The Death of a Dream
Music: "Requiem on Frankfort Avenue" by Eluvium
As her fingers curve around the bowstring, he remembers how soft her skin was.
As her grip tightens on the bow, he remembers the feel of her hands curling around his shirt. He thought then that they'd found something happy in the middle of a war.
As he watches her shoulders flex to pull back the string, he remembers how she felt in his arms. He always held on longer than he should have.
As the bowstring brushes her chin, he remembers kissing her. He wonders now if it was all a dream.
As her left eye slips closed to aim, he releases a defeated sigh.
He knows she is aiming too high.
But her aim was always impeccable.
She never misses.
His eyes slip close when he hears her release the string.
He remembers her in the fields outside twelve, with the sun barely kissing her skin through the leaves. He had placed a flower in her hair once while a squirrel distracted her. She went for hours not realizing it was there.
They seemed so young then.
He hears the crowd gasp in shock, and he remembers the whipping.
He opens his eyes as a tear escapes down his cheek. The lashing that she had taken for him had been the most painful one.
He had thought then that she had loved him.
He watches her reach for the hidden pill, and he turns his back on her.
He knows that Catnip is truly gone.
And with her, he as well.
