Pick a word. Any word. I wanted to challenge my skills and do something unusual. Now looking at this piece it seems like something I wouldn't normally do. Then I think, who you kidding?

Torrid

He was gone. Gone like the wind. She tried to breathe, to hear her own heart beat but it was too loud, the world. Outside the cries of the people rang louder than the fear inside. More food! More rights! More land! More! She closed the door on the world. Inside her room where no one watched, she looked at herself in the mirror. Turned just enough to see the mark he left. It was purply, bruised, a bit bloody and sore, she smiled at the memory. It was rough, his love. His kisses left scars beyond the surface, he was, an ocean. His words were like caress', gentle, hynoptic...his eyes, mesmerizing. He tasted sweet. Not like sugar. Not like candy. But sweet nonetheless. From her breast she recovered his goodbye concealed on parchment written by the quill she gave him as a present. Fingers tremble as she unrolls it. Each scrap a slash to her heart. She reads as if she had not read it before;

Something parched is dying
Whichever part left alive is sighing
Ever nearer death
A drop of water is needed for reviving

Then the words that stopped her heart.

We are a dying sun.

To the corner she turned. Away from the world that made them. Away from all she could see. She lowered her head in shame. She would stand there until the sun went down, until the sun died. We are a dying sun...this was true! Remember that we are forbidden, he told her. Remember that although we belong to each other, we also belong to different sides of the world, he whispered. And because of this, we are a dying Sun, only to be seen by the light of the Moon. Our love can never see the light of day lest we put our lives in peril he said through clenched teeth. So ready your heart each night all the while hiding your smile during the day. We are each other's precious secret in a world running torrid with lies of love.

He was not gone. He had not gone away. Her mind blinded her heart with misread words. Still she sat in that corner with her back to the world that would not have them. Her a princess in a kingdom soon to be overrun by the people of her lover, the warrior pauper. Would she survive? Would they?


This is from the Chronicles at Neosynthesis, C12 Arbitrary. It's an awesome Chronicle so please run, don't walk on over...to [n] Check us out!

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