It was the deepest of dark on the darkest of nights. A soft mist covers the ground, interrupted only by his footsteps. His eyes stare straight forward as he makes his way through the tombstones. The trees tower above him allowing just slivers of moonlight to slip through. Clouds slide across the night sky, covering the moon in their shadows. The scent of oncoming rain is in the air, and the mist is getting thicker. He moves almost silently through the trees and the gravemarkers that surround him towards the clearing where he knows she is waiting. He has never been able to hold her in his arms. His heart is pounding in anticipation. She watches him from afar. Her ebony eyes watch his feet gliding forward. It feels like he is walking so slowly, yet he has purpose in his stride. She can hear the faint clanking of his chains he wears as he draws nearer to her. The sound echoes, seeming so loud in the quiet of the night. Her eyes travel from his feet walking along the grassy hillside towards his face slowly.
She can't quite make out his clothing, because he is clad in black. The scarce moonlight sends glints of silver to her eyes. Obscure chains of silver metal fall from him in cold hard lines, glints of his padlocks shining brighter than the rest. Even his hands sparkle. She smiles as her gaze focuses on his finger armor. She has imagined him, so often, sliding the sharp tips across her flesh, drawing light lines of blood. She can see the distinct angles in his face, shadowed by his surroundings. Her flowing skirt shivers in the wind, billowing outwards slightly. The tank top that she wears offers no protection. She sits. The dew that has collected on the grass clings to the flesh of her arms and the leather of her boots. He feels her eyes on him and glances up sharply. She shivers from the cool, crisp wind that is whipping her hair across her shoulders, but also from the coldness of his stare. Then, a spark of recognition, and his gaze softens considerably. The moon shines on her hair. Her expression is fully vulnerable... It usually is. The fire in his eyes seems to warm her and the night air seems chill no longer. She rises and walks to meet him.
Not a sound is heard as they come together. His arms envelope her immediately. Tears spring to her eyes within moments because she is now in the very place where she has longed to be night after night before this. She looks up into his eyes. He brushes her tears away and then brings his forehead to hers, closing his eyes and savoring the moment. He touches his lips to hers. Tenderly. Gently. His arms tighten, almost unwilling to let go. He whispers soft words in her ear as he holds her in his arms. They sit on the grass. He wraps his arm around her shoulder, holding her tightly against his body. She sighs against him, her flow of tears slowing. He kisses her hand and smiles.
The next few hours pass in a blur...
She shivers. He wraps his jacket around her shoulders. She cries. He wipes away her tears while his eyes become misted as well. She laughs. He relishes the sound as it echoes throughout the graveyard. She smiles. It brightens up his world.
He pulls her closer. Her heart skips a beat. He kisses her lips. It sends chills down her spine. He looks at her. His eyes burn into hers so deeply it takes her breath away.
They talk for hours upon hours. They try to pretend that she isn't leaving in just a few hours. They try to act normally, however unsuccessfully they do so. Neither notice that the mist is slowly drifting away. Neither notice the pink of the sky beyond the mountains. They notice only each other and the stolen time they have together.
---
She wakes up from her dream, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she lets the emotions that carried over from her subconscious wash over her. She looks over at her alarm clock. The glowing red numbers glare unforgivingly in her eyes as she reads. She isn't surprised to find that it is only three o'clock in the morning. She is surprised that she had drifted off at all, though.
'He is coming in a week and a half,' she thinks to herself. She sits up and stretches her sore muscles, then mutters, "Definately not soon enough." She climbs out of bed, walking aimlessly to her computer. She checks her e-mail, more out of habit than anything else. Nothing but junk mail. Nothing from him. She didn't really expect anything, but her heart still drops in disappointment. She turns off the glowing monitor and turns on her light. She looks over at her reflection in the mirror and laughs when she sees how her hair is wanting to stick up in every direction that exists. She grabs a brush and sits on her unmade bed as she brushes her hair, taming it as much as she can before actually getting in the shower.
She showers quickly, then returns to her room in a towel just to put on another pair of pajama pants and another tank top. She doesn't think there is much point in getting dressed at three thirty in the morning. She lays back on her bed thinking about him, wishing that the next week would pass by quickly.
---
He wakes up in the middle of the night without even seeming to know why. He closes his eyes again, trying to go back to sleep, but is unable. He groans and lifts his head from the pillow, looking over at his clock. Three o'clock. What the...? He groans again and lays his head back down. He tries to remember what he had been dreaming about, thinking that maybe it had something to do with why he woke up. He can only remember little pieces, but he remembers that it had something to do with her. No wonder why he woke up. He keeps his eyes closed and turns on his back with his hands underneath his head. A grin plays across his lips as he thinks about her. He imagines her hair.. her eyes.. her smile..
Copyright ©2003: Megan E. Dickerson