Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde

“Under the strain of this continually impending doom and by the sleeplessness to which I now condemned myself, ay, even beyond what I had thought possible to man, I became, in my own person, a creature eaten up and emptied by fever, languidly weak both in body and mind, and solely occupied by one thought: the horror of my other self.”

The boy shuts the book. His fingers caresses the leather-binding; trailing his index up the spine as he ponders. He thinks about her; the woman from his dreams, the trespasser in his mind. She has been there for as long as he can remember. Though she frightens him, makes him feel powerless and riddled with guilt for the things she makes him do, he cares for her; the boy knows the woman has been protecting him like a lioness, from them. He gets up from his chair, walks across the old creaking floorboards
and places the book on top of the dusty dim-lit fireplace. From the corner of his eye he sees the woman's murky silhouette gathering daffodils from their garden. Daffodils blossoming in winter is considered unusual, but what's even more peculiar is that all of the flowers in their garden seem to be hexed, they never wither; instead they lure outsiders with their beauty and remarkable scent. The boy rubs his eyes and turns to look directly at the woman. But what he sees is himself, standing from a distance, close by the fireplace inside of the villa. He watches himself leave the spot upon where he stood. And he begins to notice his surroundings; the warm heat from the burning chunks of wood is replaced by a chilly breeze, along with familiar floral scent. He feels his hand gripping something cool and damp. Looking down he sees a dusin of daffodils resting in a palm that doesn't resemble his own. The hand is certainly larger than his. Fingers bony, slender and broken in each joint. Realization hits him, and he drops the flowers before blacking out.

· · · — — — · · ·

The tide had crept upon him,
All too soon, he felt.
Delicate sand had buried his puny ankles,
Bound him to the sea.
Frantically he turned his gaze; searching.
His eyes glistened with a desperate plea, for the sight of hers
And a distant silhouette,
Barely visible to the naked eye,
Disguising the woman's features,
Showed only a blurry layer of her fair polished skin,
Though she certainly approached his pathetic state,
To his regret, he knew now how, their eyes were never to be met.
Devastated with sorrow, he quietly offered his farewell

"Yes or no?"

10, 9, 8, 7...

"Yes or no?"

6, 5...

"Yes or no!?"

4, 3, 2...

"Decide!"

1...

Nepenthe

A graceful death, is the only thing she is able to offer these days; an exertion for completion.
She fools him with her devious ways, seduces and binds him to a world of clarity. She recognises his weakness and it makes no difference whither he will attempt to flee, for she will - with certainty - follow.
A choice has to be made; 


Will she let him have her, or more importantly, is he strong enough to fight for her?
Would it end up becoming the sacrifice confirming his greatest fear? 


He has not forgotten what happened the last time she slithered underneath his skin, it left him shattered and even more frail than before.


Could he, without losing himself in the process? 


He relies his fate upon the one woman, whose sincere tenderness sustains him;   


Locks remarkably coal, though carrying life's strands of age
Eyes that radiate so sublime, they sear a daunting, torrid path into the soul's core, making all else fade to grey
And a character even more significant than his own existence.


His answer is clear. There is no alternative. 


"Behave.."

Daffodil

The little mirror in his hand - strong and firm - it challenges him:

"Look at me. Look only for a second, only for a moment, a single blink will do, your lonesome shall be no more and all sorrows will be through."

He knows far too well what the mirror spoke was untrue and when his gaze finds the golden frame - it's beauty striking and it's design exceptional - the promises are the still same, yet he can not dare to see his own faded reflection in the comfortably kept glass. The clenching feeling in his abdomen causes a split moment of reconsideration, before he finally releases the golden mirror from his grasp, watching as it falls between the slick long sun-coloured flowers. It will return.