Molt

The faint morning light bathed the windows of the yellow house at the end of the street. Opposite, in her garden, Madame Metrios watered the petunias, her curious eyes already looking for some movement in the opposite house.

A breath of wind, sweet as a flute, opened the shutters and she, immediately, sharpened her sight, greedy.

In her room, standing at the window, Zelda Zei looked at the sun, completely naked.

Transfigured by all that light, the white skin was shining, and on it were melting, voluptuous, the hair.

But what was more obscene was actually the almost transparent eyes, cold, but at the same time triumphant, exultant.

She looked like a witch who had just drunk the blood of an evil animal.

Suddenly two male hands, strong and white as alabaster, surrounded her weist, like a snake. Behind her, Noah Napnei also stood, naked and pale, in the morning light.

Zelda's eyes rested, full of wisdom, on the voyeur across the street. Madame Metrios could only pretend to concentrate on her petunias, mentally pinning down the details of that scabrous sight to bring back to her friends that very afternoon.

Two windows away, Madame Istor mixed some herbs, sitting at her kitchen table full of books and jars with faded labels.

A new gust of wind blew away the blinds of the yellow house, and Madame Istor looked in that direction, as one turns to the sound of a drum roll.

The half-open blinds cast deep shadows on Zelda Zei's body, drawing her neck, collarbone, abdomen. That singular striped dress reminded Madame Istor of the mantle of a snake she once admired at the change of the molt.

***

It was around mid day and Madame Istor was sitting at the table in her kitchen, lost in thoughts about that snake who changed the molt. Something was off.

Three knocks at the door jolted Madame Istor from her reverie. She went to open the door and saw Zelda.

She was smiling and her eyes held that peculiar tenderness and freshness that made her so loved and admired by everyone. And so envied, it has to be said. Her resemblance with a little pink flower who blossoms in spring was something nobody could ignore. But at the same time, it was also what made people want to spend time with her, because she was so full of hope. She knew no sadness, no defeat. At least, this is how she used to be before the fact about Noah.

In any case, the Zelda at the door was the usual Zelda, and has nothing to do with the naked woman at the window, cold and cruel.

This Zelda was warm and soft.

The strangeness of the swift change got Madame Istor worry, but she decided to not indulge in the idea for the moment.

"Good morning, sweet Zelda. What can I do for you?" Madame Istor was the first to spoke.

"Do I need a reason to see a friend?" Zelda chuckled softly and entered the house, taking notably sinuous steps.

Zelda was always blessed with gracious manners, but her movements now were too winding, too meandering.

"I was wondering if you can sew a dress for me. It is for saturday night. There is a ball at the company to celebrate the beginning of the new semester."

Madame Istor was silent for a moment and then asked.

"Will you go with Noah?"

"Of course." Zelda answered coldy.

Here we go again. The abrupt swing of attitude. The change of the mood. Anything related to Noah was able to freeze her like that. To burn of a sudden all the flowers in her garden.

"And how would you like to get dressed?"

Zelda smiled and answered in a soft and alluring voice "I would love to wear a long black dress made of snake scales."

"You want a dress who looks like a black snake molt?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I happened to change my skin recently, and I want everybody to notice that."

Zelda gave a peck on Madame Istor's cheek and left the house.

The old woman was left in a daze, looking the door closing.

"They will notice it anyway."

She heard Zelda mumble before the door shut totally.

Yes, Noah. You are toxic for me. Being exposed to you is like being exposed to Mercury. But I am fast and light as Mercury. That is how I jump from my beautiful garden to your burden Hell, the very same Hell you want me to embrace as Queen.

Queen of you damm Hell.

Queen of no consequences.

Queen of true scars.

Queen of true obscenities.

Queen of true melancholy.

Queen of the dark side of the very same light I love.

The moment Noah saw his wife coming back, he closed the playful dancing shutters, like conducting a lyrical drama at its epilogue, protecting their souls from the misunderstanding of the world.

END OF VOLUME I