To Live

Sarah looks on the cracked, darkened floor. An old, vintage Vuitton suitcase lies open with a single row of white clothes arranged inside. Her thoughts echo in the cavity of our ears:

" Tonight I am seeing all this for the last time."

She leans against the wall, with an ornate picture in her hands. Deeply round, vintage as well, we see a black and white picture candle lit by the only candle burning in the room. It's a woman.

A young one.

"Vernacular lies, I am a governess now. Daughter of a minister and a princess. I I'll never look back. "

The desperate wall is shedding tears. That is old factory wallpaper falling of the walls. The room is small; unfit for the beautiful young lady.

" A better life awaits me..I am but sure of that"

The door opens wide, and the woman's silhouette is leaving the scene.

The canopy of rusted leaves and trees is shedding in dark greens a deepened manor in the woods. We are relatively close to a single tremor in time, and the ceilings of this manor, as we are taken inside - are deeply ornate. In white flowers. But the manor is empty..

.....fires are lit everywhere on the rooms spaces but we cannot see one human soul.

The rooms are warm. As if all would need people.....but not one soul to be seen.

Suddenly , in the sound of crackled glasses and tingling china, we are introduced to a room where someone is having dinner seemingly.

It is a beautiful place. Warm atmosphere and candid smiles makes it all even more beautiful.

And then we recognize. One of the 6 guests is the young female. Wearing a pale white dress, with a cover over her shoulders the color of dark plums.

- I understand....we are here on occasion, miss, said the Lord.

- Yes, milord. I would like to offer my services upon a better timeline of my own soul to educate young Cecilia on literature. May I say, Psychology. My soul is fed by these historical surroundings.

My apologies if...you know. ...i wrote a treaty. "The timelines of the Soul." It is published in London just next month. In Summer - in all bookstores.

- Lady Sarah, can you please make us aware of your schedule for Cecilia? As of your background...? a young woman dressed in black is addressing in warm voice across the table.

Sarah takes a moment. A deep breath. Then she looks up. On the white ceiling. A few minutes almost seem to pass. There is an awkward tension in the room.

- ....I packed light. I have nothing to carry with me. Only myself and my own memory.

As my academic Curriculum, calendar and a prestigious signature from Oak school. When I saw the ad in the gazette, I did not think twice. The telegram was short and simply on point. Admitted for the testing time here, I came on hopes I am the first and possibly the one who will receive the governess position for Cecilia. My family....my father was a minister. My mother a Princess

...I grew up in a private school. Oak school.

All my 20 years and more.

An old man is interrupting Sarah. Grunting.

- Yes milady. We all know Oak school. Only elite, princes and princesses are admitted there. They have barely 200 students per year.

-And large forests.... corridors...Sarah sighs.

- Do you miss it? Do you miss it lady Sarah?!

The crystalline voice of a young girl is heard. We see little Cecilia staying at the table right at the end. The girl might be 10...11. Very fair, pale white skin, dark green dress, large eyes, hazel.

Yes and no. I miss the forest. But I don't miss my life there. There was time for something new for me. And I here I am now. My time in London was quite depressing. I could not fit the buildings there. The streets....the streets are very ....dark. Dirty....full of people I even forgot can live in such situations.

- But also of high society. Splendid shops with beautiful garments.

- That's true , sighs Sarah. But. I must coordinate my thoughts in the fact that it didn't fit my own thesis on the Soul and Psychology Culture I am on now. To see poverty was very depressing.

She blushes. Then adds, shy.

"I forgot poverty exists. It is an existence for some."

Cecilia widens her eyes.

- Lady Sarah. I wrote too, something on the Soul. It is a poem.

For you.

- Excuse her , lady Sarah, says the old man across the table. Since she lost her mother ...she wanted to find a bond. You understand. She didn't even met you yet.

- Up to now, says Sarah full of love, looking at the young girl. We have time. I am genuinely feeling at ease , here, with you ...and everything.

The old man barely smiles. He seems sad. His wide eyes, darkened by time.

- Yes.

His short reply leaves everything silent. The room with the six people is "a clock stopped in time," as we hear little Cecilia s thought in the room.

I am her grandfather. As her grandfather, I believe younger company is needed. She does write poetry. She is well versed. I don't know where she takes it from. Her mother had no literary inclinations. Her father....well. Her father died in the accident. Together. With her mother.

- and I survived..... whispers young Cecilia. Looking down.

The young woman across the table, in black, stops them.

- Let us not return to the pain of the past. It is enough time to soothe this later. Maybe young Cecilia will want to bring her poetry to us all tonight?

- What a beautiful idea, adds Sarah smiling. Of course this should be done. Let me help you bring it down to us!

- Yes , yes , yes, says Cecilia. So happy to give you this to read, lady Sarah!

- Maybe the girls could be excused for a minute? adds the woman in black.

- Of course, says the old man. Go, Cecilia.

Minutes pass, and the two return with a notebook.

The streets are draped in rain outside and all the chimneys are lit inside. We hear a young Cecilia citing a poem in the dining room, as we are taken to the halls of this manor.

Late at night in a night gown, we see Sarah in a new room, lit by three candles, very much silent in her own thoughts. Her palms are on her face. She seems depressed.

" So it is done. I am a governess. Cecilia is adorable. I feel strange. Void. I feel I need to fill a void in this house. In this soul. In this room. In this life.

...in my life. "

The young woman dressed up in the gown, moves towards the window. Outside everything is dark and humid.

"I am at home. May my Soul be at last at home too"

She turns around and leaving the candles lit, looks in the mirror. A young woman looks back at her, in eyes of love and truth.

***

Fin