The Fallen Interlude
By: Dark Draconain
Rated: PG - 13
Feedback: Is a happy place
Disclaimer: David, etc, are not mine, but everyone else is. Title courtesy of Blink-182.
Summery: Before he lived death, life killed him.
Author's Note: Story was written in the spring of 2004. AKA: it's old. Oh, and there are a whopping three chapters to this story. Yay.

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The Fallen Interlude

Chapter Three: Fade to Black

It was plain and nondescript; the same as the all the other hundreds of stone slabs, lined row upon row, dusted with the memory of a life long past. But the dead body that lay buried under the frozen ground at David's feet was anything but. It had once possessed a beauty so radiant it made the poetry of roses seem insignificant. She had been perfect, and her perfection had been a ghost of damnation. Her memory would be forever burned into David's mind, lashing his thought like a thousand blazing whips.

He looked around the cemetery, such as it was. Over the years it had decayed, faded into memory. The ominous wrought-iron gates were grown over with ivy, the ground caressed by the touch of a bitter winter that had never ceased. Withered flowers decorated the death that filled the air, adding their pain of rejection to the inharmonious choir of acrid elegies that drifted unheard through the cutting air.

David stood, taking in these sights without a conscious thought to their meaning. His mind was elsewhere, pouring over the vivid images of events that had occurred long ago.

The sun was shinning, shinning like there was no tomorrow. Even in memory, David trembled at its brightness. It was a beautiful day, and her lifeless body was being enclosed in a prison of dirt. It should have been raining. But it wasn't: it was sunny. David had hated the sun for that treachery. Now, though, he missed the light he had resented so much. He longed for its warm glow to touch his pale face. Longed for a reprieve from the eternal dusk.

But it was not to be.

David reached into his pocket and pulled out a white chrysanthemum.

It was ten o'clock in the morning. The halls of the placid high school were bustling with students hurrying to get to class, but David was as still as if he was set in stone. There, a mere four lockers away was Carma. Carma Grisom. The most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

"Are you ever going to ask her out?" inquired Dylan of his shy comrade.

David said nothing, just ran a hand through his messy blond hair and sighed.

"Jesus, man. You are pathetic," Dylan shook his head, "let's go. Don't want to be late for Harker's physics class." Dylan walked away, but David didn't fallow. He walked in the other direction.

Her long, dark hair ran down her face, framing its flawlessness in breathtaking wonder. Her eyelashes swept over pristine eyes of deep purple. On her delicate brow was a small indent; just large enough so that she wouldn't be mistaken for an Elven Queen, but small enough to go unnoticed by most.

"Carma," said David dryly. His palms were sweating.

She smiled at him. It was a wondrous thing. "Hi," she said softly.

"Uh...so..." he stumbled over the words, helpless as his throat choked closed.

"Yes...?" she said impatiently. "Spit it out, I don't wanted to be late for class."

"N...never mind," he croaked. David walked away, and he didn't look back.

He let the chrysanthemum drop from his hand and watched it fall to earth like battle-weary seraph.

Fresh spring air drifted lightly over the planes of long, green grass, lifting stray flower petals into the air and spinning them in a delicate whirlwind. David marched across the park. As he reached the small pond, a slight figure clad in white became visible, sitting quietly under a large tree.

"Hello," said David.

Carma looked up from the book she had been engaged in. "Hello, David."

He ran a hand through his tousled blond hair and sighed. "Uh..." he paused. "Carma, would like to go out some time " he forced the words out as quickly as he could without stumbling over them.

She stared blankly at him. "I...I don't...know..." she looked past his glasses and into his blue eyes, but David was sure all she could she a scrawny little geek.

"I understand," he said softly, turning on his heals and walking back towards a drab, grey life.

The chrysanthemum hit the frozen grave, collapsing on itself in forlorn misery and abandon.

It was sunny. Why the hell was it sunny? What king of karmic joke was this? David's scowl deepened as he adjusted his tie and proceeded to curse the infernal weather. It should be raining, he thought bitterly. But it wasn't. It was sunny.

As the drone of sorrowful voices hushed, David, through a haze of hurt and anger, became aware of movement. They were lowering her lifeless body down into the dirt, eternally sixteen.

No one would say what exactly had happened, but most people suspected it was murder, and that that was why the police wouldn't release any details. Bastards.

David took one last look at the plain, wooden coffin slowly descending into a bed of cold, and turned away. There was nothing for him there now, so he walked away on his life, and he didn't look back.

And as David gazed at the white chrysanthemum, a single tear rolled down his cheek.

fin