She

For as long as I could remember, I'd had a habit of gazing at beautiful girls. It often got me into trouble, but I was always willing to do anything for the sake of beauty and the opportunity to admire it. When I was in boarding school, my classmates considered me a bit of a lunatic. This wasn't far from the truth; no one before me climbed a lightning rod to gaze at Anie, the lovely teacher with whom I had math lessons, to see the twinkle in her eye and admire her graceful movements. Spying on her had its consequences. Serious ones.

Voyeurism was a ritual that took place every week at a specific time and always in the same place. Every Friday around 6 p.m., a beautiful girl (by the way, the most beautiful I'd ever met) would attend extracurricular ballroom dancing classes. These were held in the gymnasium, a large one, but not the most representative one, so there were no bleachers. This was

both a nuisance and a convenience. On the one hand, I had to use all the strength of my weak muscles, but I was incognito, invisible. Besides gazing at her face on Fridays, I adored gazing directly into her eyes. Her eyes were so deep I could have sunk into them and never emerged, and their brilliance blinded me from any distance. That glint of perfect brown inflamed me. Her eyes were inviting yet terrifying in their perfection. Her full lips, with every movement, offered a small invitation to touch them with my own... She had long, straight brown hair. She usually wore it loose, though there were days when she braided it. Her face radiated warmth and kindness. Her skin was smooth as silk, the color of milk chocolate, with a charming flush on her cheeks. Her body was perfectly proportioned, nothing too much, nothing too little, just right for my eyes. Whenever I had the chance, during breaks, math class, or other occasions, I practically devoured her with my eyes. I savored every step, word, and deed I had the opportunity to see or hear.

Minutes, hours, days, months passed, and I still couldn't stop gazing with adoration and admiration at Anna. As time passed, she became even more beautiful, though I didn't know and couldn't fathom how perfection could become more perfect. Every Friday was more important to me than Sunday, filled with incredible visual impressions. Intoxicated by the views, I opened my notebook and filled it with entries of all kinds, but with a common theme: Anna and her beauty. From the beginning of the year until Christmas, I wrote over half of my 100-page notebook; I didn't even realize how I had filled half of it with feelings pouring straight from my heart. My heart alternately suffered and rejoiced, and all my eyes could do was rejoice at the sight of this representative of objective beauty.

The holiday break arrived. A good number of my friends had gone home, including a girl I cared about, Ania. It was very sad news, but life had to go on. Her departure also had its advantages; other parts of my body were circulated when I was around her; the blood in my cheeks was very pleasant to be around. I could clear my mind of strange thoughts connected with the beautiful lady. Another thing connected with the absence of several people: the ability to explore their rooms. I had a good relationship with Mr. Ryszard, the janitor; he trusted me, sometimes giving me small jobs to do on the side. Rysiek could repay me for all my sacrifices. I asked for the key to the dark-skinned beauty's room. He agreed on one condition: I had to do it very discreetly. And so I did. I prepared thoroughly for the room visit. I carefully studied my notebook, full of memories and reflections. The conclusion was simple: I decided to write Ania a letter. The content was obvious. After Friday dinner, I quickly went to Anna's room. Respecting her privacy and giving myself the opportunity to discover her secrets under more appropriate conditions, I didn't open it, took nothing, or move anything. All I did was leave the envelope with the letter. The envelope read:

"Truly existing light

is the only one in this world,

inaccessible to

the unenlightened and unintelligent. It blinds

a few, giving respite. Its rays

illuminate their minds and bodies, like the sun

for the dark rest. It doesn't exist,

defies all laws,

no matter the time of day,

darkness doesn't see the Black Sun."

I've never been a good poet, nor was there any sign of a change in a better direction. What could a blinded yet enlightened boy write that would make sense? Nothing clever, perhaps, but perfectly expressive of feeling. I left the voluminous envelope thus described on her pillow. Leaving the room, I turned off the light, closed the door, turned the key in the lock, and headed toward the darkness of the corridor that led to my room. I collapsed onto the bed, full of hope and positive energy. I felt I had fulfilled my obligation to "Black Sun." Now all I had to do was wait. Wait for her return. Wait for her to read the letter and see how she would react. Would she laugh it off and throw it away, or would it intrigue her and she would respond to my plea. The door was closed – I had handed over the key, what I had done

and written, I couldn't take back.

The long holiday break was over. It could have lasted forever, but then I would have been forever in suspense, and in that case, I would have lost my mind, and then Anna would have become so distant, more distant than she was then, so far beyond my reach that I could barely see her on the horizon. The two weeks off from school flew by as quickly as the week at school, and finally, the long-awaited Saturday arrived. The afternoon passed peacefully, snow was falling, and from my room, I had a beautiful view of the forest stretching in the distance. It was six o'clock, and my friends and many of the girls were getting ready to go to the city—to a disco. I never really liked that kind of entertainment—not my cup of tea. I didn't even keep track of which ladies were going to the dance. I preferred a bit more excitement. It was almost seven o'clock, so I got dressed, went out, and headed for the large boulder by the lake. I was sure I knew it—everyone had seen it on their first day at school. At twenty past seven, I gazed peacefully at the moon's reflection in the lake for the last time. From then on, I focused my gaze on the path to the lake, searching for the object of my desire. I stared so intently that tears fell from my eyes. I quickly wiped them away. And just as I was about to strain my eyes again, I noticed a figure. It wasn't tall, it wasn't a man. With each passing moment, it grew closer. When I became certain that Anna was approaching, I decided to go out to her.

When we stood facing each other, we were both immersed in silence. As I was getting ready to say, "Ania...", I felt her hand on my cheek, a sudden rush of blood to my cheek, and a stinging sensation. I was slapped and heard, "Don't come near me, you bastard." After that, she ran toward the school, staring—I had no intention of chasing her. After ten minutes of standing there, staring into the fog, I went to the lakeshore. Unrestrained and unforced, tears flowed. Many of them. My body suffered too. After an hour of sitting and gazing at the moonlight, I wiped my face and calmly walked to my room, took a hot shower, and fell into a deep sleep.

I returned from meeting that psycho. I thought it would be someone normal, but no, it had to be the school psychopath – Jonas. The letter I read was poetry in itself, but it had something special about it.

From psychedelia. But despite everything, I decided to find out who this suitor was. My heart was pounding terribly. When I reached the lake, I saw Jonah's face. My legs and heart remained as they were, but not from excitement, but from unbridled anger. We stood there for a minute, rage building inside me. I wanted to make it clear to him that I wanted nothing to do with him, but from his letter, it seemed he wasn't so narrow-minded, so I slapped him on the cheek and told him to piss off. I ran away. I didn't want to think about what he might do. Jonah is something of a legend; there are many contradictory myths surrounding him, but I had no intention of finding out.

I'd never noticed Jonah, never realized someone like him could love me. Now, against my will, I began to look at him more closely. He looked very subdued. It wasn't my fault.

Winter passed, spring beautifully revived nature, and summer arrived. The last few months were very busy. Despite the pain, my thoughts were still focused on Anna. I couldn't get her out of my mind. It was stronger than me. Her eyes still sparkled like the moon on that memorable evening. She still radiated a beautiful aura. But an aura that was inaccessible and forbidden to me. I realized that it wasn't in her will for me to pursue her. I understood, and I changed my life. Only one thing remained—my notebook and pen were still in motion. Without observing the "Black Sun," I had more free time. The rest of the winter and the beginning of spring, I wallowed in helplessness. Books brought solace. Within a few months, I became one of the school library's most frequent visitors. There would surely be a reward for such activity. Every Saturday evening, I went to the lake to sit, think, and reminisce about the Sabbath. I also had various fantasies about the potential future. If events had unfolded differently, my life would have been different, significantly different from the current one. I'd already completed much of my plan; only the last point remained. When I'd accomplished it, we'd find out in the near future. Everything was ready. Just the final preparations, and I'd be sure I hadn't made any mistakes.

It's a beautiful, sunny Thursday in June. I'd just finished chemistry and headed for the locker room. Physical education was about to begin outside; we were supposed to play soccer. I changed and headed to the field. I did as Mrs. Smith instructed. The teams were chosen. The game began. Half an hour and not a single goal. It looked like a goalless half. And so it was.

I'm ready. Everything is going according to plan. Soon, everything will be clear and known.

The whistle blew, the end of halftime. I walked tiredly toward my desk. Everyone was turned in surprise toward the school building. I heard the words: "The Truly Existing Brightness." I saw Jonah on the school roof. He stood, a snow-white dove in his hand, in the middle of the roof. I don't know how he got there. Everyone was looking at him, and he was reciting his work, looking directly at the sun. He did it all with a straight face. When he finished, he released the dove. Then he lost his balance. I couldn't watch him fall, so I covered my eyes. A moment later, I heard the crack of bones breaking. Tears welled up in my eyes. Something inside hurt incredibly. Everyone was crying and in shock. I don't know what compelled me, but I approached the already dead Jonah. I remembered that he kept his "greatest treasures" in his pants pockets; he only had one pocket. I put my hand in there, and it shook unmercifully. I felt the paper; it was an envelope marked "For Anna." I opened it, and what I read shocked me. His notes indicated that he had killed himself only because he couldn't be with me. He also instructed me to retrieve his notebook from under his bed from his room. I was very afraid, but I respected his last wishes; the very fact that I had killed him weighed heavily on my conscience. I opened the thick notebook. Once again, Jonasz surprised me, this time positively. What I read was different from what he had written in his first letter; it was beautiful, free from psychedelia. Because of my ignorance and fear, a man had died who, despite the myths, was more valuable than I had expected. I had killed him, and I will never know what he wanted to tell me.