Loving the Heartless

Decked in reds and violets, fuchsia to rival any brilliance, the creature descended the stairs. The twists and ties of her crimson gown shimmered in the light of the failing sun, making her rosy skin gleam and her scarlet eyes glimmer. The tresses of her scarlet ringlets came to her shoulders, which were bare. Her hands resting near her flawless hips twitched nervously as she came to the high window, her hands upon the railing. Looking down, she saw the reason for her anxiety. All of a sudden something, which, in itself, was not red, streamed down her cheek.
There he was, lounging across a park bench, a woman in his lap. She was wearing close to nothing, amusingly still legal for the public eye; whereas, he was garbed as usual, in blacks and grays. A trench rested over a dark gray wife-beater and black jeans clung rigidly to the tops of his black boots; his hat ever-shadowing his abyssal gaze. He seemed oblivious that they were being watched — or perhaps he knew and didn’t care. Maybe that would explain that sinister grin on his thin lips.
In the window the crimson beauty wept, her hands shaking on the railing. She swore some day that man was going to make her change. But she couldn’t help it. Love had fallen for the Heartless, and she swore… someday he was going to turn her into Hate.

Tears of Glass

In the valley of silence the wind makes a silent whistle, the glass fronds of the grass and overgrown thatches of fern brush against the imposing dock of ancient, black wood. The stillness of the pond is broken only by the drop of forsaken salt; the moon illuminated the pale flesh of the youngling clashing greatly in this sacred place, her hideaway. The parchment whispers dryly across the dock, caught by the delicate breeze; then taken away as darkness and fear touch the little one’s heart. Another tear falls, and she swears to god she won’t let it happen again. Her eyes lift to the sky, darker now and threatening to rain. The moonlight peers through the clouds just enough to cast silver upon her tear-stained face. She can say nothing — nothing she hadn’t said before… But the thoughts all come back and tumble through her mind again; why now, where here, why me? Her still gaze returns to the melancholy comfort of the reflection in the lake, fronds brushing her shoulders, the Death Notice is carried away, and laid beside the other two gravestones from the past. She had to wonder, what will she do when god has finally taken the last?