She calls to me in all seasons, among fallen leaves, hot or cold, dark and grey and when the day is bright and my heart is warm. In the darkest nights, she beckons me and I have no choice. I come because it pleases me to see her and yet I grow weary with regret and sorrow. Her bones buried beneath the old architecture chill my own. I am reminded of a cruel joke that was never meant to end this way. I couldn’t have her win. It was my own selfish way but it was only meant to be a joke. I am bound to her now. I can not leave her. She torments me. My conscience torments me. I sense her sadness, her anger. I beg her to stop but she does not. Evil consumes her and I am to oblige her every desire. I post the sign on the front gate, hoping each time will be my last. Hoping she will consume me along with the others and finish my torment, but there is no rest. I am wretched and she makes me pay. Though her mouth remains open, her silence speaks violent tones ending me. It is a living death. I welcome them one by one with their smiles and their awes. I welcome them all looking so innocent and ignorant of what is about to happen once they enter. She only keeps her mouth open and I… I cringe when I hear the screams.
© 2018 Mel Gutiér
Photo Credit: ArtyPlantsMan Day 16 of Black and White Photo Challenge