The room was painted black, soft and tender on the eyes, after the harsh glare of the floral wall paper outside. The smoke careered from the tip of the joss stick and spiraled out, like fine silver silk. It curled from the orange point, spreading like a silver ribbon. Jade formed smoke rings in the air.
She felt hypnotized as she twirled, leaving a trail of broken smoke behind her. They feathered out in all directions, like fine silk strands of thread. Her long black dress fanned out around her as she whirled on the spot, occasionally allowing a note to escape her heart-shaped red lips. Her glossy black hair rippled as she moved, barefoot on the carpet. She inhaled the sweet scent, twirling more as the last notes of the song played. She flicked the incense with ease, and watched the ash drop onto the china dish, already piled with small dunes. She watched the grey heap of ash as smoke began to swirl around her. She made another smoke ring, a small flick of the wrist. She watched it spread out, its once smooth curves breaking up. She pressed play on the stereo and the song played again, for the last time.
She listened to each note as it drifted dreamily through the smoke to her ears. She sighed, allowing all the desperate air to be freed from her lungs. She hadn’t made the most of it all, she had held on too tight. The tighter her pale fingers had clenched around what she already had, the more trickled away, like water seeping from her cupped hands.
She felt a streamlet of salty tears slide soundlessly down her cheek. She let the song wash over her, let each lyric sink into her, like nectar. Rain lashed against the window, heavy enough to blur the image of the moon outside. The beat of the rain drops followed the music and serenaded the atmosphere.
Jade wiped her eyes and lit her long cream church candle. She’d been saving it for a special occasion. The flame grew, and Jade lit another joss stick from it. The smell engulfed her, coiled around her limbs, and smothered all other smells in the room. The waxy smell of the burning candle faded into the background. She paused, contemplating the aroma around her. No matter which incense she selected, regardless of their colour or flavor, they always had an undertone of burning wood. And always a small dune of ash was all that remained. The tragic life cycle of a joss stick. She almost smiled.
“And with eyes so pale, I could fade away…..” The music cooed. The newly hatched flame of the candle flickered, reflecting in Jade’s frosty blue eyes.
Jade closed her eyes, letting the song describe every detail of her existence. She let it soothe her decaying anger, her desperate need to be one. To be part of the crowd and to have the state of mind that she was in it.
The music softened as the song slowed to a blissful end. As the last lines filled Jade’s head, she wiped the tear from her cheek and pressed the rewind button with one shaking finger. The noise of the tape rewinding filled the awkward gap of silence. Jade lit another joss stick. The silver smoke wrapped around her pale body. She waited for the tape to click before lighting the final joss stick.
Her eyes are wide and glassy, staring at a point on a different celestial plain. Her open wrists face upwards, towards heaven. The ceiling, walls and floor are all covered with droplets of blood, lost in the depths of the black paint. The crisp white bed linen – not yet slept in – are splashed with blood, like Death had flicked his red fountain pen over the macabre scene. Syrupy blood slid sluggishly down the pale church candle. The flame had been smothered with blood, which extinguished it and sent the room into solemn darkness. Each framed photo is speckled with crimson, each image becomes ominous…. telling a new story. The rain had slowed as her life seeped away from her. The last drop fell five minutes ago. The air is still moist.
An odd smile touches the corners of her mouth. Her face is streaked with blood, where her drenched hair had brushed against her cheeks. Sinister coils of soft grey smoke submerge her body, protecting it from everything else in the room. Despite this, the bitter-sweet smell of iron penetrates the smoke and eventually swamps it. The room grows cold and silent as the moon rises in the dark sky. Stars twinkle in the velvet darkness in pairs, like a vampire has been chewing on the heavens.
All of this mortal world reflects in her icy eyes as her bedroom door creaks open and the smell of roasted chicken enters the room, allowing a shed of golden light to fall upon her peaceful face. At last she belongs somewhere.