Her breathing becomes shallow. Despite staying still, blood kept gushing out from her stab wound. Her hand had gone frail from pressing on to stop the bleeding. Care suspected her stubbornness in the end won't help. In her trance-like state, flashes of an insignificant memory from the past resurfaced.
Up on the hilltop, her ancestors built a pristine white mausoleum surrounded by evergreen trees. They called it Paradiso. Who would not? On that site: air was fresh, skies seemed closer as if within the reach of one's hand and the elevation provided a great view below. It serves as a resting sanctuary for those blood relatives who passed on. Their pictures sit next to their graves while their memoirs are compiled on a mahogany bookshelf.
During her family's occasional visits, they skim the pages of their memoirs. Particularly, she loved looking over and over again the one her late Abuela owned. The old woman possessed a regal beauty she always envied. White as snow skin. Thick, long eyelashes. Golden, bright eyes. Natural cherry red lips. Eloquent speech and sophisticated movements. Slender body with every curve in the right places.
How Care longed for the time she surpassed her beauty!
However, the elderly died so was her chance. The very reason why a part of her heart was torn beyond repair. The melancholy of a broken dream haunts her the most whenever she is inside the mausoleum.
"Adelaide Aragon, a loving wife and mother." A skinny girl clad in blue sweaters spoke, catching her attention.
She stared at her at loss for quite a while for her hair as red as maple leaves hid the features of her face. No matter how hard she thinks, she only recognizes that the child was a newfound playmate, not a friend. Strangely, she remembered being drawn to her peculiarity but neither remembered her face nor name. In short, she was like a blurred image.
Care walked past the pair of mahogany chairs separated by a table where a vase of fresh dandelions lie. Then, she lit some candles and placed them on the candelabrum before kneeling beside the girl in front of a certain marble tombstone.
"Here she is, my fav Abuela, Adelaide Aragon.! The one I've been telling you." She explained.
"How about this?" the girl probed.
Her eyes shadowed curiosity. Care followed the direction of her gaze. She found carved words in tiny sizes hardly noticeable thus she bent towards the writing.
In unison, they read it out loud:
Thee shall seek and turn to my light
And I shall inflame thy withered hope
Let me hear the weep of desperation
Then I shall come to you, Gallus.
Winds blew harsher. The numbing cold against their skin caused them to shiver.
"What happened here? Did someone perhaps vandalize your property?" she asked.
Her eyes grew big out of curiosity.
"Silly! Didn't you hear elders call him King of Trades because he would grant any person;s wish in exchange of something from that person?" Care whispered as if somebody could eavesdrop.
Her playmate's face lit up because of a sudden realization.
"I didn't! The lady caretaker nor the houseboy mentions his name because they warned that he is a soul eater! They say he disguises as a deity but the truth is, he's a spawn of a devil!" she murmured back.
"But Daddy always says he is his fairy godfather!" Care opposed.
The immediate, sharp twinge on her chest snapped her from daze. As to why her mind revisited a random memory at such a crucial moment puzzles her, too. Ridiculous, really! She must have a grandiose replay of snippets of important events of her whole life, instead.
I'm definitely losing my mind, she inwardly reckoned. Although, in her innermost private thoughts, she considered this the best option to the predicament she cannot escape. With her vision dimming each second, curtains are about to close for her.
When situations become dire and hopeless, most people cling onto false hopes. Of course, Care is no exception. She'd put her faith in a fabricated legend meant to scare children rather than nothing.
"He...lp m-me...Ga, gal… lus." she begged, vomiting blood in the process.