Dark Mourning
Friday, December 21, 2007
16:53:37
Her bare hands were cold. Even in the desert, no one could escape the cold wind that brought the night. The Las Vegas native stood in the midst of the dead, surrounded by graves which marked those who had passed over the years. One grave in particular drew her in, like a lighthouse beacon.
She remembered when she had met him, under the bright lights in a dark room. It had been yet another night in Vegas, and she had gone to what should have been just another party. However, while sitting at the bar, she saw him in the light, illuminated like an angel. She looked away, afraid that he would notice, but eventually looked back to see him again. When she did, he had vanished.
She had been surprised when she turned back to the bar and found him beside her. He introduced himself, and the dream had begun. Sadly for her, the dream had quickly become a nightmare, as only a few weeks later, she had received a phone call from the odd parking attendant in her apartment building, who said he killed her angel.
She had never told him that she loved him. He had come from nowhere, entered her life, and made her happier than she had ever been. She fought back tears and the urge to scream as she remembered dreaming of him. She knew that relationships, especially in Vegas, were rarely long-lasting, but death was very sudden nonetheless.
She could no longer control herself, and she broke into tears as the sun set in the west. Her tears left the ground pockmarked, with dark splotches on the cold earth, in the shadow of a grave marked 'Henry Walters: December 21, 1960 – July 23, 2007'.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
05:07:38
She held her pillow tight, tears welling in her eyes. She had awoken from a nightmare, remembering the pain from before. She felt so alone, missing her angel. All she could feel was the pain within, forgetting all that mattered. His death was a death sentence to her, forcing her to wander, lost in thought and ignorant to those around her. At her job, she became distant, as one would expect. However, she had not opened to anyone since he died.
She got up, barely dressed except for a silk nightgown that hugged her gently. Slowly, she made her way to the kitchen, led by a force incomprehensible and unquestionable. For a moment, her pain became anger at him for leaving her. He had betrayed her dreams, but the dam of anger broke again to the pain, and she continued her death march.
05:08:17
She reached to the top of the fridge and pulled down a sharp knife. She held it tenderly before bringing it to her wrist. Held in her position, she had one last internal debate about the risk of taking her own life. Then, as though guided by hands not her own, she brought the blade into her own flesh, and let the blood flow free. Then, like a woman possessed, she brought the blade to her own heart, jabbing it between the protective ribs. She fell forward, moments from death, satisfied that the pain would finally go away.
Inspired by I Miss You, sung by Blink 182
I thought I might as well make a sequel to Bloody Monday…
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year
