The Dead Man’s Palace
III
Three months of happy delirium followed
as the girl remembered what having company felt like.
The voice she’d barely used for a year was
forced out to express her delight.
The slave girl couldn’t sit still without twitching,
her hands moving to grasp at tasks
like a comfort blanket.
The girl would gently hold them in her own,
caressing the rough skin, almost
tasting the life they must have lived.
‘You must call me Cecilia, I haven’t heard it in so long.
Do you have a name?’
The slave girl shook her head at first
before noticing Cecilia’s pointed look.
‘No, Miss Cecilia.’
Cecilia carefully considered her
for some days, assessing to determine
her personality and character.
‘From now on, your name is Havana.’
The corpse unnerved her new friend
so Cecilia let her take over all meal preparations.
Her creations were mediocre
-clearly she hadn’t been a kitchen slave-
but Cecilia made sure to nibble on each offering.
Food didn’t appeal to her much,
not since arriving in the palace.
She used to be beautiful,
she used to have pride,
but a year in solitude had
stripped everything away.
‘I’m here for redemption,’ she told Havana,
laughing at her shocked expression.
‘Do I look so innocent that you can’t
imagine I’ve done unforgiveable things?’
Cecilia debated teasing her further,
enjoying shaping a new version of herself
through this blank-slate of a girl.
Her conscience pricked at Havana’s pained look,
so she softened her wicked smile into
a more honest, heart-broken one.
‘My father is a king and I grew up
happy and generous.
One day I was on the balcony with my maids
when an old lady walked by and asked for money.
I threw down a bag, and she asked for more.
I threw down another bag, and she still asked for more.
I got angry, and refused,
surely two bags was enough when she hadn’t
done anything to earn it.
But instead of being grateful, she called up:
‘I curse you for your conceitedness,
deciding how much another needs.
So now I will choose your future path
and you won’t like where it leads.
‘As a young, beautiful woman
matrimony is your plan,
but you will never marry
until you find the dead man.
‘And so I left all I knew
and travelled to this palace.
In here I found the dead man,
who I must watch over until he wakes.’
She looked at Havana then, gripping her arms
as a wave of anxiety overwhelmed her.
‘Please don’t leave me, Havana.
There’s only three months and one week left.
Please.’
For a year she’d been here,
getting weaker, thinner,
hearing whispers in her mind,
becoming delirious from lack of sleep.
She’d seen the corpse twitch,
was convinced it looked healthier
as she grew frail.
But she couldn’t stop now.
She couldn’t give up on
lifting the curse.
Havana’s hands lightly rested over Cecilia’s,
a reassuring caress that allowed
Cecilia to ease her death grip.
‘I promise, Miss Cecilia,
I will never leave you,
and I’ll always protect you.’
Scribbled Thoughts 