Flos et Daemonis

As soon as she left the building of the airport the sky began to pour down mercilessly and as she crossed some busy street, she regretted for not keeping the stupid green umbrella. But it was lost to her. Still that was only the past and the past shouldn’t occupy ones’ thoughts too much, failing to forgive and forget is a road that leads to madness.

Madness. That was the keyword that rang through her head as nervous drivers shouted at her, for she hadn’t look around when she started crossing and, of course, several drivers had to manoeuvre round her not to hit her. She was lucky, she was always luck, she thought. She smiled and remembered about the four-leafed clover in her pocket. She was lucky before it, but now she needed all the help she could get.

Still her mind faded away once more to several years earlier, when she first came to this place on a day very much like that one, but then she had her green umbrella. All those years ago, she stood there, with a fascination in her eyes and great hope for spending great time, it was so and again it brought a smile on her face, a very grim and dark, but a smile nonetheless. She remembered how she got herself lost then that brightened her smile a little.

Her thoughts drifted to the present once more, for she had reached her destination. It only took a small walk and a cab ride and another small walk. Of course when she was in the taxi it stopped raining only to resume the second she stepped out and exposed her head to the open sky, it was like she was a magnet for the rain. Probably so, but that is the matter for another story.

She stood in front of an old house, from the XVIII century, or at least it looked like that. Inside it seemed dark and empty, covering its secrets from her, but she knew what to expect. Even so, when her eyes adjusted and she began to clearly see, it still shocked her. All the walls were covered in faded wallpaper of purple flowers, over them with bright and red paint there were drawings of terrible acts, words written in hate, sentences in curse and texts in evil. Pictures of green hamsters fighting a demon covered other walls. All over the place, in thick black letters, in alphabet known to few, in a language known to fewer one word reminded her why she returned. It read “HETAR”, which she knew that meant “remember”. The whole phrase was “AMENFEN RET HETAR”, which means “We’ll always remember.”, she will, how could she forget.

There it was in the center of one of the bigger rooms. Memories came rushing and she felt overwhelmed by them, reliving it all…

It was so real. There she stood, looking over someone. That someone seemed pretty much dead. There was a bloody object sticking from his chest and blood had spilled like the jam from a dropped jar all round. Her hands were at the handle of what looked like an umbrella that once had been green. Suddenly events started to unfold… in reverse. Gasps flew right into the mouth of the fallen. He started moving, screams from both filled the room. He pulled the umbrella from his chest. What was it he said before he did it; it was what he had always been telling her.

“I’d sacrifice our friendship to save you…”

So he did, thought not in the way she’d expected. He used to say that particular phrase a lot, to lots of people and she thought it was a meaningless expression of affection. Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! He was wrong too, of course, his sacrifice did nothing, and the dead have that unique ability to be… dead. It is the living who help us, it is them that we trust, and it is they who save us.

She forced herself back to reality. There, above the skeleton floated a shiny, silver ghost…

“You are back” he said.

She nodded and grinned.

“I always keep my promises… I always remembered.”

“What promise… There was no promise, you should leave, you should live, you shouldn’t linger here!”

“I never said goodbye…”

“Neither did I…”

“Goodbye” – their voices intertwined…

She woke up, her phone hitting her foot. It was time to go there for…

…the first time.