Young Writers Society

His heart raced and pounded in his head as he ran. He shoved the branches out of his way, unaware of the sharp barbs scratching his arms and face. His breathing came fiercely as all thought was consumed with finding her. The darkness coated the trees in a dark blanket. The only way his eyes continued to find shapes in the abstract dark was the pearly beacon of the moon.

The panic rose, trying to quench every intelligent thought; he struggled to keep the panic down, to think clearly. Frantic action would not help her. He needed to think. His body shivered with cold, exertion and exhaustion. He pounded his feet into the ground so hard his bones jarred with every step.

The silver moonlight caught upon a shape more regular and bright then the abstruse tone of the forest. He stopped, haltingly suddenly frozen with terror. What if’s flooded his mind, each image worse than the previous. He no longer felt the presence of his limbs. The sprinting of his heart and breath could no longer be felt. The only thing in existence was the shape, pure and truer than any of the surrounding thicket.

The silence of the woodland was suddenly pressing down on him. Every breath was a struggle. Every movement was painful. Still focused on the shape he stepped slowly forward, praying with every fiber of his being that it wasn’t her. That he wouldn’t find her, that she would be safe inside her bed and this all would be for naught.

With every slow step the shape grew clearer and his denial weakened. When the final step of recognition was taken, it was accompanied by gasping as he tried to hold the tears from flooding his vision. Blinking to renew clarity to his sight, he bent down, kneeling on the cold foliage underneath a canopy of stars and timber.

He looked at the stone cold face of his love. Her eyes taunted him from the bottom of a lifeless abyss, holding echoes of her warmth and life. Her sunken gray skin accentuated her sharp cheekbones. Her lush lips were devoid of the precious pink they always beheld. Her barren hair held no shine or bounce; it was flung haphazardly, framing her still beautiful face. A halo.

The only color other than her white skin in the moonlight was the scarlet stain of blood. It soaked her clothes and surrounded her lifeless body. It clung to his hands when he touched her. The sharp, intense colors attacked his eyes and every drop was torture for him. The scarlet reminder of his love’s life was dripping all around him. The flaming liquid covered her graceful neck and chest, but her face was completely bare of the invasive liquid. As if it dared not to touch the peace.

The soft ivory light from the moon bounced off the ring on her left hand, turned the color of wine. Memories danced through his mind, a dagger to his heart followed each one. He remembered the look in her eyes when they first met, the confidence and the wild energy and strength. Memories of her creating music and the feeling of total completion and perfection that he had every time he looked at her. Memories of the night they had beheld and also lost their only child. Memories of laughter and love. He remembered the day that he put the delicate ring on her delicate finger; her face, that day, was full of joy. She was an image of grace and elegance in her silken white gown, now she was draped in crimson.

Each memory intensified a longing in him. He longed for her fingers to twitch, for her to smile and say she was all right. He longed with his whole heart for her love and joy. He longed for her with an intensity that caused pain in every breath and every heartbeat. Every moment of this pain she lay before him; a silent ghost

He closed his eyes blocking out the image of her pale sunken face and turned to images of the past: kisses shared, late nights with hot cocoa and tears that they had shared over their lost child. These images and memories began to be poisoned by the grotesque image in front of him; it invaded every smile and every laugh. Her ashen skin and her empty glass eyes infected every joy. Every memory that was stolen awoke new agony inside of him.

Turning back to her, he grasped her fingers. They were icy with the absence of her soul. He wanted so deeply for her hands to again move inside his.

Finally, his tired eyes that had struggled to hold the tears surrendered. The cold liquid spilled silently over his cheeks and down his chin. He blinked as they clung to his lashes. A single iridescent tear landed on her cheek. He touched the diamond drop and wished it to breath life into her. He gently lifted her fingers to his trembling lips; the day’s worth of stubble scratched her fragile skin.

He looked at her face trying to see the vivid spirit he knew, though she had long fled from the cold body. He touched the gentle curve of her lips that had spoken so many words, the gentle words of a mother and a lover. He bent down and kissed her chalky lips for the final time. Leaving his face close to hers he closed her eyes as tears continued to rain on her lifeless skin.

For a moment his heart felt her grasping at him. For a second he thought he felt her struggle against the darkness to come back to him. He could feel her heart screaming in agony to leave him behind. As she drifted farther and farther into the bitter dark he reached for her, but was left with empty hands.

His heart cried for her.

He put his shaking hand on her chest above her cold heart, feeling his breaking inside of him. He ached as his entire being was hallowed out, leaving an empty shell. When she had descended into the darkness of the abyss she had taken him with her. There was no life without her. Her heart had completed his, they had leaned on each other so long that without her smile he crumbled. His heart could not bear life without hers.

Inside of his agony he felt her, very gently, reach to him. His sighed in ecstasy as he briefly felt the warmth of her smile, and felt the power of her love, but just as suddenly it vanished as if smoke in the wind, agony returned, and he wondered if it could have been a dream.

He folded her hands, forever praying, on her chest and stood with shaking limbs. Every step he took away from what was left of her he grew icy and cold inside. Leaving all happiness with her. He walked away from her, and left himself behind.