I see her. I see her long, thick chestnut hair, that always smelled
like the flowers she loved. I see her brilliant emerald eyes, always
emanating such an aura of life. I see her pink lips, always curved up in a
cherubic smile that exuded her innocence, but also, her slightly
mischievious nature. I see... her.
I see her taken away from me, every night, in my dreams. I'm sitting down, starting forlornly at the ground. She stands in front of me. Behind me, there is darkness. Darkness which consumes my soul, and threatens to make me lose my humanity. I always hid it so well... but she was the only one who ever saw past my facade and saw the torment I was subject to, or perhaps, I didn't hide it well at all, and she was the only one who cared enough to do something about it. Behind her, there is a holy, radiant white light. She smiles and offers her hand to me. I reach for it, but my hand passes through her's, like air. She begins to float away, back into the light which is quickly fading.
When I first met her, I often had dreams where I was alone in my darkness, and above me, a white sphere would appear. A hand -- her hand, as small and delicate as one of her cherished flowers -- appeared out of the light and reached for me. I felt my heart rise as I clasped her hand, and she pulled me towards the light.
Every minute -- nay, every immeasurably small fraction of a second -- I spent with her, I felt happiness. Happiness was something I hadn't truly experienced, until I met her. She taught me how to enjoy life. She made me appreciate the beauty of flowers, of nature, and to enjoy the company of others and open up to people. She slew the cynical man in my heart and replaced it with a loving, carefree child.
I loved her, I loved her with all my heart. My love for her burned brighter and hotter than a hundred thousand suns. When she left my life, it extinguished that love to a few dying embers of emotion, struggling to remain alight. Now, I fear all that is left in me is a cold, dark vacuum.
It was because of him, but mostly me. Because of my inept actions, she died, at his hands. At the hands of my best friend, and her brother, driven mad with rage after his lover passed. I still see them on that rainy night. I remember the mad look in his eyes as his wicked, cruel blade pierced her fragile body. I saw the horror in her eyes as her older brother ran her through. He turned and flashed a wicked grin at me, before disappearing into the night.
I held her dying form in my arms. The blood flowed freely from her wound and mixed with the rain water. Her skin was ghostly pallid. I knew she would not survive much longer.
Her emerald eyes, normally so vibrant and full of life, were quickly fading. She only smiled a weak smile at me, and whispered, "Its not your fault," before she left me. Dead, in my arms, was the love of my life. My only reason to live. I could have ended it there. I should have ended my life right there, and I would be with her. Happy, just like I used to be.
But a new fire burned in my heart. A fire longing for revenge. A fire longing to kill him. To mutilate his body, to submit him to the cruelest, foulest torture imaginable.
I kissed her cold forehead and swore to her that I would avenge her. Swore on my love for her that I would find him, and make him answer for what he did.
I disappeared into the night, and searched for him. I would not rest until I found him, and had my revenge.
Images overwhelmed my senses, and I was flung out of my trance with such force, I felt my body shake. I looked around. I was in a forest. A few shining rays pierced the forest canopy from the east, indicating it was still morn. Something was wrong, however. I heard no birds, no animals. A soft breeze made the branches sway slightly. I scanned the foliage around me, searching for any intruders, while I picked up my sword with an iron grip.
Sensing no danger, I took a moment to examine my sword. The edges had dulled after training with it for such a long time, but the edge was still sharp enough to cleave wood. The blade curved upward, in the eastern fashion of a katana. The callouses on my hands had grown acustomed to the feel of the hilt. It felt natural for it to be in my hand. I had adapted to any imbalances it might have had when designed, and I now wielded it with such facileness, it felt like a crime to be apart from it.
"I never knew you had such a fine eye for blades," a cold voice pierced the silence like an arrow. I had been focused on my blade, instead of on sensing intruders. I could have heard him coming. Too late now, I said to myself, too late now.
My eyes narrowed when I saw the speaker. It was him, the ruthless monster who slaughtered her. Her brother, and my friend.
"Surprised that I would find you?" he grinned, a cold grin, a grin that hid a burning rage.
I swallowed hard. "I've been looking for you, in order to turn my wish into reality," I replied softly.
His icy blue eyes widened with taunting anticipation. "Your wish is to kill me? The one who killed your beloved?" He snorted. "Now you know the pain that I felt."
I felt warm anger permeate my body. "I suppose that's meant to justify murder. You lost the one you loved, so you thought it fair to make me feel the same loss?" My voice steadily rose, as I entered into a fighting stance.
His sword flew out of its scabbard. The same wicked blade, although it no longer gleamed as it once did. "I see your blade has lost some of its shine. Perhaps the blood of angels dulls the shine of steel," I said, my voice now quivering with rage.
A faint grin crossed his face. "Its time for you to die. I've waited for this for a long time."
My eyes scanned the scenario here. He was between five and ten yards away. I brought my sword up to eye level, and pointed it at his chest. His sword hung at his side. He was not in any kind of fighting stance.
I pushed off with great speed, charging him. I brought the blade across, aimed just below his ribcage. Sparks flashed as his blade met mine. I pushed with all my strength, but he held his blade in a reverse grip, giving him far more leverage than I had. I lept away from him and parried his counterattack. The steel of our swords clashing was the only sound that morning.
He was always a superb athlete in his youth. He played basketball in high school, but after he graduated, he turned his focus to the art of swordfighting. I had to admit that I enjoyed it as well, and we would often spar for hours. I felt as though he was a kindred spirit. I only knew him for a few months, but in that short period, I felt closer to him than to anyone, save her, that I had ever met. I was quiet in high school, and always tried to put up a cold, impassive facade. This, coupled with my cynical tendancies and general reclusive nature, left me with few opportunities to befriend people. Not that I really wanted to befriend anyone in my school. I always thought everyone was stupid, and tended to look down on others.
I finally found everything I could possibly want. The woman I wanted to spend the rest of eternity with, and a good friend to confide in. I felt whole for the first time in my life.
It all changed one day, when the woman he was betrothed to and very much in love with, fell ill. He was crushed, and despite our best efforts to lift his spirits, he only continued to spiral into a dark abyss of despair.
Then one night, I believe he snapped. He was going to leave, but neither of us would let him. He became enraged at his sister, and struck her with his sword. That was when it all began. That was the catalyst for my life falling into ruin, which ultimately led to the fight I was in now.
His deadly attacks never seemed to stop. He pressed me hard, not letting me get on the offensive. I could barely parry all of his attacks. I knew I had to change the momentum the battle, but I knew not how.
I saw a brief opportunity. I smacked his blade away and following through with the momentum, I spun in the air and cut... air.
My thoughts shot through my head quicker than I could comprehend them, and I immediately gave up on trying to make sense of them and let them control my blade.
I moved my neck back an inch, and I saw the blade pass through the air where my Adam's Apple had been less than one second ago. I backpedalled as quick as I could, but felt my foot catch on a root, and I fell backwards into some leaves.
He was directly above me, with his back to the rising sun. He resembled a dark shadow, preparing to bring his blade down on me to put a merciful end to my existence.
When I first met her, she was being attacked by thugs in an alley. Normally, its not my style to stick my neck out too far for anyone, not even beautiful girls, but something compelled me. She had shot me a quick glance, and her eyes seemed to contain a desperate, pleading fear. Her captors noticed and smacked her. For some reason, my facade melted, and I told them to get away. They pulled out their pocket knives on me, but I grabbed a metal pipe of medium length and managed to drive most of them off. Then one of them, larger and more brutish than the rest, shouldered me hard in the stomach, sending me sprawling on some trash bags. I thought my life was over then, and I suppose I wasn't terribly frightened at the prospect. I always wanted to die a hero, anyways.
But I saw that she had not yet fled! I realized it would be for nothing, but then she did something. My pipe had fallen aside when he shouldered me. She rushed up, grabbed it, and hit the brute on the head with it.
The thug was distracted, and grabbed her hands. She dropped the pipe, which left me with enough of an opportunity to spring out of the bags, grab the pipe, and shove it forcefully into his diaphram, knocking the wind out of him. I let him catch his breath and flee. Then I turned to her, and asked, with genuine concern, if she was all right.
My reason for living may have been effaced, but I still possessed pride. I rolled out of the way of the descending sword of Damocles, but I was still at a disadvantage. He pulled the sword out of the dirt, and swung at me.
My sword stopped his, but barely. I had managed to deflect it so that he was locked. It was suicidal, however. As soon as I let go, his sword would cleave through me.
Then, I noticed something at his belt. He possessed a second sword. I was far from a master of it, but I knew I was proficient in dual sword fighting. I hoped that I wouldn't have to be, however, as I hoped I could end the fight at this moment.
Without a moment's hesitation, my hand grabbed for the sword, and I felt my grip tighten around the hilt. He pulled away suddenly, releasing the katana from its scabbard and into my hand.
With renewed fury, I found myself on the offensive. My attacks flowed as easily as water cascading into a lake. I looked into his eyes, however, and saw that he was nowhere near as hard pressed as I had been when I was blocking his attacks.
I pressed harder, beginning to attack harder and faster. I still couldn't find a way past his impregnable barrier, though.
Suddenly, he lept back against a tree. He positioned his feet and pushed off of it and approached me. I knew, this was it.
I foolishly attempted to parry it at first, but that only served to knock my sword away. I managed to duck under the attack, and plunged my sword upwards, into his side. I felt the blade carve into his side, but at the same time, I felt pain.
It was like a cold fire, piercing through my back. I felt my skin and muscles tear under his blade. Strangely, I did not cringe or scream in pain. I only felt my temperature shoot up. I looked up and saw his face. It was twisted in surprise, but I saw something in his eyes. The murderous villian who killed my beloved was gone. The torment and inner conflict was gone.
He dislodged his sword from my back at the same time I pulled mine from his side. We both stumbled to tree trunks, and collapsed against them, then struggled to face each other.
"I guess this is it, brother-in-law," he said weakly, struggling to get the words out.
I started to reply, but found words too difficult, so I merely nodded.
"Hey... do you think, she'll ever forgive me?" he asked.
I raised my head to look at him. The question took me quite aback. "I think she all ready has," I replied.
He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. "Yeah, I guess so." He opened his eyes and looked down at me. "Guess I'll see you in heaven." He smiled weakly.
I smirked. "Yeah, I guess I will."
His smile widened as he closed his eyes. His body went limp. He was dead.
I knew my time was near, as well. I leaned my head against the hard trunk, closed my eyes, and let the darkness consume me.
I was alone. In the dark. My dark. The darkness I created for myself. I looked around, searching for a light to guide me. I found none, and began to feel despair. What if I'm going to hell? I began to shudder. I think I even felt myself begin to cry, if a ghost can indeed cry.
It was cold. It was terribly cold. It wasn't icy cold... ice didn't begin to describe this terrible coldness. It felt as if I was wearing the robes of the Grim Reaper, and his presence still haunted the fabric. I was sure of it then. I was going to hell, or someplace bad, at least. I never had much conviction in religion.
All of a sudden, the deathly cold was dispelled. I felt a warm presence. A presence I hadn't felt in a long time. Was it... her?
I frantically looked around. Then, I sensed a bright light above me. I looked up, and a brilliant white sphere materialized above me. It almost blinded me with its radiance.
Then I saw it. I saw a hand descending towards me. I reached out, desperately, as one would reach for a lifejacket when drowning. There was no mistake; it was her hand. The hand I had always cherished to hold in mine.
Our fingers brushed together for a moment, before she firmly took my hand. I felt a powerful pulling sensation, as I was pulled into the light.
I think I passed out, but when I came to, I was looking at two brilliant emerald eyes, emanating an aura of life. Long, thick chestnut hair smelled of flowers. Pink lips curved up in a cherubic smile that exuded innocence, but also, a slightly mischievious nature. I see... her.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to do a thousand different things, but none of them would ever prove to her how much I loved her, and the overwhelming joy I felt in my heart when I saw her. I did none of those things, because I never had the chance. She bent down and our lips met, and I felt her breath emotion back into me, for the second time.
I see her taken away from me, every night, in my dreams. I'm sitting down, starting forlornly at the ground. She stands in front of me. Behind me, there is darkness. Darkness which consumes my soul, and threatens to make me lose my humanity. I always hid it so well... but she was the only one who ever saw past my facade and saw the torment I was subject to, or perhaps, I didn't hide it well at all, and she was the only one who cared enough to do something about it. Behind her, there is a holy, radiant white light. She smiles and offers her hand to me. I reach for it, but my hand passes through her's, like air. She begins to float away, back into the light which is quickly fading.
When I first met her, I often had dreams where I was alone in my darkness, and above me, a white sphere would appear. A hand -- her hand, as small and delicate as one of her cherished flowers -- appeared out of the light and reached for me. I felt my heart rise as I clasped her hand, and she pulled me towards the light.
Every minute -- nay, every immeasurably small fraction of a second -- I spent with her, I felt happiness. Happiness was something I hadn't truly experienced, until I met her. She taught me how to enjoy life. She made me appreciate the beauty of flowers, of nature, and to enjoy the company of others and open up to people. She slew the cynical man in my heart and replaced it with a loving, carefree child.
I loved her, I loved her with all my heart. My love for her burned brighter and hotter than a hundred thousand suns. When she left my life, it extinguished that love to a few dying embers of emotion, struggling to remain alight. Now, I fear all that is left in me is a cold, dark vacuum.
It was because of him, but mostly me. Because of my inept actions, she died, at his hands. At the hands of my best friend, and her brother, driven mad with rage after his lover passed. I still see them on that rainy night. I remember the mad look in his eyes as his wicked, cruel blade pierced her fragile body. I saw the horror in her eyes as her older brother ran her through. He turned and flashed a wicked grin at me, before disappearing into the night.
I held her dying form in my arms. The blood flowed freely from her wound and mixed with the rain water. Her skin was ghostly pallid. I knew she would not survive much longer.
Her emerald eyes, normally so vibrant and full of life, were quickly fading. She only smiled a weak smile at me, and whispered, "Its not your fault," before she left me. Dead, in my arms, was the love of my life. My only reason to live. I could have ended it there. I should have ended my life right there, and I would be with her. Happy, just like I used to be.
But a new fire burned in my heart. A fire longing for revenge. A fire longing to kill him. To mutilate his body, to submit him to the cruelest, foulest torture imaginable.
I kissed her cold forehead and swore to her that I would avenge her. Swore on my love for her that I would find him, and make him answer for what he did.
I disappeared into the night, and searched for him. I would not rest until I found him, and had my revenge.
Images overwhelmed my senses, and I was flung out of my trance with such force, I felt my body shake. I looked around. I was in a forest. A few shining rays pierced the forest canopy from the east, indicating it was still morn. Something was wrong, however. I heard no birds, no animals. A soft breeze made the branches sway slightly. I scanned the foliage around me, searching for any intruders, while I picked up my sword with an iron grip.
Sensing no danger, I took a moment to examine my sword. The edges had dulled after training with it for such a long time, but the edge was still sharp enough to cleave wood. The blade curved upward, in the eastern fashion of a katana. The callouses on my hands had grown acustomed to the feel of the hilt. It felt natural for it to be in my hand. I had adapted to any imbalances it might have had when designed, and I now wielded it with such facileness, it felt like a crime to be apart from it.
"I never knew you had such a fine eye for blades," a cold voice pierced the silence like an arrow. I had been focused on my blade, instead of on sensing intruders. I could have heard him coming. Too late now, I said to myself, too late now.
My eyes narrowed when I saw the speaker. It was him, the ruthless monster who slaughtered her. Her brother, and my friend.
"Surprised that I would find you?" he grinned, a cold grin, a grin that hid a burning rage.
I swallowed hard. "I've been looking for you, in order to turn my wish into reality," I replied softly.
His icy blue eyes widened with taunting anticipation. "Your wish is to kill me? The one who killed your beloved?" He snorted. "Now you know the pain that I felt."
I felt warm anger permeate my body. "I suppose that's meant to justify murder. You lost the one you loved, so you thought it fair to make me feel the same loss?" My voice steadily rose, as I entered into a fighting stance.
His sword flew out of its scabbard. The same wicked blade, although it no longer gleamed as it once did. "I see your blade has lost some of its shine. Perhaps the blood of angels dulls the shine of steel," I said, my voice now quivering with rage.
A faint grin crossed his face. "Its time for you to die. I've waited for this for a long time."
My eyes scanned the scenario here. He was between five and ten yards away. I brought my sword up to eye level, and pointed it at his chest. His sword hung at his side. He was not in any kind of fighting stance.
I pushed off with great speed, charging him. I brought the blade across, aimed just below his ribcage. Sparks flashed as his blade met mine. I pushed with all my strength, but he held his blade in a reverse grip, giving him far more leverage than I had. I lept away from him and parried his counterattack. The steel of our swords clashing was the only sound that morning.
He was always a superb athlete in his youth. He played basketball in high school, but after he graduated, he turned his focus to the art of swordfighting. I had to admit that I enjoyed it as well, and we would often spar for hours. I felt as though he was a kindred spirit. I only knew him for a few months, but in that short period, I felt closer to him than to anyone, save her, that I had ever met. I was quiet in high school, and always tried to put up a cold, impassive facade. This, coupled with my cynical tendancies and general reclusive nature, left me with few opportunities to befriend people. Not that I really wanted to befriend anyone in my school. I always thought everyone was stupid, and tended to look down on others.
I finally found everything I could possibly want. The woman I wanted to spend the rest of eternity with, and a good friend to confide in. I felt whole for the first time in my life.
It all changed one day, when the woman he was betrothed to and very much in love with, fell ill. He was crushed, and despite our best efforts to lift his spirits, he only continued to spiral into a dark abyss of despair.
Then one night, I believe he snapped. He was going to leave, but neither of us would let him. He became enraged at his sister, and struck her with his sword. That was when it all began. That was the catalyst for my life falling into ruin, which ultimately led to the fight I was in now.
His deadly attacks never seemed to stop. He pressed me hard, not letting me get on the offensive. I could barely parry all of his attacks. I knew I had to change the momentum the battle, but I knew not how.
I saw a brief opportunity. I smacked his blade away and following through with the momentum, I spun in the air and cut... air.
My thoughts shot through my head quicker than I could comprehend them, and I immediately gave up on trying to make sense of them and let them control my blade.
I moved my neck back an inch, and I saw the blade pass through the air where my Adam's Apple had been less than one second ago. I backpedalled as quick as I could, but felt my foot catch on a root, and I fell backwards into some leaves.
He was directly above me, with his back to the rising sun. He resembled a dark shadow, preparing to bring his blade down on me to put a merciful end to my existence.
When I first met her, she was being attacked by thugs in an alley. Normally, its not my style to stick my neck out too far for anyone, not even beautiful girls, but something compelled me. She had shot me a quick glance, and her eyes seemed to contain a desperate, pleading fear. Her captors noticed and smacked her. For some reason, my facade melted, and I told them to get away. They pulled out their pocket knives on me, but I grabbed a metal pipe of medium length and managed to drive most of them off. Then one of them, larger and more brutish than the rest, shouldered me hard in the stomach, sending me sprawling on some trash bags. I thought my life was over then, and I suppose I wasn't terribly frightened at the prospect. I always wanted to die a hero, anyways.
But I saw that she had not yet fled! I realized it would be for nothing, but then she did something. My pipe had fallen aside when he shouldered me. She rushed up, grabbed it, and hit the brute on the head with it.
The thug was distracted, and grabbed her hands. She dropped the pipe, which left me with enough of an opportunity to spring out of the bags, grab the pipe, and shove it forcefully into his diaphram, knocking the wind out of him. I let him catch his breath and flee. Then I turned to her, and asked, with genuine concern, if she was all right.
My reason for living may have been effaced, but I still possessed pride. I rolled out of the way of the descending sword of Damocles, but I was still at a disadvantage. He pulled the sword out of the dirt, and swung at me.
My sword stopped his, but barely. I had managed to deflect it so that he was locked. It was suicidal, however. As soon as I let go, his sword would cleave through me.
Then, I noticed something at his belt. He possessed a second sword. I was far from a master of it, but I knew I was proficient in dual sword fighting. I hoped that I wouldn't have to be, however, as I hoped I could end the fight at this moment.
Without a moment's hesitation, my hand grabbed for the sword, and I felt my grip tighten around the hilt. He pulled away suddenly, releasing the katana from its scabbard and into my hand.
With renewed fury, I found myself on the offensive. My attacks flowed as easily as water cascading into a lake. I looked into his eyes, however, and saw that he was nowhere near as hard pressed as I had been when I was blocking his attacks.
I pressed harder, beginning to attack harder and faster. I still couldn't find a way past his impregnable barrier, though.
Suddenly, he lept back against a tree. He positioned his feet and pushed off of it and approached me. I knew, this was it.
I foolishly attempted to parry it at first, but that only served to knock my sword away. I managed to duck under the attack, and plunged my sword upwards, into his side. I felt the blade carve into his side, but at the same time, I felt pain.
It was like a cold fire, piercing through my back. I felt my skin and muscles tear under his blade. Strangely, I did not cringe or scream in pain. I only felt my temperature shoot up. I looked up and saw his face. It was twisted in surprise, but I saw something in his eyes. The murderous villian who killed my beloved was gone. The torment and inner conflict was gone.
He dislodged his sword from my back at the same time I pulled mine from his side. We both stumbled to tree trunks, and collapsed against them, then struggled to face each other.
"I guess this is it, brother-in-law," he said weakly, struggling to get the words out.
I started to reply, but found words too difficult, so I merely nodded.
"Hey... do you think, she'll ever forgive me?" he asked.
I raised my head to look at him. The question took me quite aback. "I think she all ready has," I replied.
He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. "Yeah, I guess so." He opened his eyes and looked down at me. "Guess I'll see you in heaven." He smiled weakly.
I smirked. "Yeah, I guess I will."
His smile widened as he closed his eyes. His body went limp. He was dead.
I knew my time was near, as well. I leaned my head against the hard trunk, closed my eyes, and let the darkness consume me.
I was alone. In the dark. My dark. The darkness I created for myself. I looked around, searching for a light to guide me. I found none, and began to feel despair. What if I'm going to hell? I began to shudder. I think I even felt myself begin to cry, if a ghost can indeed cry.
It was cold. It was terribly cold. It wasn't icy cold... ice didn't begin to describe this terrible coldness. It felt as if I was wearing the robes of the Grim Reaper, and his presence still haunted the fabric. I was sure of it then. I was going to hell, or someplace bad, at least. I never had much conviction in religion.
All of a sudden, the deathly cold was dispelled. I felt a warm presence. A presence I hadn't felt in a long time. Was it... her?
I frantically looked around. Then, I sensed a bright light above me. I looked up, and a brilliant white sphere materialized above me. It almost blinded me with its radiance.
Then I saw it. I saw a hand descending towards me. I reached out, desperately, as one would reach for a lifejacket when drowning. There was no mistake; it was her hand. The hand I had always cherished to hold in mine.
Our fingers brushed together for a moment, before she firmly took my hand. I felt a powerful pulling sensation, as I was pulled into the light.
I think I passed out, but when I came to, I was looking at two brilliant emerald eyes, emanating an aura of life. Long, thick chestnut hair smelled of flowers. Pink lips curved up in a cherubic smile that exuded innocence, but also, a slightly mischievious nature. I see... her.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to do a thousand different things, but none of them would ever prove to her how much I loved her, and the overwhelming joy I felt in my heart when I saw her. I did none of those things, because I never had the chance. She bent down and our lips met, and I felt her breath emotion back into me, for the second time.