Cirilinda

Once upon a tyme a distinguished though strange gentleman, presumably linked to the nobility (at least this is what the villains commented, in whispers heard on the dirty corners of the village)..... linked to the nobility? By means of the blood and certain inherited properties, one of them being a big mansion, or castle, which could be seen from the village, because it was settled on top of a smooth hill, surrounded by meadows combed by the Mistral wind.

The lights of the mansion were always turned on, by means of the liebe
and the mansion was celeste, zodiacal, a bit.


The age of the gentilhomme was uncertain, although -even- the oldest inhabitants of the village used to swear that he was already there when they were children, most of the people, though, preferred to think that probably, this gentleman was another person, different to the one from their childhood, possibly a son.

One way or another everything about him was unknown for the population of the village, that feared him -a bit- from the distance.

His voice or presence never was heard or seen in the town
until one day.


As he entered the village walking with serene but slow, but serene, but slow pace, one tepid afternoon of May, everybody in town disappeared from his presence, to refuge their faces in their modest houses:

from the inside they spied secretly with scared eyes.


The streets of the village got deserter and deserter at every step of the aristocratic stranger, who walked decidedly in one direction
finally he knocked on a brown door.


With huge prudence and delayed movement, a mature woman opened the door, she was mute and astonished, the man spoke, at last:

_ "Madame, I beg you on my knees you won't get afraid of my presence here, which is as unsolicited as scary, perhaps... which I can understand, since you're a single woman living with your only young daughter, and I am only a stranger who -out of the blue- knocked at your door, please don't fear: I've come to solicit formally your only daughter to marry me, I am a cordial and attentive rich man, I please beg you'd let me in to discuss these matters."

The woman stayed looking at the stranger with incredulous eye, paralyzed and mentally influenced by his iron stare, she allowed the blackened figure to enter, without knowing really why, like an automaton.

Her mind: was blocked?

With authority, as if he was the owner of the humble house, the man begged the woman to sit down
she couldn't move a muscle, then the aristocrat calmed her, casting a magnetic stare on her eye.

because he was using hypnotism.

The attitude of the woman changed suddenly then, she served the stranger some tea, and called for her only daughter, who was washing pears and painting yellow birds in a yard at the back of the house: the name of the girl was Cirilinda.
She was 14.


Cirilinda appeared in the scene with a shy and perturbed rictus, seeing everything under her mental perspective of a 14 year-old girl.
The visual magnetotherapy of the stranger operated on her braïn, too

the man didn't stop talking with distinguished accent, both women noted an unearthly detail: his tongue was silvery.

The preternatural detail ringed in their brains, which were too worked to even realize what their retinas were seeing.


The gentilhomme deposited an enormous and richly adorned leather bag on the modest table, leather bag that was replete of Spanish and English gold coins, guineas

when he opened it, the bag smelled like myrrh and Boeotian vanilla



an unseen golden bright lit the whole room with plutonic ardor, mother and daughter were immobilized.










Cirilinda married the unnamed aristocrat two days later at the local parish, one cloudy and warm Sunday morning of May:

everything was white that morning.


The candles of the church tended to fade at every ceremonious and empty word of the pale clergyman



the last words of the mother to her daughter were sepulchral:

- "Take care, because there's no man born from a woman with a silvery tongue in the world."



The candles of the church tended to fade at every ceremonious and empty word of the pale clergyman.




The honeymoon at the mansion was ardent, and Cirilinda got easily pregnant from a man that still was a perfect stranger.

She didn't know how to call him, so she just chose "Milord", or "Sir"... "Don", eventually.

Every morning the gentleman went out of the mansion, to attend his mundane businesses, supposedly he went to the big city, which was 100 kilometres away, although Cirilinda didn't know exactly where he used to go

- "I shall go out, my sweetheart, to attend my businesses in the world."
he just used to say.

Cirilinda was queen and owner of the whole mansion all day, and owner of 33 out of the 34 bedchambers that the castle had, and the castle was celeste, zodiacal, a bit

the husband gifted her the mansion entirely, it was all hers and only hers
except for one room
because he prohibited her to enter in that 34th room


his words about the prohibition were mystic:

- "If you never ever open that door, your life will be a garden of delights
but if you disobey me in this, you'll bring the disgrace over your life. 
And over mine."


Soon a baby was born, Cirilinda gave birth a girl, she was baptized and her name Cirilinda was, like her mother.
The baby was beautiful and healthy, and the parents loved her, although her mother was breastfeeding her with the milk of the curious uncertainty, which was in her blood, and which was growing more and more every day.



The years for both Cirilindas went by in a happy reverie of delight and joy, perhaps isolated from the real world:
Cirilinda, the mother, living like a queen, with servants, and the pleasures of the gentry, provided by a husband who loved her tenderly.

Cirilinda, the daughter, loved by her father and mother, and living in the luxury, spoiled and having everything a child could want, even her least whim was fulfilled.

The silvery tongued aristocrat spent most of the day out of the castell, he only was present in the mansion at night, to see her daughter, and to love Cirilinda.
During years, in the nights, he fucked her vaginally

the anal or bucal coitus, or any other coitus or amatory practice besides the vaginal penetration of the man, were deemed impure by the episcopal authorities in the XIV century, and punished with testicular incineration, and obstruction of the female anus, as commanded in Papal Bull.
The lips of the wife -or any other illegal part used to perform the act- were also deformed, anointing them with zarzaparrilla and bloodsuckers, because the sexual act was only performed in order to the procreation, notwithstanding contraceptive structures were inserted in the woman's body, like the tubular onthrax, but only the rich could afford these secret and expensive surgeries.

No one really knows why, or maybe everybody knows, but in the end it had to happen:

one morning of January, when the husband was away, Cirilinda couldn't stand the curiosity anymore, and opened the door of the 34th room



in front of her eyes, a horrible scene appeared: the room was full of flames and screams... high flames and shouts was all that the forbidden bedchamber had inside, flames and screams, and nothing more.

Despite the fact that, after years living there, she's got used to supernatural details, she couldn't stop watching with horror in her eye, how, after a while, the flames were fading progressively, going more and more opaque and dim

as the flames disappeared, they were replaced by huge blocks of ice, surrounded by horrid stalactites.

Her eyes observed, at last, how herself was trapped in one of the blocks of ice:

in that moment her own eyes from the congealed block fixed a mysterious stare on her eyes, that were observing from the outside

Cirilinda closed the door in a scream of terror.



After these sad and incredible events, the whole appearance, life and vigour of Cirilinda started fading, and she was just 20
she got paler every day: submersed into a deep melancholy she was gradually refusing to eat, and in a few months her contexture looked like a phantasmal and bony apparition.

She also refused the marital sex of her husband, and he knew everything that was happening

the curse of the events flowed inalterably, so that Cirilinda -the mother- expired
like someone who dies in a dream she expired, in a radiant July morning, silently, without words.

With a profound sadness, the gentilhomme in black deposited Cirilinda, her lover wife in a tomb, in the meadow near to the castle

and the tomb was caressed by the shadow projected by old myrtles, and that was the last image he saw from Cirilinda as the tomb was closed slow and heavily, under the twilight of a sun of July that ran, veloce, toward his own lovertomb, the night.







Cirilinda the daughter, as well, she was growing at the mild atmosphere of that mansion, as the years went by she grew, in a mansion that was isolated from the miserable and sad world, miserable and sad world where the villains eat their lentils with fatigue in their houses built in mud, and where the kings and queens turn into despots
despots who always are about to be beheaded by the enraged and impoverished mob.






Years went by, for Cirilinda, the daughter, whose aspect, hair, body, manners and even voice, every day, resembled her mother so much, that her father, tranced in strange thoughts, almost didn't dare to look at her.

Years went by, for Cirilinda, the daughter, whose aspect at her 15th birthday, was already the spitting image of Cirilinda the mother, and the similarity was so phenomenal, that even the old servants were amazed of this maravilla infernal, and afraid. Their superstitious minds were actually terrified to death.

And the girl lived in the same luxury and careless joy in which she lived since she was born, because so is the life of the rich
and she ran across the near meadow, and sometimes, she passed close to the tomb of her mother, but she didn't remind her, and she laughed, like a sparrow-girl.

In fact she didn't remind her at all, and she played, because she still was 15, with the iridescent pheasant and with the bêtes de luxe of her father she played, which were all tamed and castrated, like the svelte lynx, the speedy ocelot, the robust ñandu or the golden monkeys, imported from the mysterious jungles of Hasia.

She played, because she still was 15, and no man penetrated her yet.





Years went by, and no one really knows why, or maybe everybody knows, but in the end it had to happen:

one morning of January, when the father was away, Cirilinda -the daughter- couldn't stand the curiosity anymore, and she opened the door of the 34th room:


with panic in the eye, she saw the high flames, and heard the dissonant screams, and as the flames were growing colder and getting dim
and as the blocks of ice substituted them gradually, she saw her mother, who looked exactly like her, caught in a block: from the inside of a near block, herself was observing her with enïgmatic stare.

She closed the door with a violent slam while a denaturalized screech of horripilation escaped from her throat.


Gradually, since that moment, her physiognomy, mood, air and vital strength verified a change, which was visible as the weeks and months went by?

Cirilinda, the daughter, who lost progressively her appetite, was acquiring the thinness and paleness, first, of a sick girl, and finally of a horrid living dead entity... the shape of her bones got more and more marked under her skin every day, and she refused to go out of the mansion, even to hygienize herself or cut her fingernails, spending most of the day on her bed, sleeping or crying, turning -in the end- into a phantasmal creature, who was heard roaming by the corridors of the castle, late at night
sometimes
always
never

and the castle was celeste, zodiacal, a bit.



The curse of the events flowed inalterably, so that Cirilinda -the daughter- expired, like someone who dies in a dream she expired, in a radiant July morning, silently, almost without words.










The man in black deposited the second Cirilinda in the empty tomb of her mother, who was not there.