An irresistable force was pulling me back, back into the room , from which the woman had fled just moments before. I glanced back at the painting. The woman had been replaced with someone new. I couldn’t quite make out the face but the more I stared the clearer it became. The face was mine. What did this mean? Some kind of reference to ‘The portrait of Dorian Grey’? But I had done nothing wrong. Had I unwittingly destroyed a life by merely entering a room? I tried to open the door and stood there just long enough to catch a glimpse of the graceful figure at the end of the stairwell flowing into the courtyard below.The door closed suddenly and I fell back onto the bed.
Hard as I tried I could not move. Strange that after very little effort, I no longer felt inclined to do so. I felt my eyelids growing heavy and drifted off into the land of my subconcious. My mind travelled back to the night I first met Gurel. A fancy dress party at The Hydro Majestic in The Blue Mountains about two hours out of Sydney Australia. We had first laid eyes on each other whilst dining on the grand terrace overlooking the valley . I was on holiday with my family and he was dining with some very distinguished looking gentlemen. I later found out that he was a university student who had just won an academic prize for excellence in his field of study. He had come with a group of his peers.His dream was to be a great architect not only of buildings but of change in his own country. He had dark hair, a dazzling smile and sparkling blue eyes which were very unusual for a Turk. I was smitten.We danced on that terrace in the moonlight and meandered down into the valley with the stars paving the way.
By morning that nothing anyone could say or do would ever make us part.Together we would change the world somehow. Of that I was sure.
© Renee Dallow ( Hybiscus Bloom ) 8/8/2013
Bourgeoise Bloomers 