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Description
Up in the heavens, she cried and cried continuously, letting her children fall onto the gravel where they would collect and slip into slitted holes descending until they reached a dark abyss. One by one they fell and screamed as they crashed onto the unforgiving ground. They continued to screech and shriek as they pleaded for their nest, yet the Sky lent them no ear. Sans a reply from their apathetic mother, the influx of tears continued to plummet towards the unforgiving ground, mixing in with the rain on the face of a single disconsolate silhouette. He paid no mind to the relentless teardrops and remained isolated in his own invisible throes of turbulent trepidation. Slowly, as though the effort was some horribly difficult task, the shadow attempted to open his stapled mouth. Taking advantage of the opportunity to become noticed, a bantam brigade of raindrops seeped into the steadily growing opening. However, they were not acknowledged nor heeded by the melancholic man. As he opened his pale wet lips, he wistfully whispered the name of his only mirthful memory: “Ciel”.

How long had it been since the first time he had met her? It could not have possibly have just been a year before. Countless decades must have passed since their first meeting, when he had only thought of her as an ignorant woman and threatened her. “I’m not afraid of your death,” she had said and then smiled. Her words confused him, a person who had seen innumerable others who had cowered at such a sign of peril. Would she have been apprehensive if he had been someone else, someone who was taller and had haggardly features? Or was it because she simply lacked the sense of fear? “I can teach you to live again,” she had brightly offered, without hesitation, without unease at a man who could callously kill others as if they were no higher than bugs. He had laughed at her in mockery and accepted her proposal as a game just to see what she would do for him. Maybe he had even looked forward to her offer, clandestinely hopeful for once in his strifeful life of being accepted. However, perhaps it was a mistake to have let her live and carve herself a hole within his heart.

He could still remember that day, a day like today, when the rain was singing its own ominous tune. There was only a honk and flurry of lights before its song became a despondent dirge and Ciel lay sleeping on the cold, black tar cemetery. Her rose petal lips were held at a sad seraph’s smile as her contradicting sunny blonde hair formed a frame around her lithe body and life leaked onto the gravel and saw the rain, the weeping rain, and found comfort in it. The rain… With an agonized expression upon his face, the man grasped his shirt, bending over in indubitable pain and began to mutter.

“It hurts…It hurts, it hurts,” the man repeated as the emptiness in his heart echoed with deathless nothingness.

“IT HURTS!” he shrieked as he suddenly stood erect, clenching his chest with even more force than before as he shirt bawled in blatant protest. Rain continued to fall, however, soaking the man’s dark ebony hair and scarred tan skin as though trying to calm or inform him. How could he be comforted by the very thing that contributed to her death? Then, as he bent his head back down, droplets of water still streaming down his face, he began to smile as he realized her words.

“The death of the heart,” he giggled and could not stop laughing as the rain continued to fall.

Description
Up in the heavens, she cried and cried continuously, letting her children fall onto the gravel where they would collect and slip into slitted holes descending until they reached a dark abyss. One by one they fell and screamed as they crashed onto the unforgiving ground. They continued to screech and shriek as they pleaded for their nest, yet the Sky lent them no ear. Sans a reply from their apathetic mother, the influx of tears continued to plummet towards the unforgiving ground, mixing in with the rain on the face of a single disconsolate silhouette. He paid no mind to the relentless teardrops and remained isolated in his own invisible throes of turbulent trepidation. Slowly, as though the effort was some horribly difficult task, the shadow attempted to open his stapled mouth. Taking advantage of the opportunity to become noticed, a bantam brigade of raindrops seeped into the steadily growing opening. However, they were not acknowledged nor heeded by the melancholic man. As he opened his pale wet lips, he wistfully whispered the name of his only mirthful memory: “Ciel”.

How long had it been since the first time he had met her? It could not have possibly have just been a year before. Countless decades must have passed since their first meeting, when he had only thought of her as an ignorant woman and threatened her. “I’m not afraid of your death,” she had said and then smiled. Her words confused him, a person who had seen innumerable others who had cowered at such a sign of peril. Would she have been apprehensive if he had been someone else, someone who was taller and had haggardly features? Or was it because she simply lacked the sense of fear? “I can teach you to live again,” she had brightly offered, without hesitation, without unease at a man who could callously kill others as if they were no higher than bugs. He had laughed at her in mockery and accepted her proposal as a game just to see what she would do for him. Maybe he had even looked forward to her offer, clandestinely hopeful for once in his strifeful life of being accepted. However, perhaps it was a mistake to have let her live and carve herself a hole within his heart.

He could still remember that day, a day like today, when the rain was singing its own ominous tune. There was only a honk and flurry of lights before its song became a despondent dirge and Ciel lay sleeping on the cold, black tar cemetery. Her rose petal lips were held at a sad seraph’s smile as her contradicting sunny blonde hair formed a frame around her lithe body and life leaked onto the gravel and saw the rain, the weeping rain, and found comfort in it. The rain… With an agonized expression upon his face, the man grasped his shirt, bending over in indubitable pain and began to mutter.

“It hurts…It hurts, it hurts,” the man repeated as the emptiness in his heart echoed with deathless nothingness.

“IT HURTS!” he shrieked as he suddenly stood erect, clenching his chest with even more force than before as he shirt bawled in blatant protest. Rain continued to fall, however, soaking the man’s dark ebony hair and scarred tan skin as though trying to calm or inform him. How could he be comforted by the very thing that contributed to her death? Then, as he bent his head back down, droplets of water still streaming down his face, he began to smile as he realized her words.

“The death of the heart,” he giggled and could not stop laughing as the rain continued to fall.