To take her crown…

In other circumstances I would have notice his black curled hair and the deep brown eyes, his determination and strength, his calm and still firm tone of voice, a voice made to sing rock ballads under starry skies. Not now. Now he’s just a police officer and my eyes are blurry from tears. I’m not being interrogated, they just need me to remember every little detail.

Because Ellie is missing and her final note was addressed to me.

“They said I’m sick, they said I need help. But their normality has no poetry, no castles, no dragons. princesses and heroes. Their reality has no sparks and no adventure. Why would I stay here? Maybe they’re the sick ones, maybe I just awoke to a brand new world: my own. I’m leaving, Princess. You know where to find me, but ssshhhttt…don’t tell them! I’ll be waiting.”

5 years ago

The beautiful woman in front of me seemed like descending from a royal family. Long, elegant fingers holding the cup of tea with a certain elegance. She had a light in her blue eyes, a serenity and still a sadness, the nostalgia of a lost crown…

I just had finished reading the manuscript, a story that kept building itself. A story that came to haunt her. Characters that came to life in her nightmares, talking to her, calling her, asking her to join them in the world of shadows.

Her hands were trembling and she spilled a little tea. I saw her blushing and I hear her apologizing, like she would have comitted a crime. And I was thinking that the only crime is the lack of love in her life.

“It’s because of the medicines they prescribed for my…psychosis. Because I told them that I see shadows and I talk to them. And because of this book I wrote, a cursed book…it has spells on it and…”

She broke into tears.

“What do we need to do, to break the spell, Ellie? How can I help you?”

“The book has no end…writing an end it will break the curse and end the spell. I need your help in writing the end. Please, Princess, will you help me?”

“You call me Princess, why is this?”

She smiled through tears, a childlike smile, like she was bot surprised and happy that I’m finally asking the question.

“I call you Princess because that’s what you are. In the kingdom of feelings and emotions, in your kingdom, you are the kindest princess I ever met. And in my book, you’re also a warrior.”

“What am I fighting for?”

“For your soul, of course. See, once you cross the bridge, once you meet The Shadow, your life becomes a battle after another. You lose sometimes, but you never surrender. You endanger yourself and, sometimes, your loved ones, but you’ll protect them beyond life itself. I gave you powers in these pages, beyond what you ever imagined. But wait…”

“So, am I fighting a shadow? Are we?”

“There’s a charm in being so silly, isn’t it, Princess? You love The Shadow, you love him even in his darkest moments. But the only real danger comes when he starts loving you back. You’ll forget, sometimes, what world you belong to.”

“How do I get to his world? Maybe finding him would help me setting you free and writing an ending to your book.”

“The magic mirror. This one!”

“My laptop?”

“Use it wisely, or you’ll get trapped inside it. Or better not. Forget everything I told you, okay Princess? Don’t fulfill my predictions! Swear to me you’ll never go there, you’ll never find him. Swear!”

And I swore, convinced that the medicines will help her get some rest. Convinced that I just witnessed a hallucinating story produced by her illness. I visited her, from time to time, writing my observations in “the magic mirror” meaning my laptop. I was not her therapist, not her psychiatrist, but the only friend she still had. The only family, until she was too weak to get up and tell her story.

The officer had an ironic smile.

“Well, not too weak to fool the nurses and run away. Let us know immediately if she contacts you.”

In other circumstances I would have notice the way he touched my shoulder, leading me to the door. But in this story, there are no princesses and no heroes. Just a missing queen, searching for her lost crown.

 

 

Note: In the category “Ellie, the untold story” the names, ages and locations are modified to protect the protagonists.

Note and update: Ellie was found a few hours later. She is safe.

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You’re still with me in my dreams…

the-best-top-desktop-fantasy-wallpapers-hd-fantasy-wallpaper-13-1In my dreams, you kiss my eyes. I keep them closed, smiling through my happy tears and, while whispering the secret words, you laugh of their struggle to open to light.

There are places only you know, only you touch, places deep within my soul. Sweet heaven’s rain, for my thirsty heart. In my dreams, you take me there and let me feed my aching need for love. In my dreams you love me.

And I fall and I rise, above ashes, clouds, storms and angry winds. I find a rainbow and I paint our love in magnificent colors. In my dreams you give me wings.

We’ll be together, always and for ever…that’s never a lie, because angels cannot lie. In my dreams, you are my guiding light.

Don’t…don’t wake me up, don’t take me back. Let me dream just a little more. It’s such a long time, longer than eternity, since you last held me tight, keeping me warm and safe. In my dreams you are my shelter.

And we dance, and we laugh, we make plans and we cry because we know…

It’s only in my dreams.

So, if I cry in the cruel morning light…

if I say your name like a curse I’m willing to break…

if I fight and scream in the agony of my bitter heart…

if I hate you, if I blame you, if I kill you…it’s only because you took my dream away.

Fly peacefully, angel of love, guardian of dreams, there’s no rest for the unlovable. Wish me goodnight and fly away…you’ll still be with me in my dreams.

 

 

 

I’ll let you go, I’ll let you fly…

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Because my love wasn’t meant to be your prison, it wasn’t about frustrations and bitterness. It was clear and pure like the blue sky, beautiful and unreachable like the heavens above. My vision was all about joy…

He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Don’t be silly, I’m happy with you.”

But his blue eyes were searching for the immensity of a big, free horizon and his arms were wide open to an endless flight.

You love me.

It wasn’t a question, even if it sounded like one. A simple fact, an honest affirmation that he confirmed, holding her a little closer. “And you don’t?” It was meant to sound a little childish, a little playful, but his trembling voice turned it into drama.

Love will never be enough, wouldn’t it? 

She whispered the words like a sacred prayer. The only voice that answered was the voice of her conscience. She’ll never be the right one. Never enough. Different worlds and a broken bridge. How do they meet in the middle? When honesty is killing illusions and tenderness is nothing but temptation and sin.

That’s why I’ll let you go. 

Crying eyes and crying hearts. This was not in the script, not as she imagined. Neither she pictured his hands cupping her face, kissing her like he was fighting for the last breath of air. She did not struggled so he stopped. “You saw behind the role, you saw it through. You saw ME beyond my walls.”

She gently took his hand.

I never told you, but I saw more. You flying free, reaching out to such a high blue, such an impossible dream to me. You finding her. The one who can be more where I am less.

His face turned pale, his eyes filled with guilt…oh, he did, He’s already there, one step away, half heart already estranged. “My sweet angel, I…”

So she just ran.

He opened his wings and fulfilled his destiny. He is loved, he is well, he is free.

Was she an angel for letting him go? Was she a fool? Was she just a woman in love?

Was she faithful, was she brave?

Am I? Are you?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some nights we’re just breathing fire!

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I saw her running like crazy, towards (what she believed to be) the only visible light. Ignoring the pain of breathing too fast and too deep, sighting with her feet stumbling on rocks and thorns, bitten by snakes and flames. I saw her crossing the bridge of fire, going right into the heart of that vibrant black light.

His aura. Or was it the black of his eyes? She’s biting her bottom lip, agonizing for a drop of water. Gasping for air in the burning air. And still, she looks happy.

Here I am, with everything in me. Take me, I want what you promised. To run with you and to be yours. Take this brokenness inside and make me whole. Give me life…for I belong to you.

He’s slowly turning to face her, his velvet wings almost touching her pale skin. The slightly amused smile and the flickering flames were not what she expected. Discouraged and alone, she’s clinging to her only hope. No dignity left in the empty shell of her heart. No pride and no sense of self value.

So she kneels in front of him.

And his cruel laugh breaks the last remain of her fragile inner strength. She breaks, she cries, she begs, she dies…

Really? I mean…REALY?

Just as I imagined, his voice has the force of a thunder. Just as she always fantasized, his words bring her to life.

Dark, dead fingers grabbing her arm are forcing her to stand. She trembles in front of him, waiting for her sentence.

Please. 

If she would only look, if she would only dare, she would see the flames in his gaze and the snake wrapping around his neck. His wings burn with the fire of hell. His touch has the coldness of a thousand stones and when he grabs her chin, she feels torn in pieces.

So you want ME? 

Yes. Yes! More than anything. More than life. More than love…

He pushes her for no apparent reason. Just to see her falling? Just to see her crawling back to his feet? From where I’m standing, this is simply…unfair. Isn’t it?

SILENCE!

She stops sighting, she barely breaths, waiting for his next move. But his tone is arrogant and harsh.

Weak and useless. Despicable. The one who falls so easily will never walk among us. WE are the ones who breath fire. And you cannot feed our desires. 

Knowing he’ll fly away, feeling she’ll never get a second chance, she does the unimaginable. Oh, sweet girl, did you really thought…?

Yes, she did. She clung to his wings and tore them apart. Black feathers and black blood, the horror of an endless desperate cry…

Some nights I breath fire too. In pure pain and deep agony. Ever since he left. He closed a door and opened the gates of hell. So take me now, dance me to the edge and let me burn!

(He’s not worthy, he’s really not worthy of your sacrifice!) – I shout in vain. It has to be her free choice.

Death stares at her with frightened eyes. Broken wings and broken hearts…when will it end? When will we learn?

I cannot take you. There’s ONE who calls you “my child” and I have no power over HIM. Do NOT call me again, you fool!

She raise her head and smiles brightly.

Her triumph is my victory and her happy-end is my beginning.

In love with life, because we’re worth it.

 

 

 

 

All credits for the image goes to https://adela1015.deviantart.com/art/SKETCH-22-Mount-Fuji-333529164

So tired of love songs…

6594026315_fec38821cd_bHe looks at me with such innocent eyes. “But you liked the music…” He wants to know why do I look so sad. Why do I feel so alone. Why can’t I listen to the damn radio anymore. “Why?”

Torn between love and hate, reality and appearance, “you and me” and “us”, I choose to lay still, waiting for the storm to pass me by. It happened before and I survived, so I embrace the silence and I just close my eyes. Just…don’t. Don’t make me listen to this melody on repeat.

Do anything else…

Run your fingers through my hair, like you used to…

Kiss my neck gently, sending shivers through my body, like it was before…

Hold me tight, let me feel the warmth and the safety of your arms around me, like you promised to…

Or, maybe, walk away, leaving me with my thoughts. I’ll let you go peacefully, like I always do.

Just stop the love songs.

“I thought you like this playlist.” It’s not making sense, is it? But my sadness it’s a tender one and these tears are meant to make my eyes brighter. He’ll never understand. We played it too often and too easily…the game of love. We took it for granted and I lost. It wasn’t me, it wasn’t you…so who’s to blame?

But, if only for one moment, he could touch my heart, he would understand. He would feel it breaking in pieces and he would know…

“Why are you so sad?”

Because I love you. And it’s killing me inside.

 

 

 

 

All credits for the photo goes to: https://www.flickr.com/photos/skynoir/6594026315/

 

Who am I beneath the lies?

Butterflies-Free-Desktop-WallpaperAll the love in the Universe and an endless gentleness reflected in his eyes. What a blessed, precious moment, to be taken by the hand and leaded to the silver stairs…

-The time has come, precious soul. Who are you beneath the lies?

Ashamed and empty, I can’t find the answer. I don’t even remember how and why, when and where my truths were replaced by lies. My conscience is a bleeding wound and my sorrows are piercing through this false serenity…

-Don’t cry, sweet little heart. Facing the truth is never painful, is all about healing. Isn’t it why you called me? 

And the blue of a pure sky is smiling closer to me. And I can’t remember my own lies. And I don’t know the meaning of truth. I lost it…

-Another lie? You said you’re lost in the darkness and that was a lie too. How could you be lost when your light is my light and I saw it shining brighter than the stars?

And you called yourself “desperate” and “lonely”. You spoke about the lack of love. When have you stopped loving me? Because I still do. I still love you. 

No! These are all lies! My lies…I never stopped loving him, I never…I just…stopped loving myself…

-You said you’re restless, you said you’re scared. You wrote stories about fallen angels, about flying with broken wings. Beautiful, perfect lies…my graceful butterfly. I want to be your wings, will you let me? Will you dedicate your gentle flight to me? Will you be loyal and will you be faithful to the one who puts you above all?

I cry crystal tears and they’re the water of life that my soul was so thirsty for. I will. He takes me into his loving arms and I am saved. The little runaway finally found her home. He is right, truth is never painful, never in vain and love is above anger, forgiveness is above resentment. His love is above my guilty conscience.

-No, I’m not here to judge you, I’m here to take away this burden. Look into my eyes. Who are you beneath the lies?

Who am I beneath the lies? Oh, Lord, who am I? Will I ever know? Please bare with me, I’m almost there. I feel the answer, just like I feel your love. Forgive me for every bad word, forgive all the lies I ever said to myself in my blind search of freedom.

For now I know who I am.

I AM YOURS.

 

 

 

Image copyrights http://www.wallpaperspick.com/butterflies-free-desktop-wallpaper.html/

Unaware of her light

1696e5ff-98cb-470e-8d98-d7ce15c398b6Inappropriate, inadequate and immoral. Those were my thoughts when I saw him laughing and joking at the funeral. Of course I didn’t said anything, neither did the others, it would have been so impolite. I know, yes, I know…laughing in front of a tragedy is a defensive mechanism. Even so…

And it’s a tragedy when a young man dies, leaving behind a beautiful wife, a child, parents, grandparents and so many friends. He wasn’t a friend of mine, I didn’t even knew him, but my husband did. That’s why I’m here. Surrounded by grieving people and this man that laughs of anything…

It’s my party so I’ll laugh if I want to…

He’s singing now, looking straight at me, no doubt about it. I’m cold, I’m tired, I’m sad…and a stranger is singing to me in front of a crowd.

He’s touching my hair and that’s too much.

I don’t think I know you.

-Oh really? You don’t think you know me! Well, you don’t. Let’s keep it this way, shall we?

Too late. Hey, do you know the wife? Isn’t she a hottie?

-Please show some respect. She’s grieving…

She’ll live and she’ll love again. So will you.

-What???

He’s taking my hand and I go with him, like hypnotized. Away from the crying people. Away from the pain and loss. He looks deep into my eyes and I feel he knows my deepest thoughts.

You will live and love again. If you only allow yourself to get out of this tomb. If only you stop analyzing everything in terms of “mistakes”.

Just think about…

“It is a mistake that he’s laughing and making jokes at a funeral.”

“It is a mistake that he’s singing in front of the crying people.”

“Oh, what a mistake, to call the grieving wife…a hottie!”

“It’s a mistake that I’m so restless and I keep searching for love in all the wrong places.”

“Wait…isn’t it a mistake that I’m talking to this guy?”

A million mistakes and not a single ray of light! Not a single word of love! Phew, what a shame!

I want to shout at him and I want to cry…I want to ask him how does he know about me? What kind of a creature of darkness has told him my most secret doubts?

Darkness is when you repress the light inside you. When you chose not to share it, not to let it shine. That’s darkness, that’s evil…

I think I see regret in his eyes. A sweet nostalgia, like longing for something he’ll never have. Or is it me? Is it my heart the one that longs for an old forgotten love?

Unaware of her light, she builds prisons, higher and stronger, to imprison her heart…When will you change the story? 

He smiles at me, waving goodbye.

And, for the first time, I cry at his funeral.

 

 

 

 

Bridges of light

This post is dedicated to my dearest friend, Sharon. A wonderful, kind and generous person, a talented blogger, a blessing and a real support to me. You can read about her journey to become a healer in here:

https://caterpillars2butterfliesblog.wordpress.com/

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The old lady gave me the special smile, a mix of boredom and sarcasm with a very clear message. Next! Move on! What are you still waiting for?! I’d normally walk away, blaming the system, commenting about her lack of empathy, but today…

Today I’m not giving up. This morning I’m holding on to my faith and my bright smile. And I’m not walking away. Not without what I came for…

The old lady is losing her patience.

“Look Miss, you simply have no luck. I’ve searched for it, it’s not in here! Next!”

It’s not about luck, not at all. It’s about having faith.

I guess I said it out loud, because she dropped the papers and now she’s starring at me.

“Well, here is The Post Office, not a church. And I’ve searched EVERYWHERE for that letter or package or…whatever. Next!”

I’m pointing to the blue bag in the corner of the room.

Could you, please, search in that bag? I ‘m sure it’s in there!

“Of course NOT. That bag contains packages that will be returned to their senders. There’s absolutely NO CHANCE AT ALL that yours would be in there! Next!”

Please. It would mean very much to me.

She stops for a brief moment and analyzes me. Then she smiles.

“Okay, I get it. So…it’s from someone special…right?”

I smile back, knowing what I’m about to say. Exactly what I feel.

It is from someone very special to me. A very wonderful lady who lives far across oceans, but still, she became my best friend. My greatest support through every storm I’m meant to cross through. She’s strong, she’s kind, she’s brave. She’s someone I’m looking up to, a real warrior of light. A living prove that faith is not in words, but in actions. A reminder that people with hearts of gold still exists.

Her words of hope gave me strength more than once, her own journey inspired me to search for light even through darkness. Her generosity and her love are above everything I knew about people, so please…

“Look, Miss…”

And now I’m sure I have lost this battle. I’ll walk out quietly.

“Where are you going? Come on, let’s work on this miracle!”

And I heard her, like through a dream, shouting at her colleagues. The blue bag…and every worker from the post office with their hands covered in rust, the old lady giving orders, like every general, every commander of an important army would do. For me.

She hands me a yellow envelope and her smile has no trace of irony.

“There you go…I have no idea how, I really can’t understand these kind of things. It was lost and now it’s found…No, don’t thank me…you have a light in your eyes and a contagious smile. Never change, okay? Next!!!”

It was never lost, just misplaced.

I was never lost, just waiting to be found.

Thank you, Sharon, for finding me and for always saying the right words.

This is my way of telling you that the bridge of light we created between our worlds can do miracles. Be blessed!

 

Sad woman, don’t you cry! (a child’s perspective on depression)

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It’s 1 o’clock in the night and I’m not sleeping. I’m trying so hard not to move, not to make her aware that I’m there, sitting in my chair, with my arms wrapped tightly around my knees, imagining I’m inside my protective ball, where pain cannot pierce in…

I see her crying, it’s almost an hour since she started and she’ll probably continue all through the night. Her moves are automatic, robotic, she’s washing the dishes and she has plenty to wash. I’d offer to help, but I’m afraid to speak. I’m also afraid to cry even if I’m convinced that she wont notice.

She’s carrying an imaginary dialogue in her mind. I know it because, from time to time, her lips are moving and her eyebrows are raising just like in a conversation. I’m thinking that she might lose her mind, I’m thinking that she stopped loving me, I’m thinking I’m a burden to her.

It’s cold and I’m trembling, but there’s no way I’m going to sleep. I’m playing with the crumbles of bread on the table. The leftovers from our dinner…the table looks devastated, ugly, dirty and I don’t want this food! I wont eat and I wont sleep, I wont speak and I wont cry. I wont smile until…

She’s turning to me and I can’t even look at her. The swollen eyes, all red from crying, the greasy hair…She used to be beautiful, I hate this ugly side of her! She stars at me, but she can’t see me. She takes the big, sharp knife, the one I’m not supposed to touch and she’s starting to eat. That’s so silly, I’m laughing inside me, a nervous laugh. She’s eating the whole cake, piece by piece. She’s overweight and she’s eating the whole cake! The one I refused to taste before…

It’s my fault. I don’t know how, I don’t know why and I have no idea how to fix this. But it’s my fault. And I’m so small, so powerless, so…invisible. I hate her and I love her at the same time. I’m only 9…and I’m already a horrible person.

She needs a man in her life. Someone who’d make her laugh, someone who’d make her feel loved and beautiful. She needs the whole package! She needs a vacation, a sunny place. She needs a honeymoon. And I’m a burden. And my dad it’s an idiot. And she’s ugly, fat, depressive and hysterical. And I love her more than life itself…

It’s 2 o’clock in the night, I have school tomorrow. I leave her there, with the big knife, with her imaginary dialogue and her broken heart. I’m going to my room and I’m closing the door, using the key I stole from her. I open the window.

The boy from the Moon smiles at me. I smile back and I climb to the edge of my window. I open my arms like flying, but still I’m not brave enough. I still can’t take the fall. Maybe tomorrow.

“I swear I’ll never be like her! I’ll always be pretty and thin! I’ll never cry so my face wont get so ugly and wrinkled! I’ll wear pretty dresses and my hair will be long and shiny. My husband will love me! He’ll take me to sunny places and we’ll have the perfect family.”

Yeah, right.

Wasn’t it supposed to hurt?

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He was waiting for me by the lake, but I couldn’t look into his eyes. The early spring surrounding us had a special kind of glow. He knew I’m looking for this spring ever since I know myself…

“It just wasn’t meant for me…”

I said it so many times, in so many ways and now, that my time has passed, I just realized that it was always possible. But I have chosen winter instead of gentle warmth.

The lake was never that calm and blue and the waters are deeper than ever. I see my image reflected in it, just like a mirror.

“I’m too broken to love…”

I felt it so many times that it became a part of me. The poetic self, the blue heart, the rivers of tears, it was so beautiful to meditate, to write and to cry over my sadness. Over my loneliness. And I never seemed to choose happiness.

“But I was here all the time.”

Yes, he was. Indeed, he always cared, even when I stopped carrying about myself. And now he’s looking at me, inside me. Does he contemplate the struggle and the hurt? Does he see a terrible, frozen, stoned heart – the heart of a woman who never learned to give herself to love?

“All I see is a beautiful child, who imprisoned herself, for no real reason at all, behind bitterness and resentments. And I am sorry. I did it all to open your eyes…I protected you till sacrifice, I treasured you like a miracle that you are. I gave you everything and I loved you more than I loved Heaven.”

From where I’m standing I cannot see the bottom of the lake. I cannot feel the depth of his sadness. Every time I hurt myself, he feels a pain thousand times sharper than my own. And I hurt myself every day, every hour, even now…

“When you say you’re not worthy of love…”

“When you say you don’t want this life anymore…”

“When you say you have no one…”

He is right in every way! And if an endless abyss would open at my feet, it still wouldn’t be enough for me to hide my eyes. My guilty, teary, hopeless eyes…

“Don’t hide from me anymore, I will always love you. It’s not supposed to hurt, my child…Love it’s supposed to be beautiful. To flow freely like the blue waters. Rise up in love and look into my eyes…

Do you see ME now?”

I do and I recognize you, my Savior and my Lord. My Healer and my Love.

 

 

Image copyright: elen_studio – Shutterstock