Short Stories about Everyone but mainly about Devaronians

"A Stranger's Name"

[name]

A stranger's name.

And still his chest clenches as if his heart recognizes the name when his rotten mind can not.

He comes closer, able to feel the heat of the unrepairable damaged power unit next to him, to smell the braised moss under his feet.. A familiar smell, trying to reach a corner of his brain not yet eaten away. Trying to reach a memory.

[name]

[Is it really you?]

A hand reaches out to him, skin red and burned. He can see blood dripping on the ground.
He knows what to do: Walk away, leave them alone. He cannot help them. He can only make it worse.
And still something locks up his legs, keeping him from walking away and turning away from the face that looks at him.

[Come closer, please.]

[name]

[Come here.]

It's a face of despair, of pain, of recognition.

A face of death.

Something draws him closer, a feeling, a longing. It's a warm feeling in his chest, getting warmer and warmer - until it burns like a fire. His body seems to remember. The touch of gentle hands on his skin, soft whispers in his ears, a warm body close to him during a cold night.

[name]

Their voice is getting weaker, almost inaudible now in damaged ears but he can see their lips moving. The leaves under his bare feet rustle as he steps closer, grabbing the hand reaching out for him. Sinking down on his knees he looks into death's face and it greets him with an exhausted smile.

[name]

He has to lean closer to catch the words. To catch the last breaths of life, weakly escaping his chest.

Arms wrapping around him, pulling him closer in a hug without hope but a hug full of relief. Feeling like someone else, a shadow of his past guides his own arms, sliding into a position to hold them. The movement so painfully familiar in his chest.

[I love you.]

A voice his ears remember.
A hug his arms remember.
A lover his heart remembers.
His rotten mind does not.