I noticed him lying there, in between the clover and the dampened earth. He was only a mere mirror image of who he once was. I wanted to save him, and restore him to his original state. But it seemed that the truth had sucked the life right out of his chest. Over time, it had appeared that the map, the course set for his life, really had changed; or had he read it wrong to begin with?
Memories of her began to fill his heart and head once more. She had been the loveliest woman he had ever known. Her skin was always soft and warm, like a silk blanket covered with the faintest hint of her perfume. But deep down in the dungeon of his worn out soul, he knew what he had done. He could still picture the two halves of her dress, left frayed and worn. He had been consumed by fear that night so very long ago, and he remembered standing as still as the dark night above him while he watched as the moon exploded. She had hurriedly dressed, then wept as the music faded away. An uncertain destiny awaited, for now, they had no other choice.
Holding her gaze briefly from across the room, he knew she was no longer his. As she rushed out into an unknown future, she became transfixed by all the wondrous lights, and never even noticed that he was still there. A steady breeze of newfound potential guided her along, while he kept his hands in his pockets, nervously playing with his keys. And suddenly his future hopes and dreams began to fade as the old trusty door to his future began to melt against the corroding brass frame. He wondered if it was all a glitch or just his imagination. Droplets of sweat began to fall from his brow as he remembered back to how the blade had glistened, and venom seemed to pour from his eyes, as poisoned tears filled his invisible cup. He drank the last drop, then plummeted into a sea of depression. Decompression arrived quickly after the window to his hopes blew out.
She began to see nothing except heavenly creatures, all of whom featured boldly in her dreams. She had changed and now reeked of sugary sweets, her teeth giving away her disguise. Fishnet stockings were a pleasant surprise to all the new men in her life, and an eruption of presents could be seen as each one bribed her for the countless pleasures they knew she’d provide. In the end, only a half-eaten muffin and a spoon remained; mere remnants of another morning that meant nothing. She snickered as she ran away from all of them until she noticed what was behind her. She couldn’t escape the truth; it had finally captured her soul.
The last bell chimed, and not even the crickets could be heard, as she watched the floating orb hover over the painting above the hearth. And suddenly both he and her remembered the planter boxes of peculiar looking pansies, the ones that once lined the odd shaped path which had led them to each other. And then they both finally noticed the secret, entombed inside the jar of honey. It clearly held the key to all their torment, something they had never once allowed themselves to see.
© 2018 Michelle Cook
I had quite a bit of fun writing this short story, which is a combination of all of the December writing prompts. Hope you enjoyed it! ~M 😉
To read the prompts, click here.
Her Writing Haven 