One year

SUMMER-SOUL-WINTER

Six o’clock. Between the gray, cold concrete walls, the most sinful thoughts rushed to freedom. The blood gave to drink the strongest poison in the world, for the whole body. The brain was drunk with rotting thoughts that led to the embrace of death. Things wouldn’t be so dramatic if I hadn’t ruined my life myself. Let what a terrible hand of fate have pushed me into devil’s mouth, but such reasoning only further comforted and made the value of feeling innocent, irresponsible. I didn’t know the path to change. I felt too weak for that. I couldn’t do anything, even manage my crazy thoughts. Mysterious silhouettes of last night’s dream revolve around my mind, which anxiety playing a major role. A snow scarf enveloped the entire horizon. Now I only see this world with cold, glassy eyes. Play for me the symphonies of the wind, shine on me on the hardest, darkest ways, the eyes of the stars, long for me as that longing, sad, weeping autumn. And here I am sitting in my reflections, wondering how far I have gone and how I have succeeded. I look into the distant, calm, concentrated river, which reminds me of myself. After all, there are times when a human being feels abandoned. Unheard and crushed. Where to get the strength to stand up? To get up, clear the dirt and dust, is it possible? Is secretly, deep inside I still want to live, and maybe that voice in my mind is right – not worth it? There is no goal, no desire, no dream left. I couldn’t call the life, what’s left. A short second and everything collapsed. An insignificant detail that brought happiness into the graves. The blow of fate, drowning everything you fought for, for which you strive with all your might, you fought diligently and became the best in the eyes of the world, but you lost your own soul. Turn around and come back. Will anyone come to meet you? God is trying to heal me, to restore my soul, and I only want to fall asleep forever or to die at all.

                      Eight in the evening. I am not afraid of death because I believe in living in another room of the universe. I believe as firmly, as a man embraced by death, believes that God hears his words of final repentance. Why should death be frightening? After all, it’s nothing more than the end of one chapter, in a book that has no end. I knew I had a guardian angel who left my dreams. Although I no longer had Goda in my dreams, I felt her breath in every step. And that extraordinary feeling in difficult moments that someone supports you and believes in you more than you could ever believe in yourself. The phenomenon of Goda, I couldn’t call it any other way, made me believe that God exists. That there are an afterlife and an uninterrupted journey of souls on all levels. And now Goda is next to me, only in another plane. Or maybe I'm wrong? If I could turn back time and relive this life from the beginning, would I change something? Definitely yes. Goda would be born, she would be with me. And I would better live a simple life without writing, but I would have a sister. But would I then appreciate the moments with her, would I love her enough? Who knows... I feel it all like a hot imprint, which I will never delete. This story is identical to my identity. I reach the window and see the moon – looks at me with sad eyes, as if quietly sensing the inevitably approaching chasm, horror, heartache. I feel like I’m sinking into the abyss of despair because I don’t see the point anywhere in this world anymore. And it’s not depression. It has become a way of life. This is a new, inevitable state. Like a strong magnet does not launch for a moment and does not retreat even at the slightest distance. The whole world seems to stop and I try to listen in those minutes of silence. I hear the breath of the soul, the restless heartbeat, the quiet reluctance to live. Someday my eyes will be closed forever by stray death. When I think about it, it gets cold. I am glad that the pain will end, on the other hand, I am afraid because I could have lived differently. Much more meaningful, but I wasn’t determined, I didn’t dare, I was scared. I’m afraid my whole existence has been like pointless drifting in the sea before drowning. Retreat, move away, turn away, leave, escape, go out, tear off, say goodbye. I forgot what it means not to hear my thoughts, to deliberately not listen to that junk-filled stream that turns my peace into chaos. Strange how time works. It erases the faces of loved ones from memory, but with each passing day, make you long for them for more and more. How are Gidis, mom, grandma? How is Goda?

                      Ten in the evening. The hard work I put into writing "One Year" brought fame and fortune, but then destroyed everything. It’s my curse, an inseparable shadow that has kept me from living. I hated every word I wrote. I was ridiculed by my own creation. To tell some stories words are not enough, because those stories do not fit into any frames. While words may seem omnipotent, you don’t always manage to find the right ones. I still feel the presence of Goda. Watching the stars, I see her. And when one of them falls – Goda with me. For me, it’s a sign. In general, the appearance of Goda in dreams was a revelation of a mystery. Not just my family story, but the secrets of life. I learned a lot from Goda and I am grateful for that. But no knowledge could bring me back a sister. Pity. And I won’t change that. After this story, I changed a lot. I became serious even more, also I was disappointed with all that had made me happy before. I laughed less, I looked up even more often. Although I knew God does exist, I no longer believed in his justice. I didn’t read books anymore. And I never wrote again. I couldn't. I took a black book as hell off the shelf and threw it into the fire. The flames engulfed her in delight. In my mind, I returned to the rye field, which had been soaked with memories. In wide fields where there is nothing that could hurt, injure, make you anxious. True happiness lived here. Not in the money, not in the rays of glory, not even in the material things I have always wanted because I didn’t know what it meant to have them. True happiness is peace of mind and being with Goda. I would love to be with her, I would like to be able to breathe again. I would love to become the same child I was again. And to dream again. Only this time more careful, because dreams do come true. Of course, asking for the appropriate price for it. Sink, forget, drown in silence, feel the freshness of the wind, run barefoot through the dew. Once I have heard the saying – to see the dawn, you must not sleep. But I don’t wait for it anymore. If the whole world turns away cold and I have nothing left, except memories of Goda, I will probably be able to be happy.

                      Midnight. I had to wash all that dirt, pour away sad thoughts and emotions into the water. I slowly went to the second floor. From the closet, I picked up clean clothes and turned into the bathroom. While hot water flowed into the bath in a large stream, I turned off the light and lit a few candles. I added essential oil to the water. On the couch, I put the clothes brought from the closet – a black sweater and loose, comfortable pants. In the twilight, with gentle hand movements, I slowly took off my clothes and tossed them in the laundry box. Against the background of running water sounds, I passed through a huge mirror in the bathroom. For some reason, I stopped to admire the gold ornaments carved in the frames, the beautiful and meticulous lines that hugged the reflection of the mirror. And then I looked at my body. What do I see? I see myself. And not only. I see eyes as wide and deep as this universe, an unfathomable galaxy with all the constellations. I see a story recorded in my eyes that no one should erase, just as no one needs to know it. I see my life, pain and euphoria, catharsis and heartache, past incarnations of the soul, secret desires, thought structures, the most disgusting intentions of the spirit, selfish desires and unique goodness and service, love of life and devotion. I am amazed at, how much oppositions fits in the reflection of this mirror and how much difference the human soul accommodates within itself. All I have left is a burnt area of the soul, a heart drowned in grief, and meaningless anticipation of death.

"How lovely your eyes are." Came the voice from the mirror.

"And what an awful story is written in them," I replied.

"Karina, you had to make a decision. Remember?" Goda said, and a bright light shone in the mirror. "And you chose right. Not to hurt mom or me, but to reveal the truth. And to reveal your talent at the same time. This story will teach the world to appreciate the value of the new life. This story will make the world a better place, although the price of this is the ruined life of one family. But the truth has its price. And we paid for it. Sister, you have to get up, wipe away your tears, and get rid of guilt. It’s all over, you’ve accomplished your mission you were called to. All the paths to a dream life have opened up for you – you have become a world-famous writer. I am proud of you. Mom, uncle, and grandma will forgive you. Sooner or later."

"Where have you been? Why you didn't show up?" I approached the mirror and held out my hand, looking at her shining blue eyes. She finally looked happy.

"I was always around. And I will be." Goda came closer and our hands touched. "I have something for you." She showed me a white envelope and handed it to me. "Tell me your last wish… What do you want, Karina?"

"To fade away with you. That’s all I really want."

"Your story is not over yet. It’s just beginning. Like mine is. I have to travel because I am invited to a new life before we both meet at the next and be together again. And for all of this thanks to you, Karina. The black ocean is dwindling." Goda slowly stepped away from the mirror, but I still felt the happiness and fullness she radiated. Before turning away, she said. “We did it…"

                      I knelt in front of the mirror and, lit by the heavenly rays, I was watching my sister walk away. There were deep scars on her back carved with painful streaks. I understood what it was and for what. I counted the scars. There were as many scars, as many times she visited my dreams. Some were healed, others were still bleeding and open. But I didn't felt any pain emanating from the mirror. I was flooded with strange bliss and the realization that God is not making mistakes. Covered in peace I go to the bath and lie down in warm water, with the letter in my hands. With a smile I am drowning in the depths of black water, forgetting the past and all the understanding of who I am, who I was, or who I could be. Meanwhile, tears of happiness fall on a white sheet with the inscription – TO ALL UNBORN...