For the Love of God

β | two

MY EYELIDS WERE GLUED together and it took the effort of my fingers to pry them open. My vision was a blur of peach and a disgusting mix of grey and yellow. White phosphenes glittered here and there, giving me a mild headache. I clutched my head and tried to steady my face in hopes that it would make a difference to my dancing vision. After what seemed like an eternity of blindness, my pupils adjusted back to normal. I looked around.

I was in a room, with pinkish-coloured walls embossed with gold engravings of twirls and spirals that served grace to the place. On the farther corner was a bed, covered in what seemed like a blanket of woven flowers. The bed post was glittery gold and matched the carpet that spread itself across the marbled floor. To the right, was a huge mirror, which I assumed, was made of the clearest sea glass that could ever be found.

There were golden bottles arranged on the dressing table and it looked like they were cosmetics. There were two long windows, one to the right of the mirror and the other placed parallelly to the side, through which the retiring sun streamed its pinkish glow to the room.

I realized there were no lights in the room at all. There wasn't a purpose for it, because the room was naturally illuminated. Instead of lights, there hung sculpted white doves, their wings stretched out. It seemed like they were coated in a sprinkle of gold dust, for they glinted in the sunlight like radiant pearls.

In the left corner of the room was a huge canvas, propped against a metal stand with used paint brushes and gold palettes. There were marble closets, a door painted in white, which I assumed, led to the washroom. The room was royal, divine and almost magical. Even the smell of it — extravagant rose and vanilla — was something out of the world.

I felt odd standing in such a mystical place, in nothing but my beige coat, a vintage brown knitted sweater and a pair of old jeans that I had worn twice in a row. I felt ordinary, simple and small.

Such a beautiful place would be an undeserved gift to meagre Earth. This room itself was a symbol of glory, strength and power, something purely godly. I didn't find it surprising that I was speechless and frozen to the ground. Where was I? Was this an illusion? Were my eyes playing a mean trick?

The sound of a door opening echoed in the room. Before I could decide between hiding under the bed and running into the washroom, the person noticed my presence.

"Are you one of the neànis that my husband sent me? I haven't seen you before."

Her voice was ultraviolet velvet floating on rippling waters — fluid and entrancing.

I couldn't speak. The women who had walked into the room made my mind spiral into unknown realms of speechlessness. She wore a red dress made of a strange fabric, which wrapped around her breasts in a bold criss-cross and ended with loose off-shoulder sleeves. The net-like fabric fell over the shimmering satin of the lower part of the dress, flowing down like a tipped-down barrel of blood.

Her cheekbones were high and defined, with a gold shine on it. Her eyes were lilac, enhanced by a glittery coat of colour on her eyelids as if they were licked by silver flames. The dark locks that clung to her head was a blend of earthy brown and fiery orange. Her skin was soft — one didn't have to touch to tell it — and it was an even shade of creamy brown, like that of smooth cocoa butter.

She was sinfully beautiful.

"Wise of him to send a mute girl," she mumbled, walking with such an elegant grace that could be labeled as illegal. She sat on the cushioned chair before the mirror and stared at her reflection.

The aura around her was so powerful, sizzling like a dangerous desire. Aphrodite would be dripping with envy if she saw her. "Y-you are so beautiful," I said, out of breath. The words slipped out of me like it was the most natural thing to say. I couldn't stop myself from doing it.