Scissors that dripped red
Lady Vanessa came to see me today. She looked beautiful as ever. I loved it when she came but she came ever so little. She would bring me toys. She would pat my hair. She would ask me how I am and talked matters with my nurse. The same routine once a week since twenty-one years. I wondered if she would take me with her today. I had dressed well just in case. I had put on my best dress with yellow flowers on it but she didn’t notice. I guess she was in a hurry. Everyone said she was a very busy lady. Surely today she would take me along since it was her birthday and the whole town would be at the mansion. I tried to wish her but it came out as an incoherent mumble. The Lady looked at me with a strange expression. A look of heartbreak, disappointment and disgust. Her noble features mixed up these three expressions gracefully into an euphemism of concern. I was lost in shame when she left and only realized her absence as the scent she had brought with her began to dull.
I did go to the festivities that evening. But I remained in the balcony and looked down at the gathering from above. The main hall of the manor looked befitting of Lady Vanessa. My favorite was the chandelier, big and bright, its light illuminating the white washed walls and dark draperies. There was food on the tables, the likes of which the townsfolk had never tasted or even seen. The beverages flowed from fountains. The music was loud enough to cover the chatter and low enough to have a conversation. Everyone waited for the Lady now. I waited too. From behind the curtain. Because what if someone saw me. I remained in the dark and now there was no hideous shadow.
Lady Vanessa walked halfway down the stairs in to the arms of cheers and greetings and praise. Everyone looked at her with awe. She looked mesmerizing with her flawless skin clashing against her black evening gown but in tone with her soft brown hair. She looked at everyone, smiling. I don’t think she saw me.
Somehow I couldn’t manage to look at her. It was like looking at a light. A light that gradually blinded my eyes. So I stayed in the dark but this time for myself. I don’t know how many hours went by, to me it was a blur. Like something passing by too swift or perhaps too slow. A strange bliss in which you can not feel your own movements. I remember cutting paper. It was white paper I think. Maybe I made snowflakes. Yes, yes I did. I soaked them in the red around the Lady and made prints on her face. The red had spread gradually from the scissors in her neck. I didn’t know scissors held all that color. It gushed forth at first and now fell in drops, one by one. I made prints on her arms and legs too. I asked her if she liked them but she did not answer, she did not blink. I made the red snow flake prints on myself too. Now we looked the same. Did I look as pretty as her or did she look as pretty as me? It didn’t matter. I lay beside her as we had when I was born. I don’t remember that but the nurse told me. We lay there in the warm red from the scissors.
