Author Note: Wow, it's been a long time since I uploaded anything here. This isn't exactly a new story; it's a rewrite of my story 'Come Away With Me.' I chose to rewrite it as an exercise to see if I could make it better (or worse, depending) and to see if my writing style has changed in the last... 5 years. It's not very good, but then, neither was the original. Regardless, here it is, remixed for 2010, with a different song that I thinks just fits better with the tone.
Disclaimer:I own neither 'The Crow' or the song 'Into Dust' by Mazzy Star.
Into Dust
Though the apartment was darkened, he could still make out the peeling, faded paint on the walls. He didn't need light to know every little nuance and detail of this room, from either before his apparent death or now. Before, when it had been freshly painted ruby red and he'd come home to see her balancing precariously on top of the ladder, surveying her handiwork. He hadn't cared much for her choice of colour then.
Still falling,
Breathless and on again.
"My apartment, my rules, my paint!"
"Your rules, huh?"
He'd grabbed the nearest paintbrush and before she could run for cover, her already paint-spattered overalls were plastered with one long, thick streak of crimson. He'd chuckled as she'd held her arms out, inspecting the damage with a look of utter disbelief. Her delicate brow had furrowed in annoyance as she'd slowly glanced up.
"That was mean," she'd pouted, and he'd grinned at the fact that even when she was angry, she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.
Inside today,
Beside me today.
A tender smile curved his lips as he recalled that day. God, he missed her. This duty charged to him by the crow was taking longer than he thought. All he wanted was to be with her, at peace, forever. The rain outside tapped against the broken window, drawing his attention and stirring up the memory of the day they'd found the apartment. She'd marvelled at the beauty of the loft and talked about its potential, which he'd happily agreed with. Anything for her, anything as long as she smiled that heart-breaking smile.
A round broken in two,
'Til your eyes shed into dust,
Like two strangers turning into dust,
'Til my hand shook with the way I fear.
He traced a falling raindrop down the glass with his fingertip until it met a sharp edge. He felt the sting of the cut but did not flinch, even as the scarlet blood welled forth and dripped once to the floor, before his impossible gift closed the wound perfectly. The window was no longer glorious; it was tainted and broken with the violence and blood lust of those who had intruded that fateful night. Those who he now sought for revenge.
I could possibly be fading,
Or have something more to gain.
With a shake of his head, he tried to diminish those thoughts. Not here, not now; this place was sacred to her memory. He would not defile it with thoughts of death. Instead, he turned to her old dresser and opened the top drawer. He rifled through it until he found his old snapshots of her, and one in particular brought that fragile smile back to his lips. They'd driven all day to find the secluded beach, and she'd danced across the sand in her white dress, ethereal in her loveliness. He'd taken several photos of her.
"I'll send them to Playboy, I think," he'd joked, and gasped with laughter as she'd pounced, attempting to wrestle the camera from him. Later they'd watched the sunset from the bonnet of their car, where they'd laid, entwined, exchanging soft kisses in the dwindling light. As he'd driven home, he couldn't help glancing at her sleeping form and the gentle curve of her mouth in its ever-present smile. He was the luckiest man alive.
I could feel myself growing colder,
I could feel myself under your fate,
Under your fate.
He gathered up the photos and also reached for the bridal magazine he had previously pushed aside. Another memory came to him, this one from two weeks after he'd proposed to her.
"Halloween," she had stated simply. He'd looked up and saw nothing but excitement radiating from her gaze.
"Halloween?" he'd repeated, confused. She'd nodded eagerly.
"That's when we're gonna get married!"
"On Halloween?" he'd questioned. She'd rolled her eyes at his scepticism.
"It's perfect! Who else gets married on Halloween?"
"Crazy people?" he'd ventured and was rewarded for his sarcasm with a look of disdain.
"I'm being serious, Eric."
He'd pretended to deliberate his answer, even though inwardly he had already agreed from the moment she'd suggested it. "You know, Halloween weddings are very rock and roll."
And she'd smiled that dazzling smile as she'd rushed over and thrown her arms around his neck, and kissed him again and again.
It was you breathless and tall,
I could feel my eyes turning into dust,
And two strangers turning into dust,
Turning into dust.
A single tear rolled down his cheek. They had never lived to see their wedding. His whole world had come crashing down and been obliterated in one single night. His anger returned, though muted through his grief. He gathered all the photos together and looked at them briefly one more time before he crouched down and threw them into the fire. Out of his pocket he pulled a small gold ring and went to cast that into fire as well, but he paused. His last physical reminder of her. The single gold band that had promised them eternity and that had meant so much to her and to him as well. Could he really give it up?
He held the ring tightly in his hand as he sank to the floor.
He closed his eyes and pictured her reaching out to him.
Barely moving his lips, he murmured her name.
"Shelly…"