Pasts thrown upon them

Two women in a falling House.

Wrinkles, smells, dust, darkness

Time leaves its marks. Merciless.


The House moans. The women hurt.

Oozing wounds on the walls.

Wasted lives and madness.

No sign of tomorrow.

In every drawer, in every cupboard, boxes of sadness

Under the carpets, fragments of sorrow.


Men have come and gone

Scared and fragile.

Inhabiting their dreams, terrorizing their sleep,

The true lord of the castle rules,

The one-eyed feline.


One day the youngest lady finds the attic.

Ages spent looking for that in this nightmarish maze.

The door opens and she sees her long lost treasure, black and perfect.

Downstairs the old woman lies motionless in her bed, empty of life.

Her eyes unable to throw her invisible web of accusing gaze.


The woman in the attic peels off her own skin.

Echoing from her chest, the storytelling heart, beating faster and faster.

She pulls down her beloved, true cover

And it falls gently on its again beautiful master.


Through the open window, out she flies

Flapping her wings in mad happiness.

For a moment she looks down on the prison she´s inhabited before

And screams against the wind : I´m the Raven Lady , forever and ever will be,

and my body and soul, my whole existence, shall be locked…nevermore.”