another short stories

S'envoler

"I've always been fascinated by death," I heard her say and walked a few steps forward. She closed her eyes, feeling the comfort of the wind that surrounds her as she lifted her arms like a bird in flight.

"What is death? And what does it feel like?" She asked. The wind continued to blow gently on her direction, her hair sways with it, faintly covering her face. I did not respond. Not because she couldn't hear me speak but because there is no definite answer for it.

"Is death a prison, or is it freedom? Does death feel like flying? Flying, flying, and flying into an endless void, going into a parallel universe. Maybe death is the portal to that universe. To a universe where everything is right— you're there, and I am beside you, for eternity." She smiled at the thought of a parallel universe, the image played repeatedly on her mind. I put my hand on my chest and stared at her. Hoping that her smile, her beauty would revive me back to life. A single beat never escaped from my chest. It was hollow yet heavy. I started counting. Still, no rhythm and no movement is felt.

"If death is freedom, are we allowed to go to the ends of the universe? Making the impossible possible; discovering the things that humans weren't able to, ghosts traveling into space with no limits. Or is it the opposite? We arrive at some place, at our end. Forever confined to the thing that we fear the most and have always avoided."

She paused for a long time, giving herself some time to think about death's mystery." Ironic isn't it? Death is being freed, and trapped."

It is a trap.

"If it is actually being trapped, then it does not matter. As long as I am with you." Her voice was breaking as she spoke. Tears started to roll down her cheeks. If only I could touch her, feel her with these ghostly hands, I would caress her face and wipe her tears away. But I could only look at her, immersed with longing and sadness.

"Take me with you!" She shouted at the empty space in front of her. I couldn't feel my heart yet I am certain that it is breaking at the sight of her despair.

And by some miracle, she turned to where I am, and stared at me for a long time. I moved closer to her and we met halfway. She did not break her gaze at me as she held my hand. A smile curved on her lips; her eyes looked crystal and infinite in the twilight.

I cried. I cried like how she cried for me at night, shamelessly and out loud. I cried like how she grieved my absence in her lonely hours.

"In life or in death, I'll remain forever yours. I do not choose death, I choose you."

And together, we jumped to the edge of felicity, our wings spread into the air, drifting us away. Her wings matched the way she is. Golden and beautiful. I told her that she is beautiful and she laughed, and it echoed in the skies.

Up, up and away, there was a pound in my chest. I can feel the beat of my heart once again.

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S'envoler  is a French word which means, "to fly away".