Disclaimer: 9 belongs to Shane Acker (lucky guy) and the poem, Love lives beyond the tomb belongs to John Clare.
This was a collaboration between myself, (Crazyartist6,) and Tora Marikama (read her stories. They're awesome. But not until you've read this one first!) we did it because…
Because we wanted to try something different.
My lines are in bold, mine normal, and the poem is in italics.
Enjoy!
Enjoy!
He fiddled nervously with the flower,
each petal fluttering down.
The other's would scold him,
but he cared not because
he was filled with love.
It was love in vain though,
love that could never be.
The one that he cared for so much
would never hear sweet words of endearment,
for the fingers that strangled the flower
were green and untouchable.
And only the faint breeze could
flicker the petals for him.
But for once, he was going to step out of his corner.
Be brave.
Ignore One.
And what could the former leader do to him now?
His pictures were already destroyed. He... he was freaking dead!
He waited by the grave markers, waited for the being of his love.
Love lives beyond the tomb,
And earth, which fades like dew!
I love the fond,
The faithful, and the true.
Only in dreams could they touch.
Only in dreams could they be.
So he slipped into the realm of dreams.
His beloved would weep into arms that could hold,
And he would weep too,
with metal eyes that can't tear.
But he knew,
He knew their happiness would end
When the sun broke the realm
And he would be forced out,
Separated from the living.
So he never spoke a word.
He never said those words.
Because only in dreams could they be.
If only they could be.
The spirit surveyed the miserable land, feeling lonely. When would she arrive?
The ground around the graves was still just dirt, mostly. There were a few green spots here and there, but nothing extraordinary.
Love lives in sleep:
'Tis happiness of healthy dreams:
Eve's dews may weep,
But love delightful seems.
For one without a heart,
love came so easily.
and he would wait at his mark
for the right time,
for the right words,
for the one he adored so much.
If only they could be...
As it was still early in the morning, a damp fog hung over everything, looking a lot cleaner and healthier than the thick smog that had existed only weeks before. The ground was packed down, with lots of crisscrossing footprints.
Over the weeks, all four of the survivors had visited the graves without the others knowing, and had left the evidence. The fog was starting to clear, and the spirit could see the black sky liberally sprinkled with stars beginning to fade to blue.
If only....
'Tis seen in flowers,
And in the morning's pearly dew;
In earth's green hours,
And in the heaven's eternal blue.
But how long until the right time?
How long would he have to wait?
Until the earth was blanketed in green,
Until the furred and feathered beasts returned,
Until all souls were free?
How long was an eternity,
and could such a fragile thing as love
survive so long unkindled?
There were sounds, too. Creaking metal, rafters falling, rotting wood no longer able to support their own weight. Once, an entire house fell apart nearby.
Now the sun was beginning to rise, the beams reaching out to embrace the ruins, turn them gold. For a few seconds, the spirit almost believed it.
Suddenly, a new sound came on the wind. A voice spoke, then another laughed. the sources of the sound were still too far away to make out what they were saying, but it was common sense that told the spirit who they were. And with them, undoubtedly, would be his love...
'Tis heard in Spring
When light and sunbeams, warm and kind,
On angel's wing
Bring love and music to the mind.
Yet the soul knows.
even those born from the ashes of a fallen world,
know something so true and pure
can never truly die.
So if now was not the time,
if these were not the right words,
then he would wait,
he would wait until the earth stopped turning.
The voices were getting closer. The spirit peered through the mist and saw them... saw her. But suddenly, he became nervous. What would the others say? What if he did something wrong?
The survivors caught sight of him, and stopped in surprise. When the souls had been released, they had believed that to be the last time they'd see their deceased friends.
Six stepped back, preparing himself to fade away and return to the others, but the eyes of his living brethren begged him to stay. This was a bad idea. He couldn't even speak here, in the land of the living, much less reveal what his proverbial heart had been telling him all along.
But to his surprise, 4 stepped forward and….
And where's the voice,
So young, so beautiful, and sweet
As Nature's choice,
Where Spring and lovers meet?
Lips that could never meet met,
Worlds that could never touch, touched,
Words that were never needed were heard--
6 couldn't feel it, but the love was there. That, he could feel. It flow through him, warm and reviving like the rays of the sun that could never touch him.
He didn't regret for a minute that it wouldn't last---
Because—
Because….
Love lives beyond the tomb
So, yeah. That's the story, folks. For those of you who have read my profile and are now wondering "what? Why are you writing a pairing when you said you dislike pairings?"
The answer is: I said most pairings. I dislike the ones that tend to have lemon writers in their service. (cough9X5cough)
Please R&R!