Sunset
As I felt the last breath seep out of my body, the devil smiled at me. It wasn't a sinister smile, no, it was one filled with expectancy and desire.
A desire to have my last breath.
Leaning towards my weakened frame, his bottomless eyes stared into me.
Your wish has been granted. I'll see you soon.
Then, he vanished into thin air and my world went pitch black.
-
Life was a dream, filled with shards of bitterness and fragments of hope. The memories I had were akin to an old, heavy cinema reel burnt at the edges. Some things I remembered with distinct clarity and often, they would always overwhelm me with the passionate sensations they aroused. However, it was mostly the blurred, abstract thoughts appearing in my mind that puzzled me day and night.
I lived life barely breathing, and in the end, it was my last breath which sustained my final wish.
The last breath was like a pair of scissors which snaps the entwinement of the body and soul, the catalyst which would bring about a cool, eternal sheet of darkness. It was also the purest and most condensed emotion a human could possess: the cool, sheet of fire which represented our passions in their rawest form.
Fear. Anger. Peace. Pain.
Most fortunately, it was also considered the devil's favourite delicacy, and as such, I was granted my final wish to weave an illusion: a grand illusion of love for my beloved.
As I have always suffered from a profound disconnection from reality, this rendered me incapable of experiencing sensations which were supposed to shake the core of my inner being. Not only did it render me stoic and unable to express my emotions well, it also caused my beloved to be denied the multitude of opportunities which young lovers were supposed to experience.
Thus, I decided: as my beloved lay on the bed slowly losing herself to death, I shall provide her one final gift with my tiny, infinitesimal life.
I shall provide her the grand illusion of love.
-
The cool sheet of darkness was slowly lifted as a thin veil of light pierced through. Colourful dots spotted my vision as I was overcome with acute disorientation, causing my body to reflexively lurch forward, only to realize that I was lying on the ground. Blades of grass tickled my nose as the cooling scent of dry earth drifted into my nose. In that instant, a soft, sweet voice pierced through my mind with a startling ring.
Are you alright?
Soft and familiar, it was clearly the voice of my beloved. Immediately, my eyes flared open as I took in the full view of her beauty: her sharp brown eyes, slightly pointed nose and upturned lips. The combined beauty of Aphrodite, Io and Calliope was still insufficient compared to her.
She was irreplaceable.
As I slowly took in my surroundings, I realized that we were in Central Park in New York. New York! The slow realisation of my current reality managed to dull the rough edges of shock, but it still managed to needle its way into my heart. New York was the place where our honeymoon failed to materialise due to various unfortunate coincidences, and like a stain which could not be washed, it remained one of our biggest regrets.
Now, I was given a providential chance to fix it.
Clutching her hand, I hastily weaved through the throngs of passers-by, trying to make our way towards Times Square. After all, considering that I'd only been granted a measly twelve hours, the least we could do was to pick up pace.
Startled by my abruptness, she could only let out a few exclamations of surprise, unable to understand the stakes. In my mind, coins in a wishing well were piled sky high, and like a desperate man whose ardent desire was to only please and fulfill, I was slowly trying to check off an infinitely long to-do list, until there were no more coins left in the well.
"Wait! Where are we going?"
"Somewhere to realise your dreams."
-
It was a short walk to Times Square, and as we inched closer to the famous bustling district, a distinct sensation of excitement and restlessness permeated our beings. It was an intoxicating feeling, and as I walked forward step by step, feeling the soft palm of my beloved, my cheeks were flushed a rosy red as beads of sweat rolled down my forehead.
What an odd experience it was, weaving through the tiny pockets of people while being bumped by other passers-by occasionally. I could smell the metallic tang of sweat intermingled with the cool crisp air, and coupled with the giant billboards blasting their fiery colours, it almost toppled me into a state of frenzy and sensory overload.
Almost. But as the eager, starry-eyed New York romantics would say, isn’t that the beauty of New York?
As we made our way towards the Theatre District, the soft, velvety green and black of the Wicked Witch of the West graced our eyes while the ivory mask of the Phantom beckoned us towards an abyss of desolation. Gigantic, vibrant posters splashed out right in front of our eyes, creating an exquisite feast for the senses. In my mad hurry, I went forward to the ticket counter to purchase two tickets for all of the shows which were available and could be watched in swift succession, and in no time, we were ready to begin our Broadway marathon.
My beloved has always enjoyed living vicariously through theatre, and in those final hours before sunset, we mourned over the Phantom's loss of Christine as he was forced to live a life of isolation, felt the joys and thrills of the Jersey Boys as they belted out chorus after chorus of feel-good songs, and basked in the seductiveness of the murderesses in Chicago as they sang the Cell Block Tango.
To me, theatre has always had an exquisite feel to it. When the invisible wall between the audience and performer was erected, it created a seemingly artificial and perfect world. It was a safe haven from the gross horrors of reality, a wonderland where troubles could be easily solved with the snap of a finger; where drama thrived and love conquered. It was a soothing balm to the blisters caused by real life, and just like the performer whose entire life was solely invested in his art, we, as the audience, were transported to an entrancing dream where time ceased to exist.
When I looked at my beloved’s vibrant, smiling face, I could only think of the radiant light which seemed to reflect off her like a lustrous moon. It seemed ethereal, otherworldly almost. The thought of that didn’t really surprise me as much, considering that after all, we were probably two lone souls drifting in a parallel universe where the other humans were probably just replicas of real beings. Everything was a form of a escapism: time, love and life. Here I was, a sick, love-torn romantic trying to compensate my beloved’s ever-inching death with my own death so as to grant her a prolonged state of happiness while the clock of doom was ever moving its ghastly phantasmic hands of death, forcing us onto the precipice of death.
It was not a sudden realisation when I realised this:
We were all Hansels and Gretels trapped in the witch's house.
-
As the final act ended and the velvety red curtains slowly rolled down the stage, we made our way out of the theatre. Yellow taxi cabs littered the streets as the sound of honking and chatter drifted into our ears. Titanic skyscrapers surrounded us, glistening and reflecting a pale, white sheen. In the middle of it all, was a golden-red orb slowly sinking its way into the pit of earth. It emanated warmth, and as I saw its reddish glow reflected on my beloved's face, a mixture of warmth and sorrow overwhelmed me.
Was this it? I supposed it was; after all, I could not expect a miracle. Tears slowly leaked out my eyes, rolling down my cheeks and forming a warm puddle on my chest. I looked at my beloved, feeling my heart twist painfully. She looked towards my tear-stricken face and let out a startled gasp.
Why are you crying?
Sniffle. Sob. Gulp.
I don't know. It's just so beautiful today. You're so beautiful today.
Pause.
I love you a lot. Please, never forget that.
A brief silence ensued as she looked me in the eye, scrutinising my every feature, as if to burn them deep into memory. She gulped.
I love you too.
A blanket of warmth numbed my fears and anxiety as the last ray of the sun darted towards the streets before vanishing entirely into the earth. The time had arrived.
As I waited, heart pumping and tears flowing, I noticed bit by bit that my beloved was slowly aging. Her youthful face was slowly being embedded with wrinkles while her silky black hair slowly transformed into pale grey. The slight hunch of her shoulders and the sagging of skin made the aging process even more palpable. She was slowly disappearing bit by bit and I could do nothing but watch. Finally, her transformation was complete and she stared at me, eyes wide with shock.
"What--what happened?"
"Shh. I just weaved you a dream, that's all."
She looked at me understandingly as her aged form started to vanish, bit by bit. She was slowly disappearing into thin air, and no longer did the wave of desperation threaten to tear me apart. I had done my part. I had woven a grand illusion. As she looked at her body, confused, all she could do was to mouth two final words before disappearing:
Thank you.
Peace resonated in me as darkness slowly started to take hold of me. The devil had arrived, and clearly my time was up. As I slowly lost my vision, I realized that in this dream, I had lived more than I ever did in my life.
Indeed, it was truly worth dying for.