The Trinity of Lacks
rating: +2+x
    • _

    The movements of the pages shiver inside my soul even though I have already gone through this, those hands remind me of the one I once called brother. And so I don't want to forget you, even if it means going through my hands' pain once again, as touching, reading and reciting the words of this book are the only memories I have left of you.

    No, the tears running down my cheeks don't mean sadness. They are to honor you, as my fingers fill with blood and my palms with wounds. This is my offering to you, my little brother.

      • _

      My thoughts stagger through all the decisions I've made to survive without you, from one moment to the next everything seems to plunge into darkness in order to perish in the eternity of oblivion, alongside the hope of seeing you again. My crying creates an incomprehensible pain in my cheeks as I continue to weep. If I stop crying, would I be breaking my promise?

      Leather cover and baby eyes, looking at me with so much life and death at the same time in this duality of horrors. You, my second brother who kept me sane in the moments when I least wanted to go on, you were an anchor for me until you sank into the depths of the abyss created by my mother.

        • _

        To end my ceremony, I lay the first two books on the table, wiping away the crimson blood mixed with sweat and pain. Anyone else would have already perished in this task, but only I am able to relive those moments when we were together, gazing at the starry sky and playing in the grass fields.

        Because reading these books is the only way to recreate those scenarios in my head, to bring them back to me for just a few moments, regardless of the punishments I have to go through or the wounds that will be inflicted.

        So, I place the third book on the table. I look at myself in its dark cover, mocking my feelings, accepting the futility of my attempts, tearing apart with every second what little happiness I have left. It makes me remember my future, where there is no rest for my cursed soul or my selfish acts.

        And one day the pages will unveil all their repressed feelings along with mine. The moon will crack into pieces over the dark and cursed night, all the children will scream their throats out and then sing an ode in our honor.

        But today won't be that day, and I will never know when, regardless of my precautions or knowledge, because I will be taken by surprise the Day of the Fall.

        Three books of three siblings cursed by a misunderstood mother, leaving only her first daughter alive, and I am the one who bears an immortal and everlasting sorrow.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License