Befrēoġan

Moumita Dutta posted under Flash Fiction Quintale-17 on 2020-03-12



“Free me; please free me. Release me, from the burden of my guilt and regrets. Let my soul fly. Be my savior, I plead to thee. Merci, Señor Sariel, Merci.”

Sariel stood still watching in silence, as I kneeled pleading. It was my moment to seek salvation. To free the self of the serpent’s skin that clasped the body and infected the soul. To strip off the mask, and espouse the true self.   It was the autumn of ’99. The madness to acquire all the desired sprouted, as I stepped into the frenzied world, shedding the cocoon of adolescence. Glitters hypnotized the mind and drew me into a zone, where pride, greed and ego dwelled. I was embraced and welcomed to a fort so magnificent and gigantic, that with time, I became hungry for the lucrative perks. Luck barged in to add colours, and apathy followed like a loyal shadow. I crafted the best-suited mask to camouflage the giggling demons. My eyelids bore the burden of lashes, heavily draped with paints of all sorts. The masked self spoke words profound and played each game diplomatically. It hid the Frankenstein within and remained ambiguous. Faked smiles and rampaged.  Success screamed with joy. I was at the apex, rejoicing with the lurking shadows of my forgotten own. Strangers befriended to receive. I befriended to achieve. Crowns, badges and the pedestal… I got it all. The situation was in perfect harmony with time. I juggled between the evil within and the human I had to display. The days and the nights beamed in glee, for, they felt ecstatic to be a part of the ball (dance), and taste the exquisite bisque I dished. I dribbled my way through the crowd in the most dazzling mask that could ever be. The dear ones stood afar, watching a stranger in me.  I put up a show so mesmerizing that it befuddled the inner self. “Do I know you?” Conscience asked me often. I ignored. Refused to reply, though couldn’t silence its constant knock. The fiasco danced its way through the most gorgeous of alleys and gullies. Time witnessed all. It sent a few reminders through the passing wind, but I was too ignorant and proud to hear time’s say. And then, one fine day, fate arrived with a barrel full of prudence. Conscience gave a sigh of relief and let it in to stir my soul. I woke up shuddering, ashamed of my own deeds. The fault of ignoring empathy and allowing pride to be the dearest, eventually led to failure. Actions without a care led to regrets. The guilt of ignoring the voice within ripped me off every delight. I realised the importance of purifying the soul, for, no external glitter could shade the devil within. It was time for me to make a choice. I finally decided to take off the disguise and liberate my spirit. As I stepped on to a soul-searching journey, I called upon Sariel, the Angel of the hour.

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Glossary Sariel - a healing angel. (The Book of Enoch) Befrēoġan – To free; liberate. (old English) ______

[ratemypost]

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