Love's Salvation

Once I had a true love,
he said.

Once I was a Prince Charming.
His eyes glistened now, brimming with memory.
I found her in a meadow, the like of which you've never seen. Flowers and grasses whispered soft melodies with the wind, and sunshine alighted everything with a warm and benevolent glow. She lay in the middle of this glory, hardly moving, looking somehow both out of place and at home on this Earth. My horse was oddly calm as I led him towards her, and when I dropped his reins he simply stopped. Stopped and watched the fragile figure, her slight chest moving gently in tune with her breathing. As I approached, I saw the tears glistening on her cheeks, in her eyes, leaving a shimmering trail of heartache and joy, pain and pleasure. I fell softly to my knees, almost as if the Earth was waiting to catch me. It was then that she met my gaze, and I hardly remembered who I was. Such a world I've never known as what I found in those sky-blue eyes, still bright, though somehow I could see that they were becoming dimmer, clouded.
Triumph called my name, and for the first and last time I truly saw what it was to be a son of Adam. The blessing of life given to us, the promise of something eternal, something greater.
Sorrow called my name, and for the first and last time I truly saw what it was to be so flawed, so imperfect, so human. The pain we are bound to inflict upon ourselves and each other, betrayal a way of life.
Another diamond tear clouded her vision, and without conscious thought I reached forward and brushed it from her cheek, from the present and into the past. As I touched her, and thus told her in words unspoken of my love, she began to glow ever so softly. Her eyes became clear once more, and while she still held my gaze I saw the past, the present, the future. The Truth. Elegant white wings suddenly cascaded down her back. With a small smile, she looked away, before her sight could blind me. As it was, I had to close my eyes against the light, and so I only felt a warm and gentle touch upon my shoulder, a sudden breeze caress my face and ruffle my hair before cold air returned. I opened my eyes to the World and saw it forever diminished in comparison to her beauty, but it was at the same time precious and worth protecting. I turned from the now unremarkable clearing and walked back towards my horse.
I never forgot her love,
he said.
I never forgot her gift, because I lived my whole life in search of such love, and never found it. I am forever grateful,
he said, the light of the flickering fire illuminating his tears,
that I was even given that glimpse.

The Gift of Mortality

The roses were blooming again. I paused long enough to pluck one from its wild, entangling bush. The depth of its color made my hand seem all the more pale. Its petals were so soft, so red, so alive. Unlike me. How I yearned for the warmth of life once more, pulsing through my body, coloring the ever fair apples of my cheeks. There was a time-I remember it with some difficulty, for I was young then, even to human standards-there was a time when I had the gift of mortality. Clenching the rose tightly in my hand, I pressed it to my breast and found my way to my chosen place in the deserted castle; a stone balcony overlooking the rest of the gronds and the forest that was slowly taking back the land that had been stolen from it all those years ago. 'For civilization!' they had probably said as they destroyed the ancient trees, ripped up the earth. 'For the betterment of mankind!' But such is how we-they; humans-always think, always have thought, and always will think. I find myself, as time goes on, slipping farther and farther from those thoughts, and more and more do I lose myself in thoughts seemingly not my own. I am losing myself, I think-sometimes all I do is think for hours at a time, possibly days; time slips by me so-and yet I cannot summon the will, the strength, the energy, to be afraid. I am only cold...only empty, forever empty. Though however devoid of life I may be, I will never die. I think one day I shall become merely a ghost, a wraith among these ruins in days when no one will remember my times; I barely remember them myself anymore. Possibly an explorer, someone young, will happen upon the castle in ten years, or a hundred, or a thousand, and will see me, just a lost figure of an eternally young woman, wandering, with no purpose or meaning. Just a figure-just a pale specter who turns haunted black eyes upon the world, but no longer thinks or acts or anything having to do with a free and unencumbered mind-I shall just wander.