Each time I have that feeling, that familiar tingle, I cannot help but hold out my hand, palm up, and and curl my fingers heavenward. The glint of the gold on the finger of the heart is somewhat dimmed by the shadows cast upon it by the light playing on my fingertips. Familiar creases deepen and threaten to forever mould into my palm, canyons upon fair lands, tinged in red as the setting sun.
I stare at the sight, never shaking, deadly still hand. And I feel it. The ever so slight tingle of blood teasing my finger-tips, tickling my nerve endings, and I wonder what it is.
What is that strange sensation? Why do I feel it so? No reason is there, or is there reason where there is none?
What do I do with this, this energy ready to burst forth? For I know not how to expel it. I know not how to treat this condition, to see it through it's end.
Tell me, What will it be, with these tips to bend?
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Autumn in New York...
Is there something that can completely captivate you? "Ensnare the senses?" Something that can make you stop mid-stride on a busy street? Something that makes you pause in mid-sentence and make you forget? Forget where you are, Forget what is happening, and take you to another place?
Think.
I am sure that there is at-least one such thing for every person.
What made me ask such a question? Take a guess. Something did captivate me, ensnaring my senses and took me to another place and time.
What was it, you ask me? I'll tell you.
"I wandered, lonely as a cloud,
That floats on high, o'er vales and hills..."
There was a distinctly beautiful song playing on my i-pod, which I think was "Be here to love me" by Norah Jones, and I was enjoying my self-declared coffee break, on a cool autumn afternoon, with a particularly beautiful blend of cinnamon-flavored coffee in the wake, trying to be at peace with the world and remembering to savor my last scraps of solitude.
Shaking the mental images of impending doom at the workplace from my mind, I tried to concentrate on the coffee, trying to get my mind to relax, which I was finding increasingly hard to do. There are some days that you would want to lie down and never wake, hoping they'd instate a memorial for you, who died bravely fighting workplace pressures. This was one of those days. My stamina was steadily deteriorating, owing to the hectic work schedule, and lack of sleep, thanks to imbecilic "above the floor" neighbors and a nagging sense of responsibility for my own demise. I wanted to just close my eyes and pretend it was a bad dream. Didn't work.
I sighed and decided that peace was a little hard to get right now, and leaned back on the cold metal seats that adorn the sides of the little stone pathway leading back to my personal hell. I needed a break. I felt like laughing out loud. A break? Damn it! You just had a summer break. What in the name of Merlin and Salazar are you talking about? It is just the first week of work and you're ready to drop dead? I chided myself for being such a coward. After all, I was not the only one in this boat. I felt a little better, knowing that I would not be alone in this. A deep breath and I felt practically normal.
Sipping the remnants of the coffee and letting the warm liquid gently soothe my aching throat, I settled back into my seat and glanced around, amusing myself with the behavior of overly-greedy pigeons, when I actually paid attention to the surroundings that I passed through every day, without so much as a cursory glance.
I was surprised at how ignorant we could be, not noticing the little beautiful things around us. The little things that would make things seem so much better for the moment.
I could not take my eyes off the sight. The afternoon sun lazily tickling the fall-tinged leaves on sleepy trees. The wind, blowing fallen leaves around gently, as if trying to help them remember how it was to be above the ground, fluttering in the playful breeze, how it was to be alive. The rays of golden that seemed to be drawn tight as rope, binding the earth and the sky, upheld by the strong branches of tall, proud trees. It made me smile and a content sigh escaped my lips, which were parted ever so slightly at the wonder that lay before me.
How long I sat there, I don't remember, but why I sat there, not caring about the time that passed, not caring if anyone watched my fixed gaze, not caring if I had to leave.
Not caring if I was in this world or the next.
When I finally forced myself out of my reverie, the rays of bright gold had dimmed and my coffee had long since gone cold.
Think.
I am sure that there is at-least one such thing for every person.
What made me ask such a question? Take a guess. Something did captivate me, ensnaring my senses and took me to another place and time.
What was it, you ask me? I'll tell you.
"I wandered, lonely as a cloud,
That floats on high, o'er vales and hills..."
There was a distinctly beautiful song playing on my i-pod, which I think was "Be here to love me" by Norah Jones, and I was enjoying my self-declared coffee break, on a cool autumn afternoon, with a particularly beautiful blend of cinnamon-flavored coffee in the wake, trying to be at peace with the world and remembering to savor my last scraps of solitude.
Shaking the mental images of impending doom at the workplace from my mind, I tried to concentrate on the coffee, trying to get my mind to relax, which I was finding increasingly hard to do. There are some days that you would want to lie down and never wake, hoping they'd instate a memorial for you, who died bravely fighting workplace pressures. This was one of those days. My stamina was steadily deteriorating, owing to the hectic work schedule, and lack of sleep, thanks to imbecilic "above the floor" neighbors and a nagging sense of responsibility for my own demise. I wanted to just close my eyes and pretend it was a bad dream. Didn't work.
I sighed and decided that peace was a little hard to get right now, and leaned back on the cold metal seats that adorn the sides of the little stone pathway leading back to my personal hell. I needed a break. I felt like laughing out loud. A break? Damn it! You just had a summer break. What in the name of Merlin and Salazar are you talking about? It is just the first week of work and you're ready to drop dead? I chided myself for being such a coward. After all, I was not the only one in this boat. I felt a little better, knowing that I would not be alone in this. A deep breath and I felt practically normal.
Sipping the remnants of the coffee and letting the warm liquid gently soothe my aching throat, I settled back into my seat and glanced around, amusing myself with the behavior of overly-greedy pigeons, when I actually paid attention to the surroundings that I passed through every day, without so much as a cursory glance.
I was surprised at how ignorant we could be, not noticing the little beautiful things around us. The little things that would make things seem so much better for the moment.
I could not take my eyes off the sight. The afternoon sun lazily tickling the fall-tinged leaves on sleepy trees. The wind, blowing fallen leaves around gently, as if trying to help them remember how it was to be above the ground, fluttering in the playful breeze, how it was to be alive. The rays of golden that seemed to be drawn tight as rope, binding the earth and the sky, upheld by the strong branches of tall, proud trees. It made me smile and a content sigh escaped my lips, which were parted ever so slightly at the wonder that lay before me.
How long I sat there, I don't remember, but why I sat there, not caring about the time that passed, not caring if anyone watched my fixed gaze, not caring if I had to leave.
Not caring if I was in this world or the next.
When I finally forced myself out of my reverie, the rays of bright gold had dimmed and my coffee had long since gone cold.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
A minute to a day
There are several things we fail to notice. And when we do, we wonder why do we ever worry about "greater things in life," but then we always worry.
The wonderful feel of the fresh air on our faces, the gently fierce wind. The feel of soft grass beneath naked feet, the warm glow of light to draw shadows on the walls. The warm fuzziness of the thick comforter on a cold night. The wonderful flow of silky hair through our fingers.
The grace of a slow-dancing flickering candle flame, the feel of warm coffee flowing down the throat on a cool evening. The wonderful chill of cold water in our mouths on a warm day.
The crispness of fresh snow under boots.
Warm glowing feeling when you do something nice for someone, or someone does for you.
Laying down to sleep after a tiring day, and waking up with that lazy feeling on a weekend.
Having nothing to do for a few hours.
Reading novels when you should be reading textbooks, just for a few stolen hours.
The tickle of the carpet when you walk around without shoes.
Smelling a wonderful meal from the door when you come home after a day of hard work.
Getting so much as an appreciative nod for something you put your heart into.
Smiling when someone lies to you, just because the lie makes you smile.
I will go on when I can, but for now my greatest pleasure is sitting back in a chair, feet bare on soft carpet, in a comfortably warm room.
There are my favorite songs playing in my ear and the cinnamon dolce latte has left a wonderful warmth in my chest and the faint smell of magnolia blossoms tenderly floats around.
I only sink lower in my chair and give way to a relaxation I can enjoy for sometime without worrying too much.
The wonderful feel of the fresh air on our faces, the gently fierce wind. The feel of soft grass beneath naked feet, the warm glow of light to draw shadows on the walls. The warm fuzziness of the thick comforter on a cold night. The wonderful flow of silky hair through our fingers.
The grace of a slow-dancing flickering candle flame, the feel of warm coffee flowing down the throat on a cool evening. The wonderful chill of cold water in our mouths on a warm day.
The crispness of fresh snow under boots.
Warm glowing feeling when you do something nice for someone, or someone does for you.
Laying down to sleep after a tiring day, and waking up with that lazy feeling on a weekend.
Having nothing to do for a few hours.
Reading novels when you should be reading textbooks, just for a few stolen hours.
The tickle of the carpet when you walk around without shoes.
Smelling a wonderful meal from the door when you come home after a day of hard work.
Getting so much as an appreciative nod for something you put your heart into.
Smiling when someone lies to you, just because the lie makes you smile.
I will go on when I can, but for now my greatest pleasure is sitting back in a chair, feet bare on soft carpet, in a comfortably warm room.
There are my favorite songs playing in my ear and the cinnamon dolce latte has left a wonderful warmth in my chest and the faint smell of magnolia blossoms tenderly floats around.
I only sink lower in my chair and give way to a relaxation I can enjoy for sometime without worrying too much.
Cruel Caresses
The trees bow their heads in despair, as the wind rages over them, crushing, tearing and hurting. The anger is not unexpected. The wind was always the same. It was only time before the wind learned to calm down. Too many times the wind had destroyed before realizing the extent of ruination. It was never happy times at that. Too much too soon, never to come back. And yet the wind raged now.
They cried with crimson, cinnamon and lemon hues as the wind shrieked and tore at them, ripping the leaves and throwing them carelessly around. The pain would subside. The trees gave up trying to stop the colorful tears, let them flow.
On and on, the wind went on, making everyone who could, run for safety, for no one was safe when the wind was in a temper such as this.
Tentatively the trees touched the wind softly, gingerly brushing against the wind, waiting for a reaction. A rustle. A gentle response. The wind was ready to be calmed now. He accepted the caress.
The temper subsided, slow and steady, and the scorned lover gave in to the touches and the simple pleas. The wind slowed down and touched back, caressing away the pain the wind was responsible for. Wind's way of apologizing without breaking stride, so smooth and soundless. The wind embraced the resigned trees to gently sway them, whispering sweet words that only they could hear. This was only for now, before the wind was wild again, but it was for now.
The trees respond, and a gentle rocking of the branches ensues, making a peaceful harmony.
All is well for now...
They cried with crimson, cinnamon and lemon hues as the wind shrieked and tore at them, ripping the leaves and throwing them carelessly around. The pain would subside. The trees gave up trying to stop the colorful tears, let them flow.
On and on, the wind went on, making everyone who could, run for safety, for no one was safe when the wind was in a temper such as this.
Tentatively the trees touched the wind softly, gingerly brushing against the wind, waiting for a reaction. A rustle. A gentle response. The wind was ready to be calmed now. He accepted the caress.
The temper subsided, slow and steady, and the scorned lover gave in to the touches and the simple pleas. The wind slowed down and touched back, caressing away the pain the wind was responsible for. Wind's way of apologizing without breaking stride, so smooth and soundless. The wind embraced the resigned trees to gently sway them, whispering sweet words that only they could hear. This was only for now, before the wind was wild again, but it was for now.
The trees respond, and a gentle rocking of the branches ensues, making a peaceful harmony.
All is well for now...
Monday, September 3, 2007
The End of Summer
Sorry People. Just a phase I assure you. I never intended it to be as mushy as it turned out, but it did. So, apologies from my side.
He walked, out into the open. He couldn't stay inside anymore. The house was too large for him. It smothered him. Absently he walked toward the surrounding woods, arms wrapped around himself, the evening was cold. A single tear rolled down his cheek, but he angrily shook it away. No, he would not allow himself to cry.
The weather suggested it was time to end summer. The wind howled around him, as he curiously looked at these things below him that were taking him somewhere. "Stop," he willed them, "Stop. Where are you taking me?" But his feet would not listen, they did not answer him. It was as if the trees moved aside to let him pass. It took him sometime to realize he had wandered far from his home. "Home? What home?" he thought, and then, threw his head back and laughed hysterically.
He was there. This was the place where his life had begun. The fountain of his life. He glanced around. It was not the same anymore. Never again. The water seemed to beckon him, call out to him. "What?" he asked the water, "what do you ask from me? I have nothing to give you."
A voice inside his head told him to go to the water. He did. He didn't have the energy to argue.
Quietly, he knelt by the lake and absently stroked the surface. There was someone in there, he thought, and he did not disturb the water anymore, and waited for the turbulence to recede. The he curiously peered into the water. In the dull light of the evening, he saw someone there.
The man had a drawn face, and dark patches under his eyes, and his face was wet with tears that fell from his tired, reddened eyes. He strangely looked familiar. That man seemed as if he had aged in a hurry. "Who are you?" he asked in his head. It took a while for the reply to run through his head. "You," it simply read.
He sat there and stared at his reflection. "Narcissist," his mind told him, "what are you looking at yourself for?"
"I'm not looking at me," he spoke aloud, "that man looks like he lost some... something- that was precious to his heart. I wonder what could be?" He smiled and the man smiled back at him, with a look of pain.
"Show me." It was all he heard himself say, to no one in particular, eyes wandering to the opposite bank, and beyond, into the darkening woods, before slipping away.
He sat at the same glade, but only on the bench that overlooked the water. He was not alone. Glancing down, he saw a face, on a head resting in his lap. She looked so contented, a small smile playing on her lips. He absently pushed an erring lock of hair from her forehead and let his hand rest there awhile, before moving to stroke her beautiful auburn hair. She was amazing. So tender and so beautiful. She opened her eyes in response to his movements, and he found himself looking into the most beautiful brown eyes he had ever seen. They danced with glee and mocked him. He saw his reflection in those eyes, and realised he had been smiling gently, as if at a child. His gray eyes were alight with happiness.
"What?" She asked, in mock annoyance, before taking his hand and kissing it gently, before letting it rest on her neck.
"You're the most beautiful person I have ever seen," He said, drawing his free hand to gently stroke her fair, oh so soft, cheek. She grinned, revealing pearly white teeth, and said "I know. You keep telling me."
She swung her legs off the bench and moved to settle in his arms, snuggling into his warm chest, loving the velvet feel of his shirt, inhaling the intoxicating cologne he wore. "You smell wonderful," she murmured, not realising that he had buried his face in her wonderful silky hair, inhaling the faint floral scent of her, that always drove his mad. He tightened his embrace and sighed.
"Promise we will be together, forever, " she softly spoke, head pressing ever so slightly into his chest. He placed his forefinger under her chin, and raised her face to his. He took a moment to take in her face, the fine raised cheekbones, the wonderful eyes that seemed to always mock him, the beautiful lips that had just spoken in an angel's voice. "I promise," he said, gently bringing her face forward, moving in to lightly touch her lips with his own. He was drowning in those eyes, those eyes that seemed to hold the secrets to the world...
They were sitting at the dining table, sitting across each other, the long table between them filled with silver platters filled with delicious looking food, gleaming in the flickering light of the candles all around. Everything had such a warm glow to it, especially her face. There she sat, radiant in her simple black dress and around her neck, was a single strand of pearls, which she seemed to playfully twist, as she picked at her food. She looked up to find his eyes studying her, pride in his face, a smile on his lips. She returned his smile and then her gaze moved to the window, overlooking the magnificent gardens that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see, dully lit by the light of the moon. She caught her breath at the sight. She held her gaze for a long time, evidently not noticing he stood and walked over to stand behind her, following her gaze.
She gave a small start, when he gently placed his hand on her bare shoulder, to bring her back. She turned her head to see him smiling down at her. "Beautiful, isn't it?" he asked her.
"Yes, very," she said, before placing her hand on his own.
"Let's dance," he said.
"But there is no music," she said, laughing playfully.
"There is now," he clapped his hands enough to be heard beyond the room, and a string quartet started almost immediately, from some part of the house.
"You never cease to surprise me," she smiled as she placed her hand in his and allowed herself to be led to the wide floor beside the table. They danced slowly, quietly revolving on the spot and she moved her head to settle in the crook of his neck, her arms circling him, and resting on his back, while he brought his arms to rest on the small of her back. He didn't know how long they had danced, not that he cared. This seemed to be so perfect.
"Will you promise never to be apart from me?" He whispered in her ear.
She murmured into his shoulder, "Yes, I promise."
He gently withdrew from her, enough to face her.
Her eyes roamed his face, and she broke into a small smile.
"Then marry me." She seemed surprised for a moment, but then her face glowed even brighter and she gave him the most wonderful smile.
"Yes," she said simply.
He withdrew his hand and brought it between them, slowly opening it. A small gasp escaped her lips as she saw what he held. A beautiful ring, shaped like a curled serpent, studded with diamonds and emeralds all around, was gleaming in his palm.
He slowly took her left hand and placed the ring on her third finger.
"It's a family heirloom," he said, looking into her eyes, "my mother asked me to give it to the woman, whom I loved more than anything in the world. You complete me. "
Her eyes glistened in the light of the candles, making them even more beautiful than he had ever seen them.
"Thank you," she said, smiling and crying at the same time.
He was drowning in those tear-filled beautiful eyes, shining like stars in the sky...
He was sitting by her bedside, holding her hand. Something was wrong. Her face was drawn and pale, almost white. Yet she was so beautiful, so captivating. Her hands were almost only bones and she was so small that she hardly seemed to exist. He felt hot tears streaming down his face. He took her hand and placed it on his cheek, weeping silently. She smiled at him and struggled to sit up. He held her and raised her. She slumped into his arms, not having the strength to support herself. He could not help himself and shuddered as he wept into her beautiful hair, even though there was hardly any. Still he felt that floral scent.
"I'll miss you," she said, into his ear.
"Don't say that..." she cut him off.
"I love you. " He withdrew her head gently to kiss her face, her eyes, her cheeks, her forehead and her chin, before resting his lips on hers.
"I love you," he told her after a while, "please don't go..."
She only smiled, and he felt his heart lurch painfully in his chest. "I have to," she said simply.
She looked at him once, her eyes tired, yet mocking him. And then embraced him, with some strength. He sat there, a long time, till he felt her breathing steadily slow down, and then stop.
"No!" he screamed. "You can't die!" he said more softly, but realised that she was gone. His life, his love, his equal. Gone.
He felt hands on his shoulders trying to draw him away from her. "No!" he shouted, he was not going to let her go! He pushed the hands away. It was Death, he knew, come to take her away. He was not going to let go! She was his! He held on to her tightly, and then felt a prick on his arm. Slowly, he felt himself slipping away. He tried desperately not to, but he couldn't help it. He saw her, floating away, her face the same as it was when they shared their vows, she was wearing a beautiful white gown, flowers in her hair, holding a single white rose, but she was sleeping, and floating so far far away....
He found himself lying on the banks of the lake, it was pitch dark all around. He wondered how long he had lain there, but was unable to answer. He lay back and closed his eyes, and wept, his body shuddering with every sob he tried to stop from escaping his lips. In the end he let out a small cry of agony, his heart painfully throbbing in his chest, and his face wet with what was like the rest of his soul.
He staggered to his feet, his body felt like he bore the world on his shoulders. He struggled with each step he took, back to the house. "No, it's our home," he chided himself and walked on. He stepped through the door, and led himself to the study. There was a fire burning in the fireplace, throwing eerie shapes onto the walls covered in book-cases.
"She loved to sit here an read for hours," he remembered. This was her favourite place. He sat down in the armchair in front of the fireplace, and drew his feet under him. He stared into the fire, listlessly, seeing her face in the dancing flames, till the fire burned out, and he fell asleep in the chair.
She was gone.
He walked, out into the open. He couldn't stay inside anymore. The house was too large for him. It smothered him. Absently he walked toward the surrounding woods, arms wrapped around himself, the evening was cold. A single tear rolled down his cheek, but he angrily shook it away. No, he would not allow himself to cry.
The weather suggested it was time to end summer. The wind howled around him, as he curiously looked at these things below him that were taking him somewhere. "Stop," he willed them, "Stop. Where are you taking me?" But his feet would not listen, they did not answer him. It was as if the trees moved aside to let him pass. It took him sometime to realize he had wandered far from his home. "Home? What home?" he thought, and then, threw his head back and laughed hysterically.
He was there. This was the place where his life had begun. The fountain of his life. He glanced around. It was not the same anymore. Never again. The water seemed to beckon him, call out to him. "What?" he asked the water, "what do you ask from me? I have nothing to give you."
A voice inside his head told him to go to the water. He did. He didn't have the energy to argue.
Quietly, he knelt by the lake and absently stroked the surface. There was someone in there, he thought, and he did not disturb the water anymore, and waited for the turbulence to recede. The he curiously peered into the water. In the dull light of the evening, he saw someone there.
The man had a drawn face, and dark patches under his eyes, and his face was wet with tears that fell from his tired, reddened eyes. He strangely looked familiar. That man seemed as if he had aged in a hurry. "Who are you?" he asked in his head. It took a while for the reply to run through his head. "You," it simply read.
He sat there and stared at his reflection. "Narcissist," his mind told him, "what are you looking at yourself for?"
"I'm not looking at me," he spoke aloud, "that man looks like he lost some... something- that was precious to his heart. I wonder what could be?" He smiled and the man smiled back at him, with a look of pain.
"Show me." It was all he heard himself say, to no one in particular, eyes wandering to the opposite bank, and beyond, into the darkening woods, before slipping away.
He sat at the same glade, but only on the bench that overlooked the water. He was not alone. Glancing down, he saw a face, on a head resting in his lap. She looked so contented, a small smile playing on her lips. He absently pushed an erring lock of hair from her forehead and let his hand rest there awhile, before moving to stroke her beautiful auburn hair. She was amazing. So tender and so beautiful. She opened her eyes in response to his movements, and he found himself looking into the most beautiful brown eyes he had ever seen. They danced with glee and mocked him. He saw his reflection in those eyes, and realised he had been smiling gently, as if at a child. His gray eyes were alight with happiness.
"What?" She asked, in mock annoyance, before taking his hand and kissing it gently, before letting it rest on her neck.
"You're the most beautiful person I have ever seen," He said, drawing his free hand to gently stroke her fair, oh so soft, cheek. She grinned, revealing pearly white teeth, and said "I know. You keep telling me."
She swung her legs off the bench and moved to settle in his arms, snuggling into his warm chest, loving the velvet feel of his shirt, inhaling the intoxicating cologne he wore. "You smell wonderful," she murmured, not realising that he had buried his face in her wonderful silky hair, inhaling the faint floral scent of her, that always drove his mad. He tightened his embrace and sighed.
"Promise we will be together, forever, " she softly spoke, head pressing ever so slightly into his chest. He placed his forefinger under her chin, and raised her face to his. He took a moment to take in her face, the fine raised cheekbones, the wonderful eyes that seemed to always mock him, the beautiful lips that had just spoken in an angel's voice. "I promise," he said, gently bringing her face forward, moving in to lightly touch her lips with his own. He was drowning in those eyes, those eyes that seemed to hold the secrets to the world...
They were sitting at the dining table, sitting across each other, the long table between them filled with silver platters filled with delicious looking food, gleaming in the flickering light of the candles all around. Everything had such a warm glow to it, especially her face. There she sat, radiant in her simple black dress and around her neck, was a single strand of pearls, which she seemed to playfully twist, as she picked at her food. She looked up to find his eyes studying her, pride in his face, a smile on his lips. She returned his smile and then her gaze moved to the window, overlooking the magnificent gardens that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see, dully lit by the light of the moon. She caught her breath at the sight. She held her gaze for a long time, evidently not noticing he stood and walked over to stand behind her, following her gaze.
She gave a small start, when he gently placed his hand on her bare shoulder, to bring her back. She turned her head to see him smiling down at her. "Beautiful, isn't it?" he asked her.
"Yes, very," she said, before placing her hand on his own.
"Let's dance," he said.
"But there is no music," she said, laughing playfully.
"There is now," he clapped his hands enough to be heard beyond the room, and a string quartet started almost immediately, from some part of the house.
"You never cease to surprise me," she smiled as she placed her hand in his and allowed herself to be led to the wide floor beside the table. They danced slowly, quietly revolving on the spot and she moved her head to settle in the crook of his neck, her arms circling him, and resting on his back, while he brought his arms to rest on the small of her back. He didn't know how long they had danced, not that he cared. This seemed to be so perfect.
"Will you promise never to be apart from me?" He whispered in her ear.
She murmured into his shoulder, "Yes, I promise."
He gently withdrew from her, enough to face her.
Her eyes roamed his face, and she broke into a small smile.
"Then marry me." She seemed surprised for a moment, but then her face glowed even brighter and she gave him the most wonderful smile.
"Yes," she said simply.
He withdrew his hand and brought it between them, slowly opening it. A small gasp escaped her lips as she saw what he held. A beautiful ring, shaped like a curled serpent, studded with diamonds and emeralds all around, was gleaming in his palm.
He slowly took her left hand and placed the ring on her third finger.
"It's a family heirloom," he said, looking into her eyes, "my mother asked me to give it to the woman, whom I loved more than anything in the world. You complete me. "
Her eyes glistened in the light of the candles, making them even more beautiful than he had ever seen them.
"Thank you," she said, smiling and crying at the same time.
He was drowning in those tear-filled beautiful eyes, shining like stars in the sky...
He was sitting by her bedside, holding her hand. Something was wrong. Her face was drawn and pale, almost white. Yet she was so beautiful, so captivating. Her hands were almost only bones and she was so small that she hardly seemed to exist. He felt hot tears streaming down his face. He took her hand and placed it on his cheek, weeping silently. She smiled at him and struggled to sit up. He held her and raised her. She slumped into his arms, not having the strength to support herself. He could not help himself and shuddered as he wept into her beautiful hair, even though there was hardly any. Still he felt that floral scent.
"I'll miss you," she said, into his ear.
"Don't say that..." she cut him off.
"I love you. " He withdrew her head gently to kiss her face, her eyes, her cheeks, her forehead and her chin, before resting his lips on hers.
"I love you," he told her after a while, "please don't go..."
She only smiled, and he felt his heart lurch painfully in his chest. "I have to," she said simply.
She looked at him once, her eyes tired, yet mocking him. And then embraced him, with some strength. He sat there, a long time, till he felt her breathing steadily slow down, and then stop.
"No!" he screamed. "You can't die!" he said more softly, but realised that she was gone. His life, his love, his equal. Gone.
He felt hands on his shoulders trying to draw him away from her. "No!" he shouted, he was not going to let her go! He pushed the hands away. It was Death, he knew, come to take her away. He was not going to let go! She was his! He held on to her tightly, and then felt a prick on his arm. Slowly, he felt himself slipping away. He tried desperately not to, but he couldn't help it. He saw her, floating away, her face the same as it was when they shared their vows, she was wearing a beautiful white gown, flowers in her hair, holding a single white rose, but she was sleeping, and floating so far far away....
He found himself lying on the banks of the lake, it was pitch dark all around. He wondered how long he had lain there, but was unable to answer. He lay back and closed his eyes, and wept, his body shuddering with every sob he tried to stop from escaping his lips. In the end he let out a small cry of agony, his heart painfully throbbing in his chest, and his face wet with what was like the rest of his soul.
He staggered to his feet, his body felt like he bore the world on his shoulders. He struggled with each step he took, back to the house. "No, it's our home," he chided himself and walked on. He stepped through the door, and led himself to the study. There was a fire burning in the fireplace, throwing eerie shapes onto the walls covered in book-cases.
"She loved to sit here an read for hours," he remembered. This was her favourite place. He sat down in the armchair in front of the fireplace, and drew his feet under him. He stared into the fire, listlessly, seeing her face in the dancing flames, till the fire burned out, and he fell asleep in the chair.
She was gone.
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