Pendant "Gold of the Abyss"

Подвеска "Золото Бездны"
Подвеска "Золото Бездны"
Подвеска "Золото Бездны"
Подвеска "Золото Бездны"
Подвеска "Золото Бездны"
Подвеска "Золото Бездны"
Подвеска "Золото Бездны"

Author: Praskovia Vlasova (Girhasha)

Material: sterling silver and amber (sold), bronze and amber (for sale).

Length: 5 cm (2 in)

 

"More and more often I come to the deserted wild beach where cold winds gnaw deep cracks in the rocks and the waves crush and mill fragile stones. I wander along the narrow path made of crushed fragments of lava and ashes, squeezed between the cliffs and the rumbling sea. I have never seen even a foot print of other people here, and animals try to avoid this place as well. Only sometimes clamorous seagulls hover in the distance, not daring to approach.

When you go down to the sea, all the colours suddenly fade away, turning into infinite gradations of black and gray. The roar of the waves and the whistling of wind in rocks fill in the world and silence all the other sounds. They always try to get into my head and devour my thoughts. The never changing pattern on the sand from the sea foams captivates the sight like a pendulum in the hands of a hypnotist.

It sometimes seems to me that the coloured spots are flashing and sparkling in this bleak landscape. Sometimes I see a flower, reminding someone’s blond hair, blossoming on the sea surface, sometimes there is a crimson blood stain on the sharp rocks, sometimes there is a vague silhouette as white as milk, calling me from the darkest depths. But when I come closer, the mirage always disappears. In this place I am seized by anguish and ghosts.

When the tide absorbs a narrow strip of sand, I climb to the top of the cliff and look at the insatiable abyss gaping under my feet. At these moments I feel that a pendant in my jacket’s pocket starts to weigh it down. Each time I am struggling with the desire to throw it back into the abyss from which it appeared. With all my might I squeeze the pendant in my hand until I feel physical pain. The cold, which lives inside it, is crawling up my forearm. But no matter how strong is my hatred for this accursed piece of jewellery, I cannot throw it away, because it is the only thread that still binds me to her.

A piece of amber, squeezed between intertwined tentacles, glitters like liquid gold. Its surface always remains cold and covered with moisture, as if it has just been taken from the sea foam. Even now, despite the evil hidden inside it, I cannot help staring at the graceful curves of metal and charming depth of the stone.

She found this piece of amber here on the beach on the first day when I showed her my secret shelter. Since then three years have passed; this period was filled with love and happiness, which gradually have transformed into grief and madness. Local doctors told us that her seizures had appeared because of some hereditary neurological disease. They prescribed her different pills which expelled not only the disease, but also all the thoughts from her head. She felt herself better only here, looking at the sea roaring, crashing against the foot of the cliff. At these moments her dull eyes were filled with life again and she always was fiddling with the chain of the pendant which she had never removed.

The doctors were wrong: the reason for her disease was not hidden in bad genes, but in the amber stone. It was endlessly whispering to her about the calmness of the sea depth. It was luring her with the lullabies of the waves and the softness of the ripples on the water. One day I did not keep an eye on her, so she threw herself from the cliff edge into the embrace of the storming depth of the sea. I could only see how water devoured her and it was too late to do anything. The body was never found. A few days after I have noticed a golden glitter among the black sand – it was her amber pendant.

Nowadays I also hear and feel the attracting calmness of the abyss. I unsuccessfully tried to resist to it, but every day I am getting closer and closer to the the same cliff edge. Each time it is more and more difficult to convince myself that the familiar and dear voice in my head which promises to meet me under the surface of the dark water is only a figment of my imagination..." 

 

© 2015  Извне.