BLOOD RED ROSES.
The poison is quick to work.
That was what he was told.
By the man in the hooded cloak, who sold it to him.
A flash of lightening illuminated the sky, as the petals of rain began to fall. Softly at first, gradually building up stamina, before the Gods of the Sky worked their magic.
He blinked. Once. Twice. Nothing seemed to register in his mind. It was blank, broken. Like his heart.
He had owled her, to say, he'd be home a little late. But not to worry, because he'd have a surprise for her when he came home. That was the plan. Tell her he'd be late and then show up early, with roses. Blood-red roses; their favourite. And a kiss, a kiss for her and a kiss for the baby, inside of her.
He searched the house, but after finding nothing but space, he assumed she was in the bedroom.
And that was when the roses fell. When his heart stopped beating. When his grasp for life, slipped away.
His wife screamed when she saw him. His best friend pulled himself out of her, recoiling in the bed-sheets. "Ron?!" he gasped, somewhat out of breath. He didn't get a chance to react, before his feet started shuffling him away. He didn't know where they were taking him, or for how long he had been walking, half-dead, like a zombie. He didn't see the crooked old man walk up to him, hidden beneath his cloak, until he was handing him a capsule.
"Red as blood. With the scent of a rose. The poison is quick to work" Ron didn't say anything. He took the capsule, and drifted away.
Deep into the woods.
Deep into the darkness.
He dropped, down by a tree, next to a river, surrounded by...such a beautiful scent.
Amidst all his tears, all his pain, all his woe. He managed to drink the potion.
He had given Harry everything. Family, support, sympathy, care and love. And this was how he repaid him. By taking the one thing he thought he would always have; Hermione. And the baby..oh, the baby. Ron squeezed his eyes shut, as more tears fell.
The baby probably wasn't even his.
How long had they been doing this? How long had they been torturing him, behind his back?
Hermione. He had given her everything she had ever dreamed of; fortune, power, popularity, love..oh, above all things love. And this was how she thanked him; by leading him to believe that she loved him as much as he did her; obviously not.
Ron opened his eyes, gasping for breath, as the hands of death clutched tightly at his throat. The night sky helped shield him, from the prying eyes that were in search of him. The stings of the hardened rain somehow eased his pain.
And that scent, that beautiful scent.....ah, blood-red roses.
His favourite.
He was surrounded by them.
This was this blurry reddened image that clouded his soul, as he took in his last breath, never to smell that beautiful scent again. Never to laugh at the down turned world. Never to see the wonder of what life can bring; never to love again.
Missi.
The poison is quick to work.
That was what he was told.
By the man in the hooded cloak, who sold it to him.
A flash of lightening illuminated the sky, as the petals of rain began to fall. Softly at first, gradually building up stamina, before the Gods of the Sky worked their magic.
He blinked. Once. Twice. Nothing seemed to register in his mind. It was blank, broken. Like his heart.
He had owled her, to say, he'd be home a little late. But not to worry, because he'd have a surprise for her when he came home. That was the plan. Tell her he'd be late and then show up early, with roses. Blood-red roses; their favourite. And a kiss, a kiss for her and a kiss for the baby, inside of her.
He searched the house, but after finding nothing but space, he assumed she was in the bedroom.
And that was when the roses fell. When his heart stopped beating. When his grasp for life, slipped away.
His wife screamed when she saw him. His best friend pulled himself out of her, recoiling in the bed-sheets. "Ron?!" he gasped, somewhat out of breath. He didn't get a chance to react, before his feet started shuffling him away. He didn't know where they were taking him, or for how long he had been walking, half-dead, like a zombie. He didn't see the crooked old man walk up to him, hidden beneath his cloak, until he was handing him a capsule.
"Red as blood. With the scent of a rose. The poison is quick to work" Ron didn't say anything. He took the capsule, and drifted away.
Deep into the woods.
Deep into the darkness.
He dropped, down by a tree, next to a river, surrounded by...such a beautiful scent.
Amidst all his tears, all his pain, all his woe. He managed to drink the potion.
He had given Harry everything. Family, support, sympathy, care and love. And this was how he repaid him. By taking the one thing he thought he would always have; Hermione. And the baby..oh, the baby. Ron squeezed his eyes shut, as more tears fell.
The baby probably wasn't even his.
How long had they been doing this? How long had they been torturing him, behind his back?
Hermione. He had given her everything she had ever dreamed of; fortune, power, popularity, love..oh, above all things love. And this was how she thanked him; by leading him to believe that she loved him as much as he did her; obviously not.
Ron opened his eyes, gasping for breath, as the hands of death clutched tightly at his throat. The night sky helped shield him, from the prying eyes that were in search of him. The stings of the hardened rain somehow eased his pain.
And that scent, that beautiful scent.....ah, blood-red roses.
His favourite.
He was surrounded by them.
This was this blurry reddened image that clouded his soul, as he took in his last breath, never to smell that beautiful scent again. Never to laugh at the down turned world. Never to see the wonder of what life can bring; never to love again.
Missi.