age 21, all of that has changed. Although I had my share of boyfriends and crushes, I realized they could never satisfy me emotionally the way my soulmate did. Compared to my sister, who crumbles to pieces whenever a relationship expires, a break-up doesn't really affect me. At most, I'll just feel a little upset, but I don't lose sleep over it. I used to believe I was naturally distant towards the opposite sex, but now I know it's because my heart's loyalty belonged solely to him. Without wasting another second, I open the jewelry box and set the ruby ring upon my finger. I allocate some time to my grooming, make-up, and wedding attire before packing a few of my belongings. After a rapid survey of my appearance, I flee from my former existence, without any intention to return.
The groom ascends the steps to the temple. He's clad in elegant white clothing, not unlike I something I once saw in a marriage scene from an Indian film. It somehow emphasizes everything that I find attractive about him. I also notice that his gorgeous splendour remains completely untouched by passing of time; he hasn't an aged a day since his brief stay in my hospital room. I am startled by this fact, yet at the same time, I feel I should've expected it.
As I gaze into his dazzling brown irises, my betrothed caresses my youthful face. With his otherworldly voice, he utters, "I heard your call. I came as soon as I can. I hope the wait wasn't too excruciating for you."
"Well, it was at the start, but don't worry, I didn't wait too long," I reassure him.
"I'm glad to hear that." He smiles at my dress and whispers, "My, you're looking lovely today."
My once pale cheeks are now shaded in a vibrant pink because of his compliment. "Thanks. I tried my best, considering that I was in a hurry, and I had no help." I take a moment to absorb his tender aura, the tip of my fingers playing around with his raven hair.
His manner becomes more serious when he tells me, "I can't believe how long I waited for this day."
"I know. It's been… what, almost seventeen years since your first approached me? I'm sorry if it took me a while to make up my mind. I just wanted to be absolutely sure if this is what I really wanted."
"It's alright. You know I would still adore you, even if you waited seventy years to decide."
My beloved charmingly lowers his lips towards mine. Grateful for the sensual attention, I receive them fully as my arms coil around his elegant neck. Our mouths explode in a passionate embrace, stirring my senses in a manner I never thought possible. Nothing had ever felt so right to me; for the first time in years, I felt alive again.
"Oh, I made another poem about you," I mention eagerly, as soon as our kiss ends. "I was very inspired this morning."
"Ah, wonderful!" he answers in a cheery fashion. "Let me hear it. You know how much I love your poetry."
I roll my eyes. "Well, of course you would say that, being my muse and all."
He chuckles lightly at my remark. We grasp each other's hand, the shades of our skin intertwining prettily like a colourful basket weave, before we depart from the altar.
As we stroll on the marble path, he inquires, "So what's this latest one called?"
Wishing to perform a flawless recital, I clear my throat to ensure that my voice is free of impurities. "A Bridal Song, and here are the words:
But the feelings would never last
For a long time, I could not see
Why nobody truly belonged to me
As the years passed, I came to understand
Why my soul's an empty wasteland
Mortal love could never compare
To the one Death and I shared
Though I didn't realize it at the time
He had set a ring on this finger of mine
I was only a young, innocent girl
Yet already I distanced from the living world
Eager to ride on Charon's* boat
I plunge the knife deep into my throat
Fully aware that no earthly man
Could ever claim my fair hand
Standing by Death's side
I am merry to be his blushing bride
I lovingly embrace his fervent lips
To seal our long-awaited pledge with a kiss
"Really? What makes you so certain?" I demand curiously.
"It's slightly difficult to explain. Somehow, there was an error in the grand scheme of things, and you came into being when it wasn't supposed to happen. Fate had no idea what to do with you, hence the extreme unrest your spirit had to endure. It was conscious of the fact that it had no place in the universe. Except for here."
"With you, of course."
"Of course."
As we continue to walk in blissful harmony, a thought dawns upon me; this is the stable, secure home I've been searching for throughout my agonizing life. And now that faithful, caring Death is by my side, I'll finally know what it means to be happy and cherished. Forever.
*For those of you who are not into Greek myth, Charon is a ferryman who, for the price of a coin, will carry dead souls across the River Styx to Hades' Underworld.
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