The Guillotine | ONC 2022

IV

16th October 1793

The chilly autumn wind was sweeping through the dirty streets collecting all the trash that lay in the gutters, bringing it under the tired hooves of horses who were looking forward to the end of their shift.

Holding the hem of my long white dress in one hand and a basket with food and wine in the other, I made my way up the curved road to my house.

The blazing sun rays cascaded down the roofs of buildings like water, falling down a rocky stream and making tiny puddles of its golden essence glisten on the pavement.

This golden rain was the halo of us all…

In less than a year after we have justly executed the tyrant we bestowed punishment upon his capricious wife as well.

Yes, that day around noon we took the head of Marie Antionette, cutting the last bonds that had been tying us to the old regime.

We were gaining more freedom every day…

Well, some of us, the ones who deserved it.

Those who didn't want to be a part of the revolution were either forced to comply by force or were eliminated.

Just as the Convent declared, Terror is the order of the day!

Let our enemies tremble with fear and crawl through the dust at our feet! We'll rise victorious, creating a new everlasting empire of freedom!

And then, suddenly, as if I ran into a dead end, I stopped in my tracks, out of breath with a sudden realization.

This was the place where my husband declared love to me…

There by the crumbling wall, under the balcony with a rusty railing, he, his eyes full of admiration, said I was his Goddess and that he'd treat me like that till his death.

And indeed he did.

Till his death three months ago, he truly did everything he could to please me and fulfilled my every wish… except the most important one- becoming a man I could love.

It wasn't my fault that I felt nothing towards him. It wasn't my fault that I wasn't attracted to him. It wasn't my fault that he died unhappy…

Suddenly a strange sadness overcame my senses.

I didn't want him to be alive. I didn't want him by my side and yet… and yet I did.

Not for himself and his personality, rather for that warm feeling of safety he brought into my life.

He loved me, he adored me and that all had been buried with him in that cheap grave I bought him.

One day I found myself longing to visit it and after three hours of fruitless searching I realized that the tombstone and the locality was so plain it completely got lost in that sea of stones, which one like the other, stood there lined up like soldiers marching into a great battle.

Bravo, Héloïse, you gave your husband a fatal blow. First you end his life and then you kill his memory. You completely erased him from the face of Earth.

And then it happened…

Without realizing it a tear ran down my face, dropping down onto my hand.

Where did this grief come from? It wasn't the regret of losing my husband…

No, it was shame, humiliation and disappointment…

This was not how I imagined my life after my husband's death!

I didn't want to be left alone! I didn't want to be the widow, whose son barely comes home! I didn't want to be the woman who falls asleep in an empty bed each night!