she's got a smile
sweet child o' mine (cover) –taken by trees
-:-
She's got a smile that it seems to me
Reminds me of childhood memories
When everything was as bright as the bluest sky
The funeral is short and sweet (and to the point,) people come in through those ivory carved wooden doors, heads bowed, dressed in simple black, eyes watery, red, and puffy, they carried boxes of Kleenex, gripping each other like it was nobody's business, heaving racks of sobs from their small/big frames, they wept openly in public's eyes (for once ignoring the paparazzi who swarmed with solemn expressions permanently etched on their greedy faces, cameras subtly hidden behind their backs).
She keeps a particular plastered stoic look on her face though, of pale and blemish free skin, cherry stained lips pursed, Chanel glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, waves of chocolate curls messily (yet) simple pony-tail, and a yellow dress. The sun dancing in the night sky, the stars bewildered, the moon upstaged, the planets crashing into each other with looks of shame written along their bruised wrinkles.
"Oh Massie," Merri-Lee Marvil breaks down when she sees her, tears grabbing ahold of her. "It's just so unfair."
The brunette nods, glasses pressed closer to her face, patting Merri-Lee's back. Her mother let's go of Massie's body, kisses her cheek, and points her towards the blonde girl standing in line greeting incomers.
"Mass," she breathes, tiffany blue robin colored eyes, sparkling with unshed tears, tinted red lips trembling.
"C'mere." The amber-eyed girl says.
The embrace is long, tight and heartfelt. Massie strokes Claire's white-blond hair, planning never to let go. The bystanders do their best not to stare out of curiosity, choosing instead to look down at their cupped hands, fearing of the future and hoping for the better.
"I'm here," Massie whispers in Claire's pearl studded ear, pulling away from their embrace. At a loss for words, the blonde nods, closes her eyes for a moment of composure and gestures to the rest of their tight knit group who are already sitting at a table with untouched food and blank stares permanently marked on their flawless faces.
"C'mon,"
The two glide over towards the white clothed table. Left…right…left…right…
Josh Hotz looks like he's been hit by a train, Derrick Harrington is a ghost, (without the white sheets pulled over his body), Cam Fisher is a mess waiting to be undone, Kemp Hurley does not hold the same cocky grin swallowing his egotistical face, Chris Plovert's hands shield his face, Alicia Rivera hugs Kristen Gregory with silent tears streaming down her beautiful face, and Claire and Massie take their seats.
Silence that pierces/slices/stabs/burns/ignites/seals/crashes/smothers/smolders/consumes the entire room.
They lift their glasses to the white ceiling, the blood red wine splashing over the rims of their unscathed cups, toasting to the one and only Dylan R. Marvil.
-:-
*R&R*
Not sure how I felt about this, considering it's such a mellow depressing one-shot.
Review? Maybe?
-another moment gone-
