When the Rose Falls
The silver moonlight silhouetted the tower as a lone figure gazed at it absently from a plush-lined chair. He gripped the arm white-knuckled. An observer would notice how the moonlight shimmered off his long white hair, giving the figure an aura of enchantment and other-worldliness in the fey darkness. To add to the eeriness of this scene, a few rays glinted off something gold where a left eye would normally be.
The urbane individual frowned. What troubled him into this agonized vigil was not what was hidden in that tower. No, that was an old wound, and that acute pain he had grown accustomed to. That pain was tinged with a desperate, groping hope. He would soon reverse those cruel events whose echoes clouded his heart and mind, shadowed his thoughts, bound his feeling, pained his actions, ate away at his soul, was an ever-present madness threatening to envelope him, to knock him from his precarious position of sanity... Calm! The late hour was affecting him. He diverted his mind from that path. Soon that would be taken care of.
No, it was not that which now prevented sleep. It was the fact that he could not remember anything that had happened in the past hours. It was all blank, a dark voice in the consciousness, leaving only a vague feeling of something crucial and dangerous and disturbing.
Whatever he had done, it had exhausted every aching muscle, and as he stared at the tower he began to slip past the pounding in his head and into blackness...
... The bright sun streamed majestically through the trees. Birds sang their angel-tunes. The air was fresh and the lush grass swayed in a gentle wind.
Pegasus savored this day. He soaked in the beauty and peace, but as heavenly as the day was, it was not that which lightened his heart. It was the enchanting damsel who walked beside him, her golden hair blowing in the breeze and her ruby eyes dancing as she touched his arm with slender fingers. The contact was magic and brought a smile to his face.
"Look, Maximillion, roses!"
Indeed, there was a rose garden next to a shimmering little lake. They were in full bloom, arranged in a sweeping pattern of red, white, and yellow.
He hesitated briefly, wondering if they were private property, but at the look of delight on Cecilia's face he gingerly plucked one of the finest off the ground, careful not to make a fool of himself by sticking his finger or bending the stem too much. He presented it dramatically to his angel-girl Cecilia.
"To my love, with hopes for a wedding day tomorrow as beautiful as you are."
Delighted, she accepted the rose and kissed him lightly on cheek. He took her hand, and was startled to find that it felt cold.
"Are you feeling all right?" he asked worriedly.
"I-" she stumbled into his arms. The rose fell to the ground. For a moment his heart wrenched, as he feared something might be seriously wrong. He held her limp form close, hardly daring to breathe.
Then, after that forever-long moment, she stirred and regained her feet. She blinked a few times and pushed her hair back.
"Are you okay?" he asked again.
"I- I'm fine. It must be the sun." She smiled, and he felt a little better. Yes, the sun. They had been walking all day. In the back of his mind, however, he knew that it was not the first time that this had happened.
He bent to pick up the fallen rose. Its crimson petals had creased...
... The orchestra picked up a lively waltz, and Pegasus swept his lovely new wife out on the floor, the newlyweds laughing together over the diamond-perfection of the day. Her long white wedding gown swept the marble gracefully. Their steps were perfectly is sync as they danced through heaven. Pegasus knew he had never been happier in his life. The very air of the ballroom sparkled. Cecilia's crimson eyes lit the room brighter than the chandeliers. Bliss stole the breath from their lungs, but who needs worldly strength in Heaven?
They swept around the room, between the other guests, as if on air: one-two-three, one-two-three...
Suddenly Cecilia's hands felt very cold. She seemed to lean on him more heavily. He pulled her closer, felt her shallow breath on his neck.
"Let's rest a little," she murmured in his ear. He wrapped an arm around her waist and led her off.
She stopped abruptly and fell into a fit of coughing. Pegasus let her lean her full weight on him as her body convulsed. He felt sick. The others in the room stared in slight alarm.
Finally the terrible coughs had died down, and Cecilia grabbed Pegasus right hand tightly.
"Come," he said gently, "You must rest."
As he led her out of the room she bumped the corner of a table. A crystal vase containing a single red rose fell to the ground and shattered into a million pieces.
They had barely left the room when Cecilia swayed and fell in his arms in a dead faint. He lowered her to the marble and gathered her limp form into his arms as he knelt with fear gripping his heart.
Guests came, whispering, their hushed voices falling on his ears as if through gauze. Desperately he pressed his eyelids together and tried to wake from this nightmare, but he could not. He wanted to lift his beloved and carry her to someplace soft, and quiet, with flowers and beauty, and kiss her gently awake and have her say that she was okay... but his limbs would not stop trembling.
Her hand felt strange. He looked at his right palm, where she had gripped it. It was smeared with blood.
He suddenly realized a doctor looked over his shoulder. He gave the man an imploring look, but the doctor just stood, pale, fearful.
"Leave us, Pegasus said, his fear sounding like anger. The man fled.
Pegasus knew this doctor, one of the best. If that man was afraid...
He could deny it no longer. His dear, sweet, charming wife was in serious danger. He hugged his fallen beloved close to his aching heart. Fear welled up and spilled out as tears, streaming unchecked down his face. The anguished minutes passed...
...There was a hand on his shoulder.
"Master Pegasus," came a soft voice aimed at anonymity and gushing sympathy.
His head was buried in his hand, damp from tears, his silver hair tangled in his fingers. Go away. I don't want to hear it. Just leave me be.
"What do you want now?" he choked.
"It- it won't be long now."
Of course it wouldn't. Nothing was. It was all so short. A single week he had had with his love. A week! How could fate pull such a cruel trick? No, it wouldn't be long now. Wouldn't be long until his beloved would be gone, until his heart would be ripped, until his life would be shattered, until the most beautiful, wonderful being to ever walk the earth would be torn from it- forever.
He forced himself to leave the chair and cross the night-darkened room to the large bed around which doctors hovered and a thin, pale figure lay.
He knelt by her and took her hands. Cold. Cold as purest ice carved from an enchanted mountain. Cold as death.
"Maximillion," she whispered.
"Love," he choked. Tears the thought had long been dry sprang to his eyes.
"I... love you."
"And I you, angel," he murmured. "And I will forever, whether you are a part of this world or you are gracing eternity with your spirit." She looked so frail, oh, so frail and beautiful, like a petal on the wind, a china cup teetering on the edge of the dark abyss of eternity.
"Oh my love, my angel," he murmured as her ruby eyes traced the bitter path of a tear down his cheek. "If it could be so, I would drain every drop from my veins to craft a pair of wings for you, so you could fly upward to Heaven, without pain. There we would be reunited amongst the glory of the angels, from where you first were sent, my love. I would... I would release my soul from my body, wrap you in my undying love..." He could not continue.
Pain glazed her jeweled eyes. Not simply physical, but soul-deep, a worry for him.
"Live... love."
Panic grabbed him again. Soon she would be gone... forever...
"Yes, I will live, my sweet Cecilia, I will live for you, in your memory. I will bring you back," he whispered suddenly, driven by desperate need to grab on to some hope and a desperate longing to keep her here, with him, to hold on to sanity.
She seemed startled at this. "Maximillion... don't... grasp at the wind..."
"Shhh, love, don't talk. I know it sounds insane and foolish, but there must be a way. I will find a way."
"Promise..."
"Anything, my sweet."
"Promise you won't forget me... us..."
"Never."
She gave the tiniest butterfly-smile, and with a sigh like an angel she was gone, bound for some unknown, unreachable world- he would not let himself think that she was bound for darkness.
The broken Pegasus set down her hand and stared in torment, loath to look away from her perfect face. One of the doctors with a poet's soul lay a blood-red rose under her snow-white hand, across her chest. Then the full force of events came down on the widower like a smothering wave, and he fled the room...
...Tears of blood were spattered across the flaming sky of sunset. Wind tousled his silver hair as the young man in black stood, a forlorn silhouette against fiery fate, beside the desolate open grave. He held in his hand a crimson rose. His brown eyes stared stolidly at the gaping hole in the ground, all emotions gone but numbness. Gone, gone, gone forever... No. It couldn't be. They would be reunited, even if he must wait until his own death. He would not forget her, his love, his life. There was blood on his fingers. He had been gripping the rose too hard. Fine. If I have no tears left, let my veins weep for sweet Cecilia. Here, love, a parting gift. Until we meet again.
He held the rose over the grave and let it fall, watching it until it was swallowed by the shadows...
...Pegasus awoke with a start. Dawn was painting the sky for the final duel today. A smile curved his lips. Soon he would have the Puzzle. He would have enough power to bring back his lost love!
He stood up and automatically put his hand to his head. The area behind where his left eye should have been felt like fire. That was not good, he had to be his best for the duel today. With this blinding pain and the events of the previous night... But he would win. He had to win. To win! To win back his love! His love, his love, his sweet love! Soon, soon...
He went to summon Croquet. He could almost taste victory. With this cursèd golden eye, he could not lose. Yes, today would be the day where he righted cruel fate's wrongs...
Outside the tower, a single wilting rose stood grieving its demise. Its last crimson petal, hanging from but a single thread, swayed precariously in the quickening wind...
The silver moonlight silhouetted the tower as a lone figure gazed at it absently from a plush-lined chair. He gripped the arm white-knuckled. An observer would notice how the moonlight shimmered off his long white hair, giving the figure an aura of enchantment and other-worldliness in the fey darkness. To add to the eeriness of this scene, a few rays glinted off something gold where a left eye would normally be.
The urbane individual frowned. What troubled him into this agonized vigil was not what was hidden in that tower. No, that was an old wound, and that acute pain he had grown accustomed to. That pain was tinged with a desperate, groping hope. He would soon reverse those cruel events whose echoes clouded his heart and mind, shadowed his thoughts, bound his feeling, pained his actions, ate away at his soul, was an ever-present madness threatening to envelope him, to knock him from his precarious position of sanity... Calm! The late hour was affecting him. He diverted his mind from that path. Soon that would be taken care of.
No, it was not that which now prevented sleep. It was the fact that he could not remember anything that had happened in the past hours. It was all blank, a dark voice in the consciousness, leaving only a vague feeling of something crucial and dangerous and disturbing.
Whatever he had done, it had exhausted every aching muscle, and as he stared at the tower he began to slip past the pounding in his head and into blackness...
... The bright sun streamed majestically through the trees. Birds sang their angel-tunes. The air was fresh and the lush grass swayed in a gentle wind.
Pegasus savored this day. He soaked in the beauty and peace, but as heavenly as the day was, it was not that which lightened his heart. It was the enchanting damsel who walked beside him, her golden hair blowing in the breeze and her ruby eyes dancing as she touched his arm with slender fingers. The contact was magic and brought a smile to his face.
"Look, Maximillion, roses!"
Indeed, there was a rose garden next to a shimmering little lake. They were in full bloom, arranged in a sweeping pattern of red, white, and yellow.
He hesitated briefly, wondering if they were private property, but at the look of delight on Cecilia's face he gingerly plucked one of the finest off the ground, careful not to make a fool of himself by sticking his finger or bending the stem too much. He presented it dramatically to his angel-girl Cecilia.
"To my love, with hopes for a wedding day tomorrow as beautiful as you are."
Delighted, she accepted the rose and kissed him lightly on cheek. He took her hand, and was startled to find that it felt cold.
"Are you feeling all right?" he asked worriedly.
"I-" she stumbled into his arms. The rose fell to the ground. For a moment his heart wrenched, as he feared something might be seriously wrong. He held her limp form close, hardly daring to breathe.
Then, after that forever-long moment, she stirred and regained her feet. She blinked a few times and pushed her hair back.
"Are you okay?" he asked again.
"I- I'm fine. It must be the sun." She smiled, and he felt a little better. Yes, the sun. They had been walking all day. In the back of his mind, however, he knew that it was not the first time that this had happened.
He bent to pick up the fallen rose. Its crimson petals had creased...
... The orchestra picked up a lively waltz, and Pegasus swept his lovely new wife out on the floor, the newlyweds laughing together over the diamond-perfection of the day. Her long white wedding gown swept the marble gracefully. Their steps were perfectly is sync as they danced through heaven. Pegasus knew he had never been happier in his life. The very air of the ballroom sparkled. Cecilia's crimson eyes lit the room brighter than the chandeliers. Bliss stole the breath from their lungs, but who needs worldly strength in Heaven?
They swept around the room, between the other guests, as if on air: one-two-three, one-two-three...
Suddenly Cecilia's hands felt very cold. She seemed to lean on him more heavily. He pulled her closer, felt her shallow breath on his neck.
"Let's rest a little," she murmured in his ear. He wrapped an arm around her waist and led her off.
She stopped abruptly and fell into a fit of coughing. Pegasus let her lean her full weight on him as her body convulsed. He felt sick. The others in the room stared in slight alarm.
Finally the terrible coughs had died down, and Cecilia grabbed Pegasus right hand tightly.
"Come," he said gently, "You must rest."
As he led her out of the room she bumped the corner of a table. A crystal vase containing a single red rose fell to the ground and shattered into a million pieces.
They had barely left the room when Cecilia swayed and fell in his arms in a dead faint. He lowered her to the marble and gathered her limp form into his arms as he knelt with fear gripping his heart.
Guests came, whispering, their hushed voices falling on his ears as if through gauze. Desperately he pressed his eyelids together and tried to wake from this nightmare, but he could not. He wanted to lift his beloved and carry her to someplace soft, and quiet, with flowers and beauty, and kiss her gently awake and have her say that she was okay... but his limbs would not stop trembling.
Her hand felt strange. He looked at his right palm, where she had gripped it. It was smeared with blood.
He suddenly realized a doctor looked over his shoulder. He gave the man an imploring look, but the doctor just stood, pale, fearful.
"Leave us, Pegasus said, his fear sounding like anger. The man fled.
Pegasus knew this doctor, one of the best. If that man was afraid...
He could deny it no longer. His dear, sweet, charming wife was in serious danger. He hugged his fallen beloved close to his aching heart. Fear welled up and spilled out as tears, streaming unchecked down his face. The anguished minutes passed...
...There was a hand on his shoulder.
"Master Pegasus," came a soft voice aimed at anonymity and gushing sympathy.
His head was buried in his hand, damp from tears, his silver hair tangled in his fingers. Go away. I don't want to hear it. Just leave me be.
"What do you want now?" he choked.
"It- it won't be long now."
Of course it wouldn't. Nothing was. It was all so short. A single week he had had with his love. A week! How could fate pull such a cruel trick? No, it wouldn't be long now. Wouldn't be long until his beloved would be gone, until his heart would be ripped, until his life would be shattered, until the most beautiful, wonderful being to ever walk the earth would be torn from it- forever.
He forced himself to leave the chair and cross the night-darkened room to the large bed around which doctors hovered and a thin, pale figure lay.
He knelt by her and took her hands. Cold. Cold as purest ice carved from an enchanted mountain. Cold as death.
"Maximillion," she whispered.
"Love," he choked. Tears the thought had long been dry sprang to his eyes.
"I... love you."
"And I you, angel," he murmured. "And I will forever, whether you are a part of this world or you are gracing eternity with your spirit." She looked so frail, oh, so frail and beautiful, like a petal on the wind, a china cup teetering on the edge of the dark abyss of eternity.
"Oh my love, my angel," he murmured as her ruby eyes traced the bitter path of a tear down his cheek. "If it could be so, I would drain every drop from my veins to craft a pair of wings for you, so you could fly upward to Heaven, without pain. There we would be reunited amongst the glory of the angels, from where you first were sent, my love. I would... I would release my soul from my body, wrap you in my undying love..." He could not continue.
Pain glazed her jeweled eyes. Not simply physical, but soul-deep, a worry for him.
"Live... love."
Panic grabbed him again. Soon she would be gone... forever...
"Yes, I will live, my sweet Cecilia, I will live for you, in your memory. I will bring you back," he whispered suddenly, driven by desperate need to grab on to some hope and a desperate longing to keep her here, with him, to hold on to sanity.
She seemed startled at this. "Maximillion... don't... grasp at the wind..."
"Shhh, love, don't talk. I know it sounds insane and foolish, but there must be a way. I will find a way."
"Promise..."
"Anything, my sweet."
"Promise you won't forget me... us..."
"Never."
She gave the tiniest butterfly-smile, and with a sigh like an angel she was gone, bound for some unknown, unreachable world- he would not let himself think that she was bound for darkness.
The broken Pegasus set down her hand and stared in torment, loath to look away from her perfect face. One of the doctors with a poet's soul lay a blood-red rose under her snow-white hand, across her chest. Then the full force of events came down on the widower like a smothering wave, and he fled the room...
...Tears of blood were spattered across the flaming sky of sunset. Wind tousled his silver hair as the young man in black stood, a forlorn silhouette against fiery fate, beside the desolate open grave. He held in his hand a crimson rose. His brown eyes stared stolidly at the gaping hole in the ground, all emotions gone but numbness. Gone, gone, gone forever... No. It couldn't be. They would be reunited, even if he must wait until his own death. He would not forget her, his love, his life. There was blood on his fingers. He had been gripping the rose too hard. Fine. If I have no tears left, let my veins weep for sweet Cecilia. Here, love, a parting gift. Until we meet again.
He held the rose over the grave and let it fall, watching it until it was swallowed by the shadows...
...Pegasus awoke with a start. Dawn was painting the sky for the final duel today. A smile curved his lips. Soon he would have the Puzzle. He would have enough power to bring back his lost love!
He stood up and automatically put his hand to his head. The area behind where his left eye should have been felt like fire. That was not good, he had to be his best for the duel today. With this blinding pain and the events of the previous night... But he would win. He had to win. To win! To win back his love! His love, his love, his sweet love! Soon, soon...
He went to summon Croquet. He could almost taste victory. With this cursèd golden eye, he could not lose. Yes, today would be the day where he righted cruel fate's wrongs...
Outside the tower, a single wilting rose stood grieving its demise. Its last crimson petal, hanging from but a single thread, swayed precariously in the quickening wind...