Few-Line Stories. Part I

In My Dreams

In my dreams I often see a castle. Precisely, I see the only tower left untouched by the elements of nature and the time.

Surrounded by the sheer cliffs, it’s located in a picturesque gorge. The gorge itself is half a meter flooded with water. It doesn’t rain in my dreams, but the weather is gloomy, and the clouds are dark and heavy.

I want to go down into this gorge, to sneak into the tower.  But if I ever succeed, I won’t be able to come back.

Therefore, I stand on the cliff, staring at the rickety walls of the tower. Seems like there used to be a school. Or rather, a boarding house. Boys in dark-blue uniform used to run along the wide hallways decorated with Roman statues of gods and white busts of Greek philosophers.

A gentle breeze gets tangled in my hair and I lose the memories I’ve never had. It’s just me on the cliff again.

Sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of the silhouette rimmed by the cracked window frame. But perhaps it’s the wind playing with torn curtains.

And then I wake up. And I swear, the first thing I hear

is the echo of a child’s laughter.

Autumnal Melancholy

I’m used to my loneliness. People – they’re used to the fact that I’m lonely. Everyone thinks I’m weird. Am I? Is this true?

And I’m just like anybody else!

But I love watching trees die. I love realizing that I am the reason of their deaths.

I love to breathe in unison with the wind which makes my cheeks red and burning, and my eyes watering.

I love the feeling, you know what I’m talking about, when thoughts seem to fly away like a flock of starlings to the south, and there’s nothing left ‒ only fog in my head.

I didn’t want you to get sick. But that’s inevitable. I am inevitable.

There is some October left in the mug. Have a drink if you want.

I have to go now. Please, don’t forget me. And forgive me for everything.

Yours sincerely,

Autumn.