The Queen
A short story inspired by true fragments.
I was a college student when it all began — staying alone in my grandmother’s old house. The kind of quiet that wraps around you and lingers like an ancient whisper.
It was an ordinary morning. I woke up, splashed cold water on my face. But then, I noticed it — wrapped delicately around my ring finger — a long, reddish strand of hair. It wasn’t mine. No woman had been in the house for months. No one with hair like that. It was nearly 80 centimeters long. I kept it, locked it in a box.
Curiosity got the best of me. That night, I wrapped it back around my finger and slept.
In the morning — it was gone.
I searched everywhere. The bed, the room, nothing.
The next night, it returned, on the same finger. As if nothing happened.
That’s when people started telling me —
“She’s in love with you. A queen. Not from this world.”
I didn’t believe in such things. Why would a spirit need a messenger? If she loved me, why not appear herself?
Then came the wedding.
One night, while lying in bed with my wife, my wedding ring simply… slipped off.
We both heard the sound. Felt it hit the mattress.
We searched for hours.
Nothing.
We gave up and slept.
By morning, the ring was on my wife’s finger.
She was terrified.
And I — strangely calm.
There were other moments.
My mother and sisters would see a beautiful woman walking out of the room I slept in.
They said the house smelled of flowers every time.
I remember once — just once — I saw her.
Minutes before waking, she appeared at the foot of my bed.
Called my name three times.
Her fingers brushed my arm.
The marks stayed for three days.
Three long, silent lines.
For a while, I could feel people’s thoughts. I’d know what someone was going to say before they spoke.
Like watching a scene you’ve seen before.
Living in a déjà vu that never ended.
A spiritual friend — one of those who never took money — told me once,
“She’s a queen. And she wants to appear before you. She wants you to be hers.”
He guided me through verses. I closed my eyes.
And I saw her. Royal. Fierce. Still.
She looked like light shaped as a woman.
But I refused her.
Not out of fear —
but because if I ever had a disagreement with her…
I wasn’t sure who would survive.
Years passed.
I buried the story.
Until one day — for no reason —
It all came back.
The scent.
The mark.
The silence.
The Queen
Comments
Post a Comment