Do penance or perish
There was a reoccurring dream Maca had. Every night she dreamed of that fateful night months ago. The night where they had finally parted their ways.
One finding its path towards the future and one stayed put. Frozen in time.
In her dream she found herself in a wasteland. She had to stride through it until she reached a sacred place where there was no sound at all.
For the first time in a long time she was surrounded by complete silence. Amid a desert.
Far away from anything she stood in a steady stance. Head looking up towards the gloomy sky. Taking in the surreal moment she had found herself in. Her eyes shut. In an attempt to distancing herself from reality.
Was this really a dream?
It was but a mere feeling she had. That made her question it. A feeling, proved to be justified when the sky broke open.
Without mercy it started pouring, it’s acidic tears onto her. The sky it seem, had reason to mourn too.
Not so long ago, there had been a time where the blond had loved to play with fire. It was an dangerously addicting game. And she had never been burned.But acid was no fire. And being touched by it. By something so mundane, so agressively without consent. Was even worse than the agony she had suffered throughout her entire life.
Hurt, she thought, it was an all known fact, could not be experienced in a dream. And it dawned on her then, as the rain was burning her skin. That this was no dream at all.
With that revelation black streams of poisonous tears spilled over. Befouling her whole being. If this was not a dream, she was right on the path of truths.
Her feet, walking on their own, had brought the woman back to a place she had tried to push aside. A days time had past since she’d last been there. Certainly, not more than that. But what really was time? It held no importance just then. The point was something different. The womans return. Maca had returned with intent to transform. And that was precisely what she did.
Her skin, once covered with dried blood, was washed clean. Right there she repent.
Relieving herself of a heavy burden she‘d been carrying around for too long. Lastly, of those torments of Tantalus. No matter what she would do Zulema would remain out of reach.
Yet, by shedding her old skin, that was drenched with blood, weakened by her sorrow, a new one was revealed. One restored by hope. Courage even.
The burning rain had caused crimson drops to creep down her arms, over her hands, smoothly finding its way down to her calves. Soaking through the white linen now imprisoning her silhouette. Then, at the end of her calves the purpure drops merged into angry streams that formed a blazing red puddle to her feet.
Not daring to open her eyes just yet, she remained in that position. Afraid she would see the damage. An irriversable tragedy.
And although aware of the inevitable. That there must soon, come a time where she eventually had to look. She didn‘t.
Instead of looking down though she lost her gaze in the distance. Not too far, nor too close. There, her eyes caught something else.
A little scorpion made it’s way towards the dead body that lay not far from her feet. Her torments of tantalus. There in the form of a scorpion yet out of reach. The body a reminder of that. Death, she knew, is definite.
There was a small clattering sound emerging from the scorpion’s legs. She found it had a melody to it. Listening closely, focusing hard on it, she could make out that familiar lullaby she had heard so often, back in prison.
The scorpion paused. The melody fell silent. And it seemed like the scorpion raised its head a tat to catch the woman’s eyes. She wasn‘t sure if it was a play of her mind or real, but he tilted his head ever so slightly in an acknowledging nod. Then it‘s legs continued walking summoning the melody anew.
The woman too, turned her attention back to mind her own business. Finally, allowing her eyes to drift down to the skirt of her dress. Suddenly she was finding her own voice singing the familiar song.
„Yallah yallah Habibi,
yallah yallah tenam.“
Calming her down. It felt like a warm motherly hug. Spending her some sort of security.
Macas eyes couldn’t let go. She froze, her singing continuesly picking up speed. Eventually dropping to her knees. Still holding up the hem of her dress.
Confronted, with the smudged, by now pink, residue of blood.
The melody kept on increasing, speeding up even more.
It was the blood of a good fellow. Pink and angry.
She screamed the lyrics of the song.
“YALLAH YALLAH HABIBI YALLAH YALLA TENAM“
And all of a sudden the melody hushed. It ceased to exist. So did she.
Suddenly the world was quite again. Too quite. Her knees rose from the soil and so the rest of her body followed. Her gaze stuck on her blood smeared hands. But only for a second.
Quickly she got a hold of herself. There was no time for hard feelings, that would blur her capacity to act. Determined to implement her intentions she turned around and started to run.
Hellbent, to seek revenge on those who were responsible for all the suffering they had caused. She made herself a promise. She’d hunt them down, one by one, until their end of days.
And as she was running, morning arose, leaving behind the heavy air, she ran into a new day. Fraught with a new hope.