Posted on December 15, 2016 at 06:23:57 PM by Macabre
 learning from what sad cause he pours his tears? Love hears his ladies crying their distress, showing forth bitter sorrow through their eyes because villainous Death has worked its cruel destructive art upon a gentle heart, and laid waste all that earth can find to praise in a gracious lady, save her chastity." Years had gone by since Macabre had last step foot on Tinuvel. Several of them of in quick succession. Time had moved by so quickly yet at the same time, at a snail's pace. Macabre physically trembled when she considered ever going back. Despite the long length of time that had passed since her son's death, Shiraz was never far from the forefront of her mind. She watched others grow up, like Aillil on Paradise, and let her imagination run wild thinking of what her poor bay colt would have looked like at that age, had he been healthy. She tried not to remember him at the end, his frail figure, the way his skin hung loosely from his weak bones. She wanted to forget the painstaking staccato wheezing his breathing had become close to the end. But she could never forget the feeling of helplessness that had washed over her as her efforts to help him failed time and time again. She never wanted to remember, or relive, that period of time when she watched her son grow weaker and weaker, when she watched her son die. Macabre had never given her heart fully to anyone before, until Dexter helped usher in the greatest thing she'd ever done with her life. She'll never know what was wrong with him, or what drove him not to survive. She'll never know why she had to bear the brunt of this grief, only that the Reaper picked her because he knew it would be the ultimate torment. But years had gone by. Macabre had experienced so much since then. She held on tightly to the good and the warm things -- the kindness of friendships she'd made, the permanent hearth the Peak offered her. Aillil and Jetta and Inka and Lillith and even Vodnik in some ways. The world seemed kinder in the wake of Shiraz's death. Macabre felt stronger. So at dawn, she took to the warm currents of the ocean in summer and struck out from the Crossing Isle toward the closest island in the chain -- Tinuvel. Despite the many years, the swim felt familiar. The sand dunes looked equally so, as she hauled her petite frame from the crashing waves and onto the shoreline. The mountains were etched the same, frozen in time, jutting into the sky. But the Inlet, it seemed, was as quiet as ever. Even in the middle of summer, snow patches blanketed the higher elevations of the territory. But the land's rich and hardy vegetation was in full bloom. Macabre stopped to smell the familiar pine needles and evergreen trees. She grazed on tough brush as she meandered her way through the terrain and the many memories she'd experience here. Her heart fluttered in her chest when she thought of Dogun, the Pony King, and how kind he had been. His family had welcomed her into the herd with open arms. Her heart continued to pound as she thought of Dexter. The mare turned one corner and would suddenly be enveloped by the few happy and still-vivid memories she had of Shiraz frolicking in the snow. Before long, the rocky terrain gave way to a wooded thicket. Macabre swallowed hard as a chill ran down the length of her spine. She was close. She only stopped once she reached the spot she was looking for, a nondescript grouping of tall trees. There, among their roots, is where Shiraz had taken his last breathe. It's where Macabre had left him alone. It's where she had abandoned him, willing him to succumb to his untimely death. Warm tears gathered in her bottom eyelids until the amount of moisture became too great, and they dripped quietly down her copper-colored face. Her legs began to tremble as the emotions washed over her. She took to the hard and cold ground one knee at a time until she lowered herself completely, allowing her shoulder to press up against the trunk of the tree. "I'm so sorry, my sweet boy." She whimpered. And there she lay, sobbing and trembling until she had nothing left to spill. I saw him weeping there in human form, observing the stilled image of her grace; and more than once he raised his eyes toward Heaven, where that sweet soul already had its home, which once, on earth, had worn enchanting flesh." |
Replies:
- hanging like shadows over the sun - By DIAMANT December 31, 2016 at 04:10:58 PM
- Making love to a m e m o r y - By Macabre January 17, 2017 at 06:29:22 PM
- hanging like shadows over the sun - By DIAMANT February 2, 2017 at 01:16:55 PM
- Making love to a m e m o r y - By Macabre January 17, 2017 at 06:29:22 PM
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