Written for the Fanfiction Idol competition. The challenge was to write a Riddle era fic. I hope you enjoy :)
the petals never lie
Petals painted in vivid scarlet litter the floor, shining like drops of blood in the faded candlelight. You tear at them with an almost savage longing, a longing to know exactly where you stand.
He loves me.
He loves me not.
Repeated, over and over and over, the words spinning and shimmering and sparkling inside your head as you yank the petals, raggedly tearing them from the source of their dark, velvety beauty.
He loves me.
He loves me not.
Hurry, hurry, h u r r y! Delay any longer and he will be gone. He will run away, this dark, doomed youth you love so much. He will fall to the darkness, turn that heart you long to hold, soft and malleable, in your pale hands, turn that heart to stone, bury his eyes in darkness and cruelty. You can save him, girl. But only if you tear these petals fast from their stalk. Only if you quickly find the answer to the age-old riddle.
He loves me.
He loves me not.
Faster, girl! You're not fast enough. Faster and faster and faster until your destructive fingers are a blur and the petals fall fast as rain that caresses your skin like a returning lover. If you wish for his fingers to replace the gentle rain', you must work faster. Destroy this beautiful flower, let the velvet-red petals rain down like frosted glass and let them decide on the issue weighing heavily on your scrawny shoulders.
He loves me.
He loves me not.
Be desperate, girl! Take all those feelings, all those memories of rare laughter dancing in dusky eyes, all your dreams of what could be and pour them into your fervent begging. Beg these tender spirits that tend on mortal thoughts, these dark creatures that raise hopes and yet dash them to the ground, beg them to answer your pretty enigma.
He loves me.
He loves me not.
Hope hard, girl! Hope with all your fragile little heart that the last petal to swirl elegantly to the ground carries with it the words imprinted on your heart. Cross your finger, close your eyes and wish until your head hurts to make this happen. Beg any deity that might be listening to grant your wish, for the angels to smile down on your and light up your world with him.
He loves me.
He loves me not.
Cry for him, girl! Cry tears that stain your rounded cheeks and sobs that rack your body as the final petal drifts to the ground. Cry as your raised hopes are dashed to the ground and the livelihood within your soul dissolves into mist, hopes of happiness dissipating on the wind.
He loves me not.
Look at yourself, girl! Look into the mirror and ask yourself why he'd ever notice you. Look at the thick glasses, the lank hair, your blotchy complexion, your round cheeks. You don't look tragically beautiful or beautifully tragic while crying. You just look blotchy and baby-faced, a little baby crying for her mother.
He loves me not.
That's right, girl! You're ugly; he'd never look twice at an invisible little Ravenclaw, the biggest cry-baby ever to grace Hogwarts' halls. He would never consider you, girl. Don't you know that the petals never lie.
He loves me not.
Tear those petals to shreds, girl! Pick them up and rip savagely, pull them into shards of what was once beauty. Break them like your heart has broken. Destroy them for dashing your hopes, for building them up and letting them fall. Cry out to those tender spirits, curse them and curse them, make them suffer as you are. Make them miserable as you are.
He loves me not.
He loves me not.
Loves me not.
Not. Not. Not. Not. Not.
No, girl! He will never love you. Never ever never ever never ever.
Get used to disappointment, girl. It's all you'll ever know.
He loves me not.
I hope you liked it.
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