"Will this ever end?" With a trembling hand, as if in slow motion, she reached for another tranquilizer, which, at least for a while, allowed her to function normally. This fear, like a nightmare, was stripping her of what remained of her humanity.
"It's my imagination—but is it really?
An ashtray full of cigarette butts, clothes strewn across the floor, enough to trip over, piles of unread magazines, presented a pathetic sight. She slowly reached for the pen; the pill began to work, and she felt calmer, but her trembling hands prevented her from holding it comfortably. Her nervous gaze wandered around the cluttered apartment, which not so long ago she had considered her sanctuary and haven, a haven she cherished so much.
"I have to write… I have to write…
That day… it was exactly four days ago."
"I just got back from a trip to Egypt, which I won in one of the competitions. I was happy and overjoyed like a little child when I found out I'd won. I'd never had the chance to go on such a trip because of my finances. Well, I'm not exactly well-off, and my salary was enough to get me through another month. I'm not talking about poverty or not having enough to eat, no, that's not the point. I simply lived relatively comfortably, but not enough to afford such a trip. It was the pinnacle of my dreams." "
If I knew then... if I knew..." a soft groan escaped my sore throat.
"Seven days of pure bliss...
Sightseeing, sightseeing, and more sightseeing. I didn't let my legs rest for even a moment. I knew I wouldn't be so lucky again, so I wanted to make the most of this opportunity." Another lit cigarette and the quiet sound of a deep breath. The pen began its journey once again across the crumpled sheet of paper in the diary she'd been writing for what seemed like forever. Now it resembled an old, worn-out book.
"It was the last day of my wonderful adventure, and I decided to spend it wandering through the shops in search of unusual souvenirs so I could later charm my colleagues with them.
It looked like another hot day. In the morning, as usual, I dressed hurriedly, not wanting to waste a single minute, and went downstairs to the small but cozy hotel, which was already bustling with activity and bustle. But I ignored it; I wanted to get out as quickly as possible to stroll the narrow streets one last time and leave this image in my memory for as long as possible." Her small hand smothered another cigarette in the already full ashtray beside her.
She rose and impatiently walked towards the kitchen for another cup of strong coffee. She glanced casually at the mirror hanging above her and laughed at her reflection.
Her hair was disheveled, her dress burned in places by cigarettes and stained with coffee that she couldn't hold in her shaking hands, and her long-unwashed makeup gave her face a grotesque appearance.
"What happened to me? Where is that woman with plans for the future? What happened to my house?!" Sobbing, she collapsed onto the carpet, then jumped up and ran to the kitchen. Mug in hand, muttering something quietly through parched lips, she sat down on the couch again.
"I have to write... I have to write, no one will believe me... they'll think I'm crazy..."
She glared hatefully at the small music box standing nearby.
"It's because of you!" She pointed at the box with a trembling finger.
"It's because of you that my life has fallen apart," she said, a scream on her lips and a frantic look in her eyes, as if she wanted to throw the object away, when the box, as if by magic, opened and began to play a mournful, almost mournful melody.
After a moment, the lid slowly swung open with a slight rustle, then closed with a loud snap. The silence that followed was deafening—the only sounds were hysterical laughter and the crack of another match being lit.
"I have to write...
" I was about to end my walk when, passing a tiny shop, my gaze landed on a small box in the window. The bag was already full of groceries, so I didn't want to overextend my already nearly depleted cash reserves, so I moved on resolutely. Unfortunately, something held me back, some invisible force prevented me from moving away. Despite myself, I turned around and headed towards the small shop, as if in a trance, pointing to the small box. I didn't even bother looking at it; I bought it immediately. When I left the shop, I was shocked by what I'd done. After returning to the hotel, I glanced at the small
box only once and smiled. I no longer felt any resentment for such a hasty action, although it had surprised me greatly.
I admit, I was already a little tired. It was wonderful, but I was already starting to miss the cold, home, normal food, and a moment of rest that I had so deprived myself of here. The subsequent rush of packing and leaving the next day allowed me to forget about the small box lying at the bottom of one of the suitcases until the day I returned.
I remember it like it was Wednesday. When I left the airport, I was happy, I'd had a wonderful adventure, and I didn't regret a thing. I arrived home late in the evening. I didn't feel like doing anything anymore, not even taking a bath. I just took off my dusty clothes and stretched out comfortably on the sofa in my room, not even realizing when I'd fallen asleep. The morning greeted me with whiteness, and snow was falling outside. I felt relatively rested, and considering the change in time and weather, I couldn't complain. I decided to start cleaning right after breakfast. Unpack the suitcases, throw the dirty clothes in the basket, and then look at the treasures you brought with you." The sound of footsteps on the stairwell breaks the profound silence. The footsteps roar in my ears like a herd of galloping horses… "
You're going crazy! "
"I can't stand it anymore!" A strangled groan escapes my swollen throat, and my rapid breath mixes with the fumes of tobacco smoke. The pen touches the sheet of paper, the scratch of the nib against the paper is audible.
"I unpacked my suitcases. Tired but happy, I sat comfortably on the carpet in my room, surrounded by a mass of souvenirs I'd brought from Egypt. I started looking at the arranged things when my gaze involuntarily reached a small box. I decided to examine it last. I remembered the moment when I bought it. My strange behavior still haunted me, and I felt uneasy.
I slowly took in the things I'd brought back from the trip and feasted my eyes on their beauty, but… I couldn't concentrate. The box standing nearby was alluring, drawing me to itself like a magnet. I could no longer resist its beauty.
That's what I thought then, but now I know it wasn't her… beauty. If I had known then… if I had known… I would never have opened it."
"Damn it!" With tears in her eyes, she threw the mug beside her, but it missed, shattering it into smithereens. She didn't care much at the moment – her shaking hand reached for another cigarette.
"I have to write more… more… I have to warn others…"
I took the box gently in my hands, it was beautiful, so… extraordinary!?
Someone had made a true work of art, it's amazing I bought such a trinket for pennies – I examined it very carefully. At the bottom, there was a tiny pocket attached, in which a key was placed – I took it out gently and began examining the box, searching
for a matching hole, admiring its beauty. It looked so unreal, I felt as if I was holding a lost, ancient relic in my hand. I was enchanted by it. It looked the same from all sides, at one point I thought it was all one piece, and the key wasn't just for that. boxes - maybe someone simply hid a key from something completely different underneath, because to be honest I didn't see any hinges anywhere to which the lid could be attached.
I was already resigned when my gaze fell on a small recess between two jewels on the short side of the box. Delighted and excited at the same time, I slowly inserted the tiny key, with a strange trepidation in my heart. I was apprehensive when, turning the key ever so slightly, I heard a soft, almost sighing sound. I slowly lifted the ornate lid. What I saw inside exceeded my wildest expectations: the box was… empty. Only a mournful melody emerged, as if from the bottom of the box. The inside was lined with a beautiful velvet material, free of a speck of dust; the interior looked brand new. I was stunned; the mournful melody, like a mourner's song, pierced my head until it hurt terribly. I slammed the lid shut and collapsed back against the couch, surprised and terrified by my discovery. I knew this couldn't be real, it was just a bad dream that I just had to wake up from." - the terrifying ringing of the phone, a nervous glance at the table, and an indifferent return to the same state from a moment ago...
"I have to write more... more..." - only the crack of another match being lit, smoke rising from the ashtray, and hysterical giggling from above the crumpled diary remind me that there's a living being in this room.
"The third day has passed since then. This cursed melody won't leave me alone, enslaving me, killing me slowly."
"I have no strength to defend myself... Someone help me..." A soft sob breaks the deafening silence.
Another bell rang, this time the doorbell, a rustle, and the deafening bang of the door being forced open. She looked dully into the eyes that loved her, not recognizing the person. Only for a moment, as if regaining consciousness, she reached for the diary with the writing, and in a soft whisper, she uttered, "Read and beware, do not open the box."
A loud cry tore from his throat as they took her away. He held her diary to his heart like a talisman, and he cried, cried, cried...
He slowly sank onto the couch where, moments ago, his dearest person had been sitting. She was full of life and so joyful.
"No!" He looked at the diary, and with tears in his eyes, he began to read slowly, line by line. When he finished, he looked around the room.
The box was nowhere to be found - he cried loudly again.
Brak komentarzy:
Prześlij komentarz