Nescio (4)

NESCIO (4)

Many years passed by; all in all, happily.

The brother, he married - quite successfully. He worked in the City and adopted a cat. He ran a good car and bought a nice flat. 

He was a gentle man, no question of that. No streak of violence except - perhaps - his hideous silence that chilled to the bone. He was happiest when he was left on his own. 

The daughter left home as soon as she could. Afraid of the prospect of womanhood, she developed a strategy. Call it a ploy. She starved her body and looked like a boy. She kept her black hair cut short. 

The daughter, however, desired to roam - the same boredom-gene that had made her leave home. Seduced by a longing for wanderlust. For years, she roamed forests and deserts of dust.

(The grass will be greener on the other side, she muttered as she walked.)

She climbed backwards up mountains. She swam against the tide. She hitch-hiked the world always riding beside lonely old men, who were weary and tired. 

She was happy to sit there and chatter. She'd learned young how to cajole and flatter.

In the meantime, the earth went on spinning on its axis and the priestess - for the record -  took to growing amaryllis. As each scarlet trumpet withered and died, she bit off the bloom and sentimentally sighed. In moments of clarity, sobered by sanity, she conquered her pride and her terrible vanity. 

She thought of the children, the sister and brother - the sister and brother so close to each other - who had risked an adventure and ventured to see her.

Despite her best intentions, they had made her feel maternal. Was her prophesy right; were they really damned eternal?

She liked herself better when she hoped this was not the case.