FirstLineFiction beta

from Contest #9

It was the thing he'd always loved about her. The way she looked when her eyes were closed. The creamy pale skin of her face, relaxed and gentle, a facade of innocence. A peaceful aura floated around her head, almost like a halo encircling an angel. Yes, he loved her best when she was asleep. Those within sighed in contentment.

He gazed upon her closed eyes, lids so pale with a soft hue of blue; like shades drawn over windows to shut out the light or to keep hidden what was inside. The eyes were the windows to the soul. Her eyes were an average shade of brown - perhaps a warm chocolate brown; like that of a comforting and soothing hot chocolate on a cold winter's night. But her eyes could change shades without warning, like burned chocolate that had been left on the stove too long; turning hard and black and scorching anything it touched. When she was angry, looking into her eyes was the same as looking into deep dark holes, an endless circle of black absorbing the life out of all that surrounded its orbs. It was so much better for the shades to be drawn on her hollow windowed eyes, to shut in the darkness of her soul.

He shuddered and continued gazing at her face, lowering his eyes to her mouth. Her lips were a faded rose-colored pink and looked so soft. They were not drawn down in a disapproving frown or thinned in a line of anger or frustration. Nor was her mouth open and spewing all sorts of vile things. Early in their relationship, it had been a mouth that smiled and whispered sweet things to make a heart sing and a mind think of all kinds of thoughts - some appropriate and some not. She would say the most encouraging words when life was most difficult. The sound of her voice was soothing and calmed the inner turmoil. Those within listened to her and embraced her presence, but that had been before she had turned bitter and cold. He frowned in sadness.

Her transformation to bitter and resentful had been gradual. There would be an ill word here and there, a flashing of black eyes - but then all would be calm and she would be the soft and gentle girl he had fallen in love with. That she would one day stay dark and cold had never occurred to him. She was the light in his life, his soul mate, the one to understand those that lived within.

There had been long walks in the park when the falling leaves danced around their feet. They were serenaded by the leaves' edges that scraped along the shoes and pavement, rustling in the wind that carried it from place to place. The dead leaves would be disseminated like the ashes of a dead body; free to lie wherever it landed - not one resting place, but many. To have ashes, the body must be cremated. Cremation involved fire and he did not like fire. Because he did not like fire, he would not someday float in the air like the particles of dead leaves. She was angered by his analogy. Nature was offended by her obscene outburst. That was the last day that the leaves danced around her feet or played their music with their dead limbs.

They also shared the outdoors before a storm. She liked the cooling wind that would take the heat and humidity out of the day. He liked the howling wind, for it brought whispered secrets of things only spoken of before a big storm. The air would be charged with the electricity of waking spirits that would use the storm's winds to move from place to place without being noticed. Surely she felt the excitement of the possibility of being taken by a spirit and rode along in its clutches, being tossed about until the storm came into its own and disspelled the spirits and all that they carried with them. The journey could lead anywhere in search of where the spirit had been deposited so that the soul and spirit could be reunited once again. But alas, she had not experienced the excitement and was not impressed with what she had called his ramblings. Not encouraging responses for the inner self. The harshness of her voiced opinions of him made those within restless, their voices grew louder.

His eyes moved to her checks, so soft and pale. There was usually more color to her face for she wore makeup all the time. It was not that she wore a lot of makeup, only enough to give her a healthy look and glow. He thought that her best glow had come from when he made her blush. Sexual referrences always made her blush the most, a refreshing look of innocence that he enjoyed. She had not been an easy conquest, but one he considered worth pursuing nonetheless. The pursuit brought out his creativity and she seemed to enjoy the game. It started out as a cat and mouse, but became more intense with time. Like a fox in a hen house, he had been relentless with his quest until he caught his prey. Unfortunate for him that like a fox catching a hen, the caught hen would one day lay dead at the fox's feet.

Again he frowned in sadness. She had grown dissatisfied with their sexual intimacies and attempted to avoid contact whenever possible. No longer did she blush at his sexual innuendos. It appeared that once caught, she had died like a grape on a vine; which, in turn, caused him to begin to die inside as well. Those within fought to stay alive and grew more disgruntled with her.

With a heavy sigh, he recalled their trip to the beach. It was his final attempt to regain ground with her, to rekindle their romance, to soothe the turmoil of those within. The first few days were beautiful. They had lain on the beach, played in the water, had romantic dinners and walked at night on the beach. The sex was incredible and he felt alive again. Those within grew stronger and more powerful, confident in their survival. Then the storm came.

The storm came at night. He felt the electricity and heard the whispering taunts during their walk on the beach and in his excitement had told her so. She frowned, telling him not to start again. Her lack of positive emotional response to the impending storm confused him. How could she not feel what he was feeling - hear what he was hearing? The wind was whipping her hair around her face and her hands were constantly fighting it to gain control. Was that not the energy working its magic? Was that not the spirits flirting with her? She should be enjoying their attention! The anticipation of the storm to come increased the power of the voices; they knew what needed to be done.

He would show her, make her feel the excitement. Then she would know and understand and they would be truly joined and as one. He unleashed all the excitement and energy within him during their intimate time together, but it did not end as he had anticipated. Instead, she shouted insults and accusations, the fight turned physical. Those within burned with anger and condemnation. The reaction was swift. He had not meant to hurt her, only to make her be quiet. They had neighbors and he was embarrassed by how loud she had become and the horrible things she was yelling.

They had left the beach that night. He carried her sleeping form out of the hotel, telling the hotel staff that she had become ill and he was taking her home. She slept the entire trip to their home. Those within remained silent, watching and waiting.

He thought of their home, the house they shared and had worked so hard to make comfortable and pleasing. Had he not also worked hard to make her happy? Those within chimed in unison their agreement - he surely had worked like no one else would have to make a pleasing home and to please her.

Gently he carried her inside and laid her out on their bed. She was still sleeping. How tired she must have been. Perhaps that was why she had been so ugly to him, calling him such vile names. As if he could ever be what she had called him - as if he could ever have done what she had accused him of. Those within had been angry with her. Even the storm outside had grown with such intensity when she had been screaming. She was sleeping now, though; getting that much needed rest.

He eased onto the bed and positioned himself to lie facing her. All would be better in the morning. She would be the girl he had first met and fell in love with. Voices singing a soft lullaby filled his head. His eyes fluttered as he stretched out his arm toward her, his hand carressed her stone cold cheek. She looked so peaceful when she was asleep, like an angel sent down from Heaven. It was the thing he'd always loved about her.

 

 

 

 

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