"Lord have mercy on those who disrespect the Queen; for she won't."
They ruined her life,
Took her love from her,
its time she returned the favor
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Rose had returned back to her emotionless face as she stood up and started walking. She stopped walki...
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For the love, for laughter, I flew up to your arms
I have loved you for the last time
And I have kissed you for the last time
~Sufjan Stevens
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The chapel was silent except for the periodic silent sobs, the orange and golden rays of sunset streamed in through the painted glasses, and scattered across the room—shining and reflecting off the different shiny surfaces—but the atmosphere was somber. There were no families visiting to seek advice from the pastor or to pray before retiring for the day, there were no youths praying for their dreams to be fulfilled or young adults tired after a difficult and seeking comfort. The chapel was deserted except for a young woman silently weeping near the stairs, and a young man sitting in the last pew—and had been there for hours—with his head in his hands.
The girl was in a black robe, which bunched around her and contrasted starkly against the white marble. Another sniffle broke the silence of the room and the young lady made no move to wipe the tear which escaped her eyes. Earlier the day, the village had seen the funeral of young boy and this young woman had broken down when the coffin had been carried away for burial. She had stayed on the ground ever since.
The young man had carried the coffin to the burial, lowered it to the ground and managed to stay upright till all was done. He had then trailed to the chapel and found himself on the last pew in the corner where shadows could wrap around him. He had not cried, hadn't shed a tear but his heart felt heavier than a rock and something had lodged in his throat. He had been listening to the young woman cry and weep till she grew silent, till her loud cries had turned to sobs and then frequent sniffles. He did not have the energy nor courage to console the lady, to comfort her and assure her that everything would be alright. The sun had set by now, the golden rays gone, replaced by scattered light and the lights in the chapel had been lit now. He knew he had to get her home, it was turning late.
So he stood up, his body stiff from sitting for so long but he continued walking towards the figure on the floor. His voice was raspy from the weight in his throat when he said, "Rose, night is beginning to fall, we must return home." When she did not answer, he stepped closer to her, "Rose, please, we must leave."
He stepped closer even, careful not to step on her skirts, and hesitantly touched her shoulder. She did not startle at his touch, showed no response to his presence. He pushed the hair covering her face away and finally she looked up at him. She was a mess both inside and outside; her eyes bloodshot red and marks of tears down her cheeks, snot filled nose and her dress was scrumpled. Her eyes were dark as she stared him, no sign of recognition, no usual warmth and love just pain and grief and fear and hatred. And heartbreak.
