The Case of the Decapitated

No one would listen to him when he talked about the incident of the head. The incident happened not too long ago; he could still revive every second of it in his mind. He was walking in a deserted field. The land was ash gray, burnt trees and beings were covering the most part of it. But he was not alone. Other people were also going about the field, minding whatever business they were in possession of.

What was his business? Nothing of import. He just happened to be in the area. He was wearing black that day, which was quite uncharacteristic of him. And weirdly, that motivated him to do something uncharacteristic as well : walk among dead bodies just to pass time. 

He had only been strolling for a couple minutes when he saw it. His own head. It was gray also, as if it had decided to be one with the land it was occupying. The eyes were looking out solemnly, lips pursed. He was surprisingly calm when he knelt down to lift it up in his hands.

“If this is mine, how come I can see it?” he asked himself. He held it close to his side, and turned his back. He needed an explanation.

The road outside the field had a bus stop. He looked carefully at the sign posted at the stop’s shelter. There was only one line that passes by that stop, one directed to Antword.

“Oh, how lovely, the bus is coming in less than five minutes,” he chuckled to himself.

“But it is not necessary for you to go so soon,” said a bold voice next to him. He looked to the direction of where the voice had come; a lady had appeared next to him.

He had never been so perplexed by the view of a lady before. She was dressed in lace the color of navy down to her feet, her ruby hair tied up in a neat bun, and she was wearing a thin veil held by a small hat at the side of her head. It was as if she was ready to wed someone, but couldn’t figure out the right color to wear. And how he couldn’t tell the color of her eyes! It seemed as if they changed color every so often.

“Excuse me, my lady, for ignoring your presence. How disrespectful of me,” he bowed an apology.

The young lady’s lips formed what looked like a knowing smile, and she waved her hand in a dismissive manner. “I was here alright but I didn’t show myself. I decide who deserves to see me in my true form.”

The young lady looked out to the empty road in front of them. “I have been waiting to get on the bus for quite a long time now. I’ve learnt to choose the people I talk to.”

“I thought the bus passes every fifteen minutes,” the man said.

“Yes, yes it does. Don’t worry. For me, the time just hasn’t come to ride it yet.”

The man didn’t say a word. His right arm started to feel weary of holding his head, he moved it to his left side. “I wonder if I, too, have to wait here for a while.”

The lady started walking about the bus shelter. So graceful and light were her steps, it looked like the earth moved with her. She looked intently to the man, and he noticed the pink glow in her eyes.

“Is that yours?” she pointed to his head.

“It is.”

“I suppose when your head is gone, you must not delay any attempt to get it back.”

It was a sensible answer. He gazed at his head, it was getting colder in his hands. And heavier. But what about this young lady? What matter had she, that could wait for as long as she had waited?

“I have to wait for courage to come.” the lady startled him.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s why I had waited and am still waiting. I haven’t got the courage to face the answers I am looking for.”

It was already a very particular day for the man even before the young lady showed up. They heard a sound of the bus approaching, and the lady motioned her head.

“Thank you for accompanying me,” he bowed.

“You will see me again.” The young lady smiled, and slowly disappeared until the amber of her eyes were the last he could see. He stepped out of the shelter as the bus stopped, and its doors opened.

“How much to Antword?” he asked.

“Oh, we don’t ask for fares to people who lost their head,” responded the driver. “Hop on. To Antword!”

2 Nov 2014, by Ernestasia

“My dreams are haunting me.” | “Haunt them back and show them who’s boss.”

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