A Story: The Final Flight

Raindrops. Beautiful raindrops tainted in a hateful, piercing scream.

The girl had known him for so long now. It had ended with the shutting of a coffin, and the last innocent white carnation had been laid.

She sat alone, studying the photo album walls of the tiny apartment, imagining what her twisted, breathless carcass would sound like crashing against the pavement below. But for what would it gain?

She felt trapped, a bird locked in a cage, with nowhere to go or maybe too much space. It had never felt empty when he was around. Spirits had filled the vastness of the now unfurnished, lifeless room. Her eyes moved up the cornflower blue wall, fixing on the deep red blood stain. Anger boiled in her veins as she felt the throbbing pain in her left arm. How could be have disobeyed the rules of love set out by humankind but often ignored by their thoughtlessness?

Their love had been different from others - they felt different. Late at night, they would sit in the bay window reading from their only bible - a book of William Shakespeare’s love stories. Dreaming and longing to be her Juliet, she would draw blood from her pale skinny arm and smear a heart-shaped figure across his frail chest before his lips met with the warm tantalising taste of her penetrating blood.

Rarely venturing out during the day, the pair were night children. Sleeping during the day, they believed night was the most romantic time to be out. A black nothingness spread across the sky meant freedom to them, for the most sinful and vivid things could be done when it was dark.

Remembering the time when the night was at its thickest and the moonlight was a sickly pale firefly behind a spreading blanket of ghostly grey clouds, he had taken her to the cemetery to visit the spirit of “The Dove”. He was standing on the tallest headstone, and almost like a bird, his body caressed the wind as he fell into her outstretched arms that eagerly awaited the warm throb of his blood pumping through his heart.

He had always said that to have loved but not lived was the greatest sin of humankind. After reminiscing on the elopement of their togetherness, she wandered upon the bad times. The times when he had been brutally cruel. His icy-cold voice ran up and down her spine like a bad song. A slap across the face and blood spilling rang out in her mind. He told her she had deserved it, for she had defied the rules. But what cold-blooded creature had made him go and do what he had done?

Her eyes were now fixed on the pile of crumpled-up papers in the corner. Each page told a story of someone else’s love falling to a tragic end. Each page reminded her of the times they had, dipped in a liquid so cold not even the bloodiest depths of hell could have run its hot fingers along the edges. Shakespeare’s hand had been torn into a thousand pieces. There was no reason to live by the book, for he had vanished, gone with the wind. To a better place, or so it had seemed for him.

Where was this better place?

Hunger began to develop in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t eaten for a long time now. She ached for his warmth in her stomach - he could always fill her with the salty taste of his blood. It was different to hers - almost alien.

Staying in her perfectly still position, she remained focused entirely on the bug splattered innocently across the wall. She felt like that bug. She imagined the bug’s feelings as it came to its bloody death. At that point, she could only wish she was someone or something different, with much less confusion.

Over and over again - she kept going over their time together.

For the first time in a long time, she got up from her lifeless position on the floor. The sudden urge to try something new empowered her body. She glanced at the single sheet of paper lying on the window sill. Soaked in his blood and written with the fine point of a needle that had been thrust into the depths of his last moments alive. She felt it too unbearable to read again. She already knew the words anyway. Just like a meaningless kiss, it was like a letter to the editor. Obeying everything the letter said, she re-read the tragic story of Romeo and Juliet.

Realising her task in this life, she pondered on the penalties of forcing one’s death, wondering if it really was worth it to end your life for the meaningless sake of love.

He had. One a night that was so bright - he had complained of the full moon all week as if it was burning a hole in his chest.

She had found the note a while after. By then, it was too late. He had gone to the darkest corner of the cemetery and smashed his skull between the marble and the thickness of the night air. Woken with a terrible fright, she’d dreamt of music coming from a chapel. Blood was all she could see. She was drowning in blood. A familiar taste fell on her tiny heart-shaped lips as she coughed and spluttered, holding back against the rising current. In a whirlpool, her world spun around her naked body. She pictured him singing softly, his enchanting voice pounding at her head as they sat entwined together, waiting and watching.

For what were they waiting?

Horrified by the reinforced memories, she threw the red blood-stained letter out the window along with all her thoughts. She re-focused, concentrating on the beating of her heart. The only indication that she was still alive. Scared by what her next image might be, she relaxed, closing her eyes. Slowly, peacefully she slipped into oblivion. Her nirvana becoming approachable within minutes. Relaxing. She was the bird flying over still water. Gliding.

After many tormented nights, she has reached a state of empathy.

****

Like a ship crashing, she awoke abruptly; a strange tapping sound had interrupted the flight of her dream.

He was back again.

The tiny bird carried something in his beak. Wearily sauntering over to the darkness of the window, she held out her hand. The dove dropped a lock of hair onto her sweaty outstretched palm. The dark curls that were once his fell apart in her hand as she watched the dove fly away for the last time.

The girl took one last breath as she plunged into the swirling blackness of the inviting night sky.