Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Weekly Wednesday: "A Smile Upon Eyes" and "A Frown Upon Tears"

"A Smile Upon Eyes"

A Short Story

It was less subtle than it all seemed; everything about the situation appeared serene and perfect. Well, it was perfect. As much as even I disagree with the possibility of perfection, this was the very definition. If one looked closely enough he would notice their trembling hands and an almost unnoticeable quivering of their lips. They stood in remarkable silence. His hands held hers. Her eyes held his.
          The night was dark and chilly as autumn nights tended to be. Every other minute a tranquil breeze would sweep through the meadow in which they were standing. Even though the true beauty of this environment is best observed during the day at high noon when the rays of the sun show off the brightly colored leaves of the low cut grass and surrounding trees and when the heat of the bright celestial body collides with the intermittent breeze, the beauty seen this night was between this couple. Her breathtaking eyes (eyes that only for him would keep focus)… His heartwarming smile (a smile that only for her would be shown)…
          They remained in silence for many minutes, standing while shivering at every breeze and involuntarily smiling at every second. With an evident romance in the air, a passionate kiss might be expected to have been observed.
          “I’m cold,” she whispered quietly.
          He put one arm around her at a time and pulled her into a hug, his warming embrace.

by MFW III

"A Frown Upon Tears"

A Short Story

“Wait for me…”
Tears surged from his eyes like never before. They streamed down his cheeks, and he felt the redness of his face like the heat of a fire. His lips moved without any escaping sounds while his hands searched the empty air around him for something, anything. There was nothing. The darkness that encompassed him was just that.
All happiness and joy escaped with his Love. All hope followed suit. He sucked in the dull air and let it out with noiseless gasps. Everything was kept within, save his tears. Agony, despair, and misery filled his every being until he finally erupted.
He screamed a pained roar into the blackness. There was no echo or reply. The latter was the least expected, anyway. This time when he inhaled it was loud and aggrieved. His exhale was slow, but audible. Tears were accompanied with little sniffs and unsteady breathing. If hell wasn’t a fire, then this was surely the next viable option. At the moment, it was worse than a fire.
Arms continued to move and his hands searched the void until they found something. He grabbed the object, which caused him a moment of pain. He winced and withdrew his hand from the object. Left with a small tinge of pain, his hand felt damp. After bringing his hand to his nose, he sniffed. It was blood. Just then he wanted more. He reached for the object again, carefully this time. He found it and discovered its handle. It was a small pocketknife.
With all of his emotions flowing aggressively through his body, he took the knife to his wrist and dragged. His self-inflicted wound was deep and blood slowly flowed. After a minute he couldn’t feel his hand. He felt drained, not from the loss of blood, but from his over empowering feelings.
A noise sounded in front of him. It sounded like a whisper. Wind came from nowhere and passed him over. He felt a strong chill and suddenly he was freezing.
“I’m cold,” he remembered a soft voice whisper once.
A noise sounded once again. He moved toward it.
“Love?” he asked the darkness. There was no reply, but after he spoke, he could see. Everything was still black, but somehow he could see. Her form stood only a few feet away. He fell to his knees. Once his knees hit the ground, he felt his pants soak with blood.
She walked calmly toward him and reached out her hand. He took it and felt the warmth emanating from her skin. He tried to pull himself up, but failed when his hand slipped from hers. His blood was left on her hand. She knelt in front of him and took his body into her arms.
“It’s okay. I’m here,” she said. She took her shirt off to cover his wound. She bound it tight to stop the flow. “It’s okay. I’ve got you."

by MFW III

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