Song of the Chapter: A Girl, A Boy, And A Graveyard - J.M "So underneath the concrete sky, She puts her hand in mine She says life's a game we are meant to lose Stick by me and I will stick by you."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
-
October, Autumn Entry 50
I think heaven and hell made a plan that night of the brief kiss of September. They allied forces and conjoined in a whole knew scene, a whole new place. A Tophet, it was, but a fire you did not mind getting burned in.
Lillian was more distant. Very distant. Her sunken eyes were depressed and withered like daisies potted in a clenched fist.
It was strange, though.
The way she would go out on the darkest of winter nights and wear a simple white cape, it's see-through lunacy outshining the moonlight itself. A sun in the dark.
Even the wind seemed to take pity upon the girl, blowing a slight breeze in her direction, afraid she may fly away into oblivion. It did seem as though the hollows of her collarbones held a valley, a civilization ready to collapse.
Her hands, lotioned to smooth out the teeth marks painted on her knuckles. Her skin will bruise if you hug her too tightly. Her skin was not paper, oh no, paper was too strong. Too thick.
You'd wonder if Lillian was the one who was supposed to be the savior.
You'd wonder if the blades of grass could kill her.
Each vertebrae lining down her back protrudes upwards like a mountain, waiting for the time the avalanche comes pouring down until the deserts between her ribs finally are full with something.
The hollows in her cheeks were not just hollows, no, they were deep oceans that were drained from water. But you would still question to yourself if you could still drown.
The flame that once lied in her eyes was now dim, and the violet rimmed around her eyes was a loud 'I surrender'.
Lillian didn't let me touch her that night. She didn't let me look at her.
Her fingers went down to her neck and goosebumps appeared upon her arms as she touched the cold metal of the necklace wrapped around her. She unclipped the jewelry, shaking her head and handing it in my hand, her eyes not daring to meet mine.
The same black necklace with a green emerald I had gifted to her on our wedding night.
"I'm sorry Harry." She took a deep breath, as though it took her all her power to say those two words and that simple pause in between before she continued through a shaky silence,
