Having been a Fiyeraba writer for about a year and a half now, I thought it was about time I wrote an ALAYM scene. To be honest what's stopped me doing so already is fear that it would not be good enough. So feedback on this would be most welcome. Please? :)
The sun set on a city in chaos. The roads were thick with panicked residents rushing to get back to their houses as the news of the Captain's betrayal spread. Women screamed, children cried, men muttered about Witch hunts but were hasty to return to their houses before dark too. Soldiers scurried through the streets, searching for evidence that was long gone – more rabble than army with their Captain absent.
The party, which so many had been present at just moments before, lay abandoned, door hinges broken in the rush to get out. The floor littered with broken glass and wine from the goblets frantically dropped. Hems of fine clothes, trampled and ripped, lay on the floor – rare Gillikin satin deemed useless when their owners feared for their lives. One lonely woman strode through the mess caring little about what she saw. All she felt was anger, sadness, disappointment and hurt, so much hurt.
But none of this chaos reached the forest. The rustling of the breeze and the gentle hooting of the owls were only disturbed by the soft sounds of the lovers who had intruded on the natural world. Yet, unlike everywhere else, there they were welcomed with open arms.
The young couple, prince and witch, improbably – impossibly together – held each other tightly, unwilling to let go for only the other's touch let them feel that there was a slightest chance that this wasn't a dream. Two people, so lonely, so alone, dead inside for as long as they could remember were suddenly alive again. All defences dropped. Thinking, feeling, being.
Fear, but only for losing the other again. Sadness, for they knew their chances would die come the morning. Disbelief, in a world with so little good how could there be something so perfect? Guilt, for the one they'd left behind, for no victory was without sacrifice. But happiness, oh so much, happiness, for once fate had moved in their favour. For once they had won.
And theirs was a victory. A victory surrounded by one hundred losses but a victory none the less. They had done the impossible. They were there, together, for once unobstructed by the rules of protocol. They had fought and they were still alive. That much alone was a wonder. For just a moment they had won and they celebrated.
Whispered words in the darkness. Words neither thought that they would ever say. Love. Love blooming out of a sea of hate. The tide was still closing in on them but for the moment the waters were calm. Joy, an emotion neither could remember yet it burst from them in all directions. They had a moment and it was theirs. They intended to make the very most out of it. Passion, desire and heat, so much heat, all coherent thought was lost. All the troubles of the past, present and future forgotten for this one moment. They were where they were meant to be and for that moment that was all that mattered.
The tears that streamed down both their faces afterwards were uncontained. They cried for the times that they'd lost and the time that they had, that they were together at last but it would end and all too soon. They lay, curled up in each other's arms, not daring to fall asleep for fear of losing a second. Staring at the other in the moonlight revelling in the now. Hoping, wishing that they could stop time, that they could be this way forever. Savouring every second as it insisted on ticking. If they could only have a moment then that moment would be theirs forever.
Yet, as the sun rose on a fallen house in Munchkinland, that moment was already only a memory.
