Sta.sh
Talking, the continuance to Him
Time had passed slowly, and now she watched as the sun gradually melted its way into the sky. The rays of light streaked out against the darkness, and created columns of warmth. She lay there on the green dew covered grass as the sun melted into the brightening sky. She watched as the stars disappeared, and the sky turned blue.
It would be now or never, she would have to go back now. She would have to talk to Him. No not talk, act. She almost dreaded what he would say-or do. A strange excitement filled her, she already had a plan and she would stick to it. She picked herself up. The damp moist ground and clung to her cloths and had started seeping into bones. A small drop of water fell from her nose; it reminded her of another time.
He was there; his arms encircled her holding her. She was warm in his arms; the cloth of his shirt rubbed against her cheek. Her still wet hair dripped slowly onto him, still he didn't move.
The thought made her warm now as she walked through the wet woods. Then he had gone too far ;No she wouldn't think about that now. She had already forgiven Him. It wasn't his fault;she delicately made her way through the still green trees, she would stop thinking. She would start acting. She came upon the clearing the one where he had held her.
All her thoughts stopped when she saw Him, he was already there. He was sitting on a log, looking at her. Her mouth dropped open a little, then she closed it had took a deep breath. He started to talk. No! She wasn't her to talk! She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to hear his excuses. She started moving forward.
The gap between them closed with every footfall she took. Soon he stopped talking and stood up. The wind gusted through the clearing whipping at their hair; making the last drops fall from the trees. Soon, but not soon enough they were face to face.
Maybe she should have listened to what he had said, and then maybe she could have stopped what happened next. What happened when he kissed her; she didn't notice anything else. His lips stopped moving, only forming one last farewell. As he tumbled to the ground dead, the knife sticking out of his chest, she stood over Him. Crying silently, he was gone. She should have talked, not acted. She should have listened, and now he was dead by his own hand
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