I showed up before the most exquisite statue I had ever seen. It was a famous statue, Lacrimosa. A hundred years from now, this statue has been a place for tourism. But that’s not all. It holds sorrow, pain and… death.
The legend says that whoever touches this statue, if he or she is her soulmate, then Lacrimosa will become human again. I didn’t know if that was true. No one did. Till now, the statue had remained the same.
Today, I visited the museum in which they kept Lacrimosa. It wasn’t the holidays, so the crowd was relatively less. They had allowed only one person at a time to visit. And now I was before this magnificent piece of art. Lacrimosa’s face was heart-shaped. Her doe shaped eyes were full of tears. Her mouth looked like she was screaming before the disaster...it seemed. Her face expressed genuine emotions, unlike the other statues, which were all perfect. But from my eyes to hers, it felt like a connection.
She held a flower in her right hand, crunching the flower. Her dress was from the nineteenth century. If she had colours instead of this white, greyish marble, I swear she’d look real.
It tempted me to touch her face. I felt something wrong about this, but I couldn’t resist and put my hands on Lacrimosa’s cheek. I waited, but nothing happened. Hah! As expected. I turned around, feeling disappointed. But I quickly turned around again to see something unbelievable.
The hyacinth in her hand turned a light shade of violet. I got closer, taking the flower from her hand. As each second passed by, her tears became more real, then they rushed down to her chin. It was as if she was healing as if time was reversing itself. Her white marble cheeks turned light skin with rosy cheeks. Her hair became the darkest shade of brown. Her entire body, along with her green coloured dress, became its true self. Then she moved. Her hands darted straight to her face, and she kept rubbing her eyes to remove the tears, but they seemed to come back.
This I couldn’t control, I went straight towards her. She fell unconscious in my arms. It perplexed me. Guards covered the entry. If they saw me with the most famous girl in the city. They will arrest me for thievery. I didn’t know where to go. She was asleep, I even tried to call her by her name again, but she didn’t wake up. It was understandable. Who wouldn’t want to stay asleep after being frozen in time for more than a century? The first thing I felt was an instant pity. But I had to find a way out.
I kept entering rooms and reentering enormous halls to find the exit. Then finally, at the end of one hall, was a big glowing exit sign. I peeped through the door to check if anyone was outside. An old lady was passing by. She looked at me, and I smiled at her weirdly as to not look suspicious. She didn’t smile back. She ignored me and left. I sighed.
How was Lacrimosa real? And how was I her… soulmate?
I saw a brown leather coat hanging at an umbrella stand. I took it and tried to cover her face and body at the same time. I wondered, “This sounds like kidnapping”
I saw my Red Toyota and thankfully, no one was in the parking lot. I turned on the engine and with that; I set off to my home. I loved classical music, so as the radio turned on, it started playing “Lacrimosa” By Mozart.
The irony. Lacrimosa seemed to sleep nicely. She opened her eyes and looked at me; I said nothing. She fell asleep again, and this time she kept her head on my shoulder. It felt warm.
As I arrived at my house, with Lacrimosa in my support, I searched for the keys in my pockets. I had a little heart - attack when I thought it wasn’t anywhere. But it was fortunate in my back pocket.
I lived alone.
I sat her down on my sofa as I thought my bedroom would be weird. I pulled up a vast blanket and placed it on her carefully. My tea skills were awesome. I pulled up a quick hot tea. I looked at Lacrimosa. She blinked her eyes a few times as a reaction to the bright LED lights. She sniffed around her until she realized I was making tea.
“Do you want anything?” I asked.
She stared at me, and instead of answering, she burst into tears. She looked like her statue again, full of pain. “Henry!” She said.
“What happened?” I asked, striding towards her and sat next to her,
“You...you don’t remember me?” She asked. I knew that whatever my answer would be, she would burst into tears again.
“I... don’t,” I said, in a low voice. “Why?”
She wiped her tears and said, “I missed you”
“Can you tell me what you are talking about? I can’t understand a word, Lacrimosa,”
“It seems like you don’t even remember my name, do you?”
She softly smiled and said, “It’s Amara”
“What?”
“My name- It’s Amara,”
“I got that, but- I just can’t believe you’re alive. Right now- Like in my house,” I said, as I questioned everything “You know what, just tell me. How are you, like this?”
“Hmm... okay,” She said.
‘Well, it all began one day when you came to work at my house. While you would work in the garden, I recited my long stories to you.
Our friendship grew, and slowly, when you and I became sixteen, you asked me to marry you. I happily said yes, not knowing it could lead to my eternal misery.
I told this news to my father. My father forced me to stay in my room, saying nothing.
Finally, after a few days, I sneaked out of my room and found that you had left the job. I didn’t believe it and so I asked my dad; he said you resigned yourself, and I would not sit in silence. So I went to your house, and you said you had changed your mind. But I knew my father had something to do about this.
I cried for days and days. One day, I went over to your new job, which was in my neighbour’s house. And I argued with you, begged you, and you said yes. Confessing that it was never your decision.
Hand in hand, I took you with me to my father.
That man told me he would plan our marriage as soon as possible. We were so happy, that moment was everything to us. Me marrying the love of my life was a dream I thought wasn’t achievable.
But my wicked father betrayed me. He captured and sent you to die at the witch’s hands. I witnessed your death; I cried and cried till that witch turned me to a marble statue.’
After hearing that story, my brain was dead. She tried to smile through her teary eyes and I hugged her. A hyacinth scent flew through her hair.
Slowly, the puzzle pieces in my mind came together. And the result was water flowing out of my eyes. I could remember everything, the witch, my death and Amara.
Amara was everything. When I proposed to her, she said yes. They were in love again.