Last Breath
Written for a friend. I had to describe a picture she had created.
Last Breath belongs to the following groups:
! Creative Writing & Poetry !Last Breath
The sun rose up over the trees in the distance, casting it’s piercing orange glow over everything it touched. The green, dew drop heavy grass released it’s heady scent into the air and the bushes rustled in unison. The house itself was perfectly ordinary, just like all the others in the neat, symmetrical row. It was white, just like the rest, and the porch was aligned exactly the same as it’s neighbours. There was one difference about this house which made it stand out from the rest and that was the girl leaning out of the window on the top floor. She had a bright shock of dark pink, almost purple hair which flowed around her shoulders and reflected the light from the sun in glistening waves. She glanced furtively down each side of the street and back again, her eyes raking over every single object that lay in the tidy and sophisticated front lawns. Newspapers, milk bottles, bicycles, water pumps; she took it all in and committed it to memory. She edged tentatively away from the window, back into her room and shut it carefully as to not make a sound. She perched calmly on the corner of her bed, stock still as if waiting for something or someone. Glancing at the clock, it appeared to be exactly six in the morning, just one minute to go. The desk filled her vision as she focused on that one special patch, just beneath the gleaming lamp and to the left of her neatly arranged stationary. She was holding her breath, as she had done for the last month and was feeling light headed, but she would not move, not for anything. Her heart throbbed through her body, pounding at her temples and breaking her illusion of stillness by twitching her hands. She glanced furtively to the right, the alarm clock read six o’clock and fifty-nine seconds. Her gaze immediately locked on a small, pristine envelope which had appeared on her desk. She released her breath with a light sigh, apprehension plucking at her every nerve and making her vibrate like an instrument. She picked up the envelope using only the tip of her fingers, and plucked at the neat pick bow which held the pink card in place. Anticipation made her incapable of breathing as she nervously turned the letter around to read inside. The writing was pink as well, just like everything in her world, anything that existed. She was called a lunatic, insane, not fit for society, but she was right and all that mattered was that she knew it. She licked her parched lips and focused on the thin Victorian writing, each word conveyed undeserved affection and longing.
_Dearest Kry;
Every day we spent apart is like torture to my soul, each minute is a decade to me, each rising of the sun is like a hard edge of a sword breaking me. All I need is for your hand in mine, then the world will be alright, then the world will be as it should. We are nought but two lost souls, striving against it all for perfection, and what perfection it shall be! Our love will be immortal, incorruptible, pure. I dream about you, you know. Every night, everyday, every single waking hour I fantasise about holding your delicate little hand, kissing your ruby red lips and making you my own. It is written in stone, my love, and nothing will pierce it’s hard shell, nothing will ever come between us, I’ll make sure of that and I’m coming for you. I can’t believe that this day is finally here, this precise second out of the millions that have ever been or will proceed it. Go now, gather your things, and we shall meet. Beneath the wispy, weeping willow by the river, there we shall see eye to eye for the first time, feel each others skin and bask in the other’s loving glow. Eight o’clock sharp;
Your one and only love xxx_
The letter was warm in Kry’s hands, warm from another person’s touch. A bubble of anticipation welled up inside her chest, and she wanted to let it out, she wanted to scream, to dance, to let all her emotions out in a torrent of tears and laughter. She fought it down, kept it in check, there would be plenty of time for such emotions later. The letter started to fray at the edges, unweave just like the countless others. She inhaled the scent of the parchment, it’s fruity scent, like that of an orange orchard in mid-flower. The paper was becoming lighter as it peeled off into the air, dissolving into nothing. She pressed it close to her heart as the last of it faded, leaving a blank space where her heart was, and an overwhelming sense of depression clouded her thoughts. She sat down on the floor, back hunched, knees drawn up to her chest and she cried. She had done this everyday for countless years through her short life. Her tears coalesced on her hand, each one light pink compared to her pale pink, almost white skin. They formed an almost transparent line down her baggy shirt which hung off her shoulders and rocked with her as she cried. Her lip trembled as she stood up, using the desk to support her weight and walked slowly towards the bathroom, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeves as she did so. She slipped off the shirt and stood into the shower, the freezing water raising the hairs on her skin and causing her to shiver. Her heart was still pounding from the letter and her pulse was still faster than normal. She felt dizzy as she contemplated what she had read, he would be here today, and she had only hours to prepare.
Kry threw on a white silk top and white denim trousers as she darted from her room. Her hair which was now tied into two identical tails which flowed down her back and were held in place by two rose hair clips. They both bounced across her back as she leapt down the stairs and unlatched the door. It was still early in the morning and the bird cries flitted through the air as a breeze picked up and danced through the grass. Vaulting the fence, Kry relied on instinct on where to go. She knew for a fact that there were no rivers anywhere near her estate, but He always kept his word and He never lied. She would find their meeting place, no matter how far or hard she had to run. A wood fringed her town, and something compelled her towards it, making her sprint even faster. She was not tiring, but each step filled her with more energy and life until she felt about to burst. The dark, crowded forest grew closer, it’s many trees sticking up into the sky and each leaf bursting with life and vibrancy. The dark pink of the undergrowth seemed to melt with the dappling light that penetrated the thick leaves and braches above her head. She kept sprinting, dodging tree roots and leaping mounds of earth. She went deeper and deeper right into the heart of the woodland. The compulsion to move suddenly faltered and she stopped, heaving in as much air as she could breathe. A blinding light filled her senses and her ears filled with a high pitches scream, almost like that of a kettle boiling. Kry staggered to the side, arms reaching out, attempting to dispel her blindness. She fell down on her hands and knees, coughing as the light receded and the sound dimmed. She slowly opened her eyes and stared at what she was kneeling on. The pink, sparkly silk sheet glistened in the dappled light and whispered as she pushed against it. A table and bench stood upright beside her, and on the table lay a three tiered cake, the icing seeming to gleam with a light of it’s own. A present lay on the bench, just out of her reach but she knew it wasn’t for her, at least not yet. The weeping willow stood erect behind her, it’s pink blossom floating in the warm air, each strand wavering to an unheard tune. Pink, florescent hearts dangled at different lengths and angles from the willow, each one gyrating at a different speed and direction. A small picket fence wrapped itself around the enclosed space, stopping at the river which babbled incessantly as if talking to itself. The water gleamed and danced in the sunlight, twisting and turning over unseen rocks which lurked at it’s depths. The water was crystal clear, but the bottom was so deep it was lost in the churning current. A slight breeze picked up, scattering the blossom from the trees in a thousand different directions. It drifted absentmindedly on the wind, shifting course at it’s whim. She caught the scent on her nose, and the hair on the back of Kry’s neck prickled and the warm, caring scent consumed her, sending her off into a spiral of dreams, each one laced with that mysterious lover, who should now be making his final sojourn to her awaiting arms.
A warm, dry hand arced across her face, cresting her cheekbones and tracing her jaw line. The scent of orange groves in spring filled her nostrils and she tried to sit up excitedly, but a calm, powerful hand held her down. A voice, youthful but full of wisdom whispered over the rising wind;
‘I’m here, my love, here for you.’ She ached to respond, every fibre of her being told her she had to at the least open her eyes and gaze upon His angelic face. But her own body wouldn’t obey her, and His hand was still placed upon her stomach. She heard Him stand up, and tread softly to the tree. Kry opened one eye blearily and rubbed the sleep from it, before gazing across the silk sheets and at Him. He wore a black hat, which was tilted jauntily over his face, bathing it in secretive shadows. His crisp suit snugly hung onto his curves and accentuated his muscles. The thin black tie was held in place by a clip to stop it bouncing around in the breeze. She sidled up to Him, and tilted His hat back, staring deep into His purple eyes, His pale skin matched her own and when He smiled a warm tingling sensation drove through her body. She felt overwhelmed by His presence and He consumed her very sense. His soothing and repetitive breathing, His soft skin on her fingers, the very scent of Him drover her wild with passion. He bent down to her, and she pushed her face against His, breathing Him in, tasting the warmth of His mouth, wrapping her arms around His back and tousling His hair under His hat. She didn’t need to breathe, as she was living off of Him, His very soul and essence was hers and she needed nothing more. Her hand was exploring His body and it glided across His chest, then faltered when it came across something wet and warm. She recoiled instantly, stumbling backwards. Her expression changed from desire to horror as soon as she looked at her hand. His blood stained her fingers. She glanced up at Him, and He was leaning against the willow, gasping for breath, blood pouring out from numerous wounds across His body. She ran up to Him, and went to embrace the dying man but her arms went straight through Him and she stared at Him in confusion as He melted away. Just like her letters. The bark of the tree seemed to crawl over His skin, digging under the skin and absorbing His dying figure. She fell to the floor in desperation, tears streaking down her face and her body being wracked with tears. Desperation caused her to claw at her face, her nails leaving long bloody gashes. The wind suddenly picked up and blew around her in a tempest, tearing up the grass and send the table and bench spinning lethally into the air. It tore at her hair, her clothes and her skin, trying to drag her up, but she clung onto the tree. It rippled and changed under her touch, becoming sharper and harder. As suddenly as it came, the wind ceased and she was dropped in front of the willow, the hard sun-baked ground rising up to meet her. Kry looked around, shocked and bereaved, tears still flowing freely but she no longer cared. Her love had been torn away from her and she couldn’t live with out it, she was already dead. She now stood in a wasteland which bared little resemblance to the paradise which had just left. The willow was little more than a burnt, dead husk, reaching accusingly towards the sky. The river was crawling along sluggishly, nothing more than a muddy cesspit filled with waste. She was nothing but a lonely speck in this wasteland and now she had nothing else to live for. A silver knife stuck out of the willow, just in front of her. It was warm from the baking heat of the desert sun, but it came out from the dead tree easily enough. It was razor sharp, the blade honed to a deadly sliver of metal. Tears clouded her vision as she placed it beneath her left breast, angled up so to pierce her heart. His face flashed through her mind, His dying expression. And then she pushed.
Add your comment
You need to login or signup to add your comment to this work.