The Moon WinxA Story by Sami KhalilA gothic wedding...The famed hotel...Based on an actual location which inspired me...The Moon Winx by Sami Khalil Muted, she stared at the sun... Late rising with a piercing alarm, a demurred wife, who was lost in the grace of sleep, had found her Bohemian spirit to be shackled by death immemorial. Beneath the orb,
green pasturages spanned the blushed land, while nomadic clouds hovering, scorned
wayward. In the living spaces between her heavy
breaths, strangeness spilled her beans on a suitcase of reality. While
happiness lost, she struck a deal with wishful thinking. Eyes could not rest on
any harmony even when this minacious act caused horror and strife, perhaps with
a background of sinister intentions. She even stalked the right words to no
avail, knowing our human stories are unfinished till the end, even so with
hand-written fears. So, she grasped unto the unknown, fearing somehow its dark
shadows. Between the sight of her husband’s badly burnt
body, ostensibly bursting instantly into upward flames upon finding him on the
kitchen floor, with only his slippered feet intact, while objects of the
surrounding untouched, generating their fair share of controversy and mystery,
with or without signs of foul play, and the looks of forensic experts, baffled
and stone-faced, her dreams eroded, falling apart into dark lures. Everything became ill-fitting, unravelling the
raised eyebrows, disassembling any relief in sight. Some can measure natural
time and its effects, good or bad, but not its escape into the wild unknown,
full fledging into dusty shadows, were some thoughts which ran through her
mind. With a blurred vision, she remembered the
honeymoon at the famed “Moon Winx” hotel, the owls that flew off their palms
after the ravishing gothic wedding that took place at a haunted castle, October
the 31st. That season was of harvesting, and the twain
being non-conformist, Halloween could not get here fast enough for the
transition of their lifetime into the newness of the macabre, away from the
vulnerability of the normal. Her wedding dress was hauntingly romantic; leather
haultered, long flowing in black and purple colors. She remembered vividly the
moment her late husband pulled out the ring from a carved pumpkin with the
words “Love” (there were many carved in different messages), planting
passionate kisses that smudged her black lipstick, the vows exchanged donning
prison shackles around the wrists, the cradle and the wooden coffin on each
side of the altar, the cake topped by a raven’s bust, the two best men dressed
in Satan and Dracula outfits, the spooky looking glassy dolls busted on the
floor for good luck… Half conscious
from her fall, passing out, her trusted eyes granted her a slight stare outside
the hospital windows. And with a stubborn heart, she could not acquiesce but to
velvet sadness in her pains. After her release from the hospital, she
adopted the habit of wearing her wedding dress at midnight, donning the
deceased husband’s wolf suit over a skeleton, and with voiceless thoughts, she
would mutter the words: “I do.” No need for witnesses in the dark thereof. The
scent of musk was powerful enough to wake up the neighbors in sudden sickness.
She reclaimed the corporeal entity in her vision. The full moon became that
silent witness! © 2018 Sami KhalilReviews
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Added on August 8, 2018Last Updated on August 10, 2018 Author
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