A Prologue
She heard the wind, felt its chilling arms embracing her. She didn’t realize it will recognize her presence and welcome her again.
It has been two dawdling decades since she set her feet once again unto this asphalted road.
The door towered above her. Hesitating, she opened it with the key, which she got from the parcel, and pushed it. Thin strips of sunlight peaking from the outside lit the small apartment. It was a tiny room but once, it fits two persons.
It was tidy but an empty, wooden bed slouched on the right side is the lone furniture inside the room. She can’t help to wonder, did he really lived with only this stuff?
To distract herself from feeling remorseful, she shifted her eyes to survey the room.
Atop the bed, she immediately saw the bundle of papers that were mentioned in the letter from the parcel. It was bound with a violet lace ribbon and a torn paper was attached to the tie.
Her name was written crookedly there. Araceli.
Hands shaking, she loosens the tie. She instantly recognized the yellowed letters.
He wrote each of these letters. For her.
But, she left those same letters when she left him in this room many years ago. Unknowing, she raised her hand and brushed aside a tear that’s struggling to come out from her eyes. Why did he keep these? She asked herself.
And then, she saw the black diary. Her diary.
The very one, which he would sneak out from her drawer and chronicled his own brief endearments for her.
She reached for the book and held it near her chest. She did not bring it with her. To remind her not about the things written inside it. So, are you really ready, Araceli?
Slowly she opened the yellowed pages.
Until the entry on that date. February 14.
Her chest feels heavy and tightening with anticipation.
She read her own words like a toddler, almost scolding herself how can she ever write in such anger and distress. And cruel and merciless.
That was her last entry on the diary.
On the next page, she found one single word written repeatedly all over the whole page. Written in bold letters. WHY?
He wrote every word.
She felt a tear dropped and glided down her cheeks.
She realized he had written on every succeeding page of her diary. She fumbled on every page, hoping to read what she wanted to see but there is none. The words denote bewilderment, fear, anger, and loneliness.
Each page is a knife that’s being hurled at her right at this moment.
You deserve this, Araceli, don’t you?
© 2017 M.C. Padilla
A fiction written in response to Daily Prompt: Atmospheric
- Intended to evoke a particular emotional tone
- Creating a distinctive mood, typically of nostalgia and mournful.
Perle en Stylos 