Tears
By Dark Poltergeist
Tears
She hadn't meant to cry, really she hadn't. But weighed down by the intensity of her emotions, she was unable to prevent the tears that trailed down her face. Even as she squeezed her eyes shut she felt them escape as she sought to control the turmoil of her emotions.
She stared down at the marker that had been placed in the earth so long ago, the marker worn by the elements of wind and water, until the writing, now worn with the passage of time was starting to fade into the stone. The name on the stone was that of Captain Daniel Gregg, a brief statement about him, and the dates of his all too short life. Not nearly enough to tell anyone about the incredible man she never knew during his life time.
He was the most amazing man that had turned into a most amazing spirit, and she was both blessed and cursed to have him in her life.
It was clichéd but he was suave, debonair, and positively oozed charm. To her eyes he was handsome beyond words, and though it was not possible to be with him in the way she wanted to, she longed for him in ways that she had never wanted a man before. He exuded his masculinity like the salt of the sea air that rolled off the ocean. Both were inevitable and both totally natural states of being.
But God she wanted him. Something she only admitted when she was unable to lie to herself anymore, and usually when she was feeling melancholy as she was now. It was even harder to admit to that she had fallen in love with the ghost of a man who had died well over one hundred years ago.
It was unfair beyond measure and she alternated between being mad at herself for having come to such a state of being and mad at the fates for having put her in this position. She stared at the grave before her, the simple marker that was worn with age. How could she feel such sadness for a man that had died so long ago? What possible good could come out of being in love with a ghost?
She bent down and set the bouquet of colorful wildflowers on the grave next to the worn facade and sighed, closing her eyes to indulge in her own private fantasy. She imagined that he was in her time period, alive and healthy, and that they were a couple. They would walk hand in hand in town, hug and scandalize the small community by kissing each other very thoroughly in public. Then they would retreat to Gull Cottage with the children that they would dutifully tuck into bed, and once they were settled and the house was quiet they would retreat to the master bedroom.
There they would gently, or roughly, depending on their mood, mold their bodies to one another. He would touch her in a way she had allowed no other man to do, and he would allow her the same pleasurable liberties. Then they would explore one another, enjoying the simple closeness as much as the physical intimacies that they reveled in together. And content, they would sleep as she nestled against his chest and heard the lovely sound that was the regular beat of his heart.
A sigh escaped her as she allowed herself that fantasy, knowing it was one that would never come true, knowing that nothing could make it come true.
Life without him now was unacceptable, but she could never have a life with him either. Sometimes she hated him and herself for the feelings they had for one another, but even with that she knew she wouldn't change a thing and that she was fortunate to have him around at all. But with that was the knowledge that he had spoiled her for any other man, there could be no one else, for no one else could ever measure up to him. It was a sweet but bitter pill that she had to swallow time and time again as her life continued to move on and he remained a part of it.
"Oh, Daniel," her fingers gently running over what was left of his name, now fading on the stone marker. "The life we would have had," she whispered and began to cry in earnest.
The ghost stood a short distance away, invisible to all as he watched the love of his life cry at his graveside. He could guess why she was there and felt responsible for her pain, and though he knew he was selfish, he could not bear to leave her or Gull Cottage, his home. She had already threatened the existence of his afterlife if he voiced such a thought again.
He thought she had settled the conflict within herself regarding the status of their relationship, but that was clearly not the case. He watched her with sad eyes and unable to help himself, he appeared beside her and waited for her to acknowledge his presence.
After a few long moments, she looked up at him and he saw how her shoulders shook with the pain of her grief, and he opened his arms to her.
She knew she couldn't feel him, not really, but when he allowed this there was a sense of sharing the same space, occupying the same exact area for a short time, it was if they were somehow joined as he wrapped his spirit essence around her physical one.
"Please, Carolyn, no more tears, I cannot bear it," he murmured in her ear and she shook all the harder because she felt comforted within the lightness of his ghostly embrace.
At last, when she had cried herself out he touched his fingertips to her face and gently wiped away her tears.
"It feels like a soft caress," she said, and looked into his clear blue eyes, realizing that they were filled with tears as well. She reached across and wiped away the stray tear running down his illusionary cheek.
"It does feel like a soft caress," he murmured.
"Why can we feel our tears?" She rubbed her fingertips together, feeling raw from the strength of her emotions.
"Because they are real. Probably as real as anything will be between us, my love."
Their shared look was one of love, passion, and the dream of a life together, something that endlessly occupied their thoughts with gladness and pain. A hurtful love because of the injustice of circumstances that would always separate them, a love that would only allow them to share one thing.
Tears.