Crimson Goddess
By: Fox
A nail from a beloved tenderness delicately slithered, descending down her flesh.
Fabricating an incision where sadness speculates and surges down skin as a stream in the
wilderness. These counterfeit tears, a new blush to her face. As the delicate draws back,
her life distills from it’s thorns. These slits mark her once mortality, remaining on her face
for eternity, seized by the Immortality Rose.
An abode in the sky for the goddess, a sanctuary, pure, away from the soils of
humans. Alone with the others perpetually. Her features had changed drastically. Her
once verdant, earth eyes, bloodied in reminder of life she will never have pulse through her
heart. Her skin, once golden by the sun, extinguished by the night as she glows with the
paleness of the moon. Her hair, once a shadow that hung freely in the world of sands,
scribes, temples and artisans, now crimson, matching her eyes and hair.
A man, who unearths secrets of past. Excavating to find truth. He encountered a
new Dynasty in the heavens, a temple in the sky. Being of blind faith he assumed this
golden wonder to be his heaven. Yet, intrigued by the splendor of the crimson girl he
remembers their epic tale.
The mortal locks eyes with the crimson maiden, she too, is curious of this fluid
filled creature. She spoke, a voice like acid fire, rapid; burning your ears until you want,
need, to hear more. Smooth like silk, as though air does nor interrupt her voice.
“What are you?†The mortal stands frozen, captured by her elegance and
delicateness. Astonished at her ability to speak his own language.
“I am but mere flesh and blood, a mortal, as you once were.†He spoke, redefining
his posture. His voice was coarse and turbulent, like no man’s there. Cut like a jagged
edge instead of a dagger.
She progressed toward this bizarre creature, almost floating. “As I once was?
How can you know this?†She sang at him with her echoing voice. He observed her
movement, like tranquil water, he thought her to be lighter than air, as her voice. He
braved himself and took strides toward her, close enough to touch her snow white skin.
“You come from my world, I’ve read your stories in scrolls from ancients.†His
steps were strong, firm; undaunted. She marveled at such a solidness and whispered in his
ear.
“Take me to your world.†Her scarlet eyes sparked with excitement as she drew
back and smiled.
Out of the sanctuary they stood on a platform just outside the temple which had
held her prisoner. Her liquid fire voice sang again. “Ancients, you said before, how long
have I been kept?†She inquired. The mortal thought, remembering, finally speaking,
“Ten thousand years.â€
The crimson goddess froze, her thoughts ceased as she recoiled ten thousand years
in her mind. From when the shrill prick of the thorn touched her body, times flashed by
her in a blur, gazing downward over her body, the intensity of the height enveloped her,
clutching at anything she could to keep from falling, her worst fear. Clouds, cities, earth
and water came rapidly closer as she slammed into her body. She stared ahead now, into
the eyes of her savior, as her knees buckled from shock and disbelief.
Regaining her balance she embarked onto the contraption that would take her to
the new world. “How could you know?†She defiantly asked her guide.
“Well, I know how you got these.†He reached out and gently brushed her pale
face and the forever marked scarlet tear lines. She shrieked as no woman on this earth has
ever screamed. A painful song as her flesh burned from his touch. She cried out still and
clawed at her face with her hands.
“You’re too pure to touch.†Her escort whispered.
“Your earth has become vile and clouded as has the minds of most that clutter it.†She growled through clenched teeth.
“Ah, so you do know of it†He stated raising his eyebrows questioningly.
“I’ve read just as many scrolls as you.†She huffed at him and crossed her arms.
She found a flourishing land, thick with foliage when they arrived, large trees, and
endless field of grass that whispered in the wind. Nothing like the forsaken wasteland she
had left. As soon as her bare feet grazed the soil of this polluted province, flowers began
to sprout, following the crimson goddess wherever she walked; vines pulled and clawed
their way toward her, more and more flowers; yet, neither of them noticed.
He told her all he knew of her past, of what the scrolls had said. She told him
secrets of earth only those in the temple knew. He explained new technologies, and she
told him theirs. For weeks this went on. He did not see the changes in her health, as she
breathed in toxins the earth holds. He did not notice her collapsing to her knees at the
cruelty when he stepped on, and brutally murdered an innocent flower. She did not notice
the statues turning to watch her every graceful move, or the flowers, that crept behind her,
purifying the air.
She knew she could not stay, and she could not turn back. She did not know if she was
alive or dead. She looked over her sleeping mortal and spoke softly to him, her thanks.
She ran. Her dress whispering in the wind as the grass had done, dancing as she flew
through the field beneath the beauty of the stars; which lived ten times as long as she had.
Her skin glowing a dull sapphire, as luminescent as the moon. Her fiery eyes piercing the
night like lightning in the storm.
The mortal, awake, galloping like a stallion in a fairy-tale, strong limbs pounding
into the soil, erupting in a fury to get to her; airborne, screaming for the everlasting.
She stood stagnant, ruby eyes locked within the stars that reminded her so much of
herself; infinite, but able to be burnt out. She let out a breath and saw it floating towards
the sky, twisting in the air. “The stars live on in light,†she thought. She began to cry
silently, those crimson tears followed the path already marked by the scars from the thorns
of the immortality rose.
The mortal halted, he saw her velvet red tears stream down her face, an elegant
talent only reserved for those of divinity. Those who supposedly are not able to cry or
have emotions. Their tears so precious, exquisite with purity. The stars cried as well, as
his cupped hand filled with blood tears that fell from a clear sky.
She began to pirouette, the crimson flowers crawling towards her as the tears from
the sky were joined by rose petals. Most likely from those in the sanctuary saying
goodbye. She motioned for her savior to come, he ran to her. She stopped twirling, but
the flowers enveloped them ten feet in the air, continuing to twist. He reached to wipe a
blood tear from her cheek, but drew back his hand in fright of her taintlessness. She
smiled, and they spoke with motions, no words as she elevated her head and kissed her
mortal.
They broke apart, her lips burning from his touch as the flowers enfolded her,
suffocating. Her savior cried out and tried to untangle her, the flowers were swallowing
his goddess. Her eyes were the last to endure as she closed them tightly, the remainding
tears splashed onto the petals. as a farewell and thanks to her mortal man, her savior.
The flowers relinquished, as did the petals and sky tears. An utter stillness
concealed the entire earth, it seemed, for the mortal man could only hear his rapid breath
and the beating of his heart. He clawed at the flowers and thorns covering her. Scraping
himself, bleeding on the blossoms from their thorns.
He withdrew and cried out in dismay when he came to her. Her ashen skin still
had a gentle radiance under the moonlight, her eyes still crimson, as were her scars and
tears, but frozen in a marble structure was her form; preserved as the stars. He cried
then, touching her singed lips, his still tingling from the kiss of his lost Crimson Goddess.