“I failed... I couldn’t… bring them back…” These words echoed in my ear.
There she stood, in her twenties, with hands clasping close to her chest by the lake. She seemed calm as the winds play with her hair. Turning to me, she smiled. I smiled back.
We sat down together and had quite a conversation, about paintings. As night began to veil the land, I accompanied her home. That day, I met a new friend.
I saw cuts on her wrist, but I bear no ill thoughts of her. Her abode was modest near the foothill. Apparently, she stays alone. Every so often, I would ask her out. From weeks to months, I grew fond of her.
One day, I decided to pay her a surprise visit. I entered the gloomy house and into a room where a stream of rays led me. There she was, lying, breathing heavily with blood on her wrist.
I ran and hold her to my arms, asking why. She cried, saying
“I failed… I couldn’t… bring them back…”
The walls were hung, paintings of her family. She thought that blood, being the essence of life could bring them back. Her effort proves futile.
I spent the night there. Leaned on the wall, I stayed awake, watching over her. Dawn reappears, and she was beside me, with a blanket around us. When we came to our senses, she asked me to bring her to the place we first met.
It seemed like a death wish. But she insisted. As we sat by the lake, and by a twist of fate, we drew out a big heart. It was the most beautiful drawing that I have found; I found love.
Tears flood my eyes, as I soliloquized
“God, please don’t take her away from me…”
By 128240
