EVERYTHING J.K. ROWLING OWNS BELONGS TO HER EVERYTHING I OWN (WHICH IS PRETTY MUCH NOTHING) BELONGS TO ME.
It was a cold, grey November night and the wind was speeding around the graveyard. The grey concrete stood erect against the wind. It was as beautiful as any other memorial in the graveyard. The names and dates etched upon the memorials haunted friends and family until they joined their beloved.
A boy sat in front of the smallest grave. His knee's hugged into his chest and the grass around him swayed in the wind. His blue hair was windswept and hid his teary eyes. The boy did not look older than 16 but his eyes where ones of an old soul. One what had seen too much to live a peaceful childhood. He was in a war; he would never have memories off it, just tales off what had happened. His scars did not show upon his skin but upon his soul. The grave belonged to his parents they both died the night the war ended, they had died fighting for the good of the world, but sometimes their son wished they were more selfish. They never saw him leave for school, his first black eye, his first girlfriend, never told him off for his first underage drink and never gave him the talk.
The boy came most weeks to talk to his parents, he told them of his problems and his hopes. On this particular night he told them of a really annoying girl, with stupid blue, silver eyes and long brown hair which swished around her in the wind. He complained how she always got better marks and how she was bossy. I hated how annoying she was and how his godparents betted on how long it would take for them to get together.
The following year in November there was a lacking of the boy. He was replaced by a beautiful girl, just 17 with long brown hair and engaging blue, steely eyes. She knelt in front of the grave, crying into her hands. Her eyes were red and puffy and the tears rolled of her chin and onto her knees. She muttered in a soft voice what could be barley heard above the wind; how he could not be taken away. How she loved him and she hasn't told him. She was secretly in love with him for years and she was too scared to fall for him. She thought he was annoying and too proud but as she grew closer to him she had to push him further away to stop herself. She pleaded to his parents to let him stay longer, she knew she was being selfish but she couldn't live if wasn't with her.
The years passed by the two visitors grew and changed their hair faded and lines appeared. More people joined the duo. Children to be precise, too young to understand why they visited an old grey stone. The boy had grown into a father, his vivid blue hair had faded into a baby blue but his hand was entwined with the girls, she too had grown and motherhood was becoming of her. Her hair was shorter and laugh lines surrounded the same blue eyes. The children ran across the fields. The oldest boy about 7 had blue tips on top of his spiky blue hair which swayed in the wind has he held the little girls hand and chased after their other brother. The winds picked up its strength sending everyone expect the man with blue hair to struggle to the car. The blue eyed woman ushered her children into their seats, understanding her husband's need to stay a little while longer.
He told the graves it took him until he was 18 to get her, a month after being in a coma. He told them how she was never annoying; he just didn't understand how much he loved her. He asked them if they liked her as a daughter in law and if they loved their grandchildren. He strolled towards his family, wrapping his scarf further around him, just as he shut the car door to leave, he heard the wind whisper "they're all something." The wind rustled through the door as it finished its whisper. The boy had transformed into a man.
I would like to say thank you to Sapphire at dawn, for the helpful advice.