Le noir
Was the only couleur that surrounded the little garçon of only five years, as he saw a beautifully brown polished wood being lowered to the ground.
Despite the rain
And at that moment, The petit garçon knew he would never come back and all he wanted to do was cry
Cry because he would never see that smile again. Cry because he would never see those striking blue eyes filled with happiness directed towards him. Cry because he would never feel those big strong arms hug him when he would cry or have nightmares.
The list could go on, on pourquoi il veut pleuré. But on why he shouldn't, the list only contained off 2 reasons
Firstly because he couldn't change the past and Secondly because he had to be there for his maman
'Be her big boy now' he thought as he looked up to his mother, shielding his eyes from the rain
His mother, Madelaide Delacroix, was a stunningly beautiful twenty four year old French woman from the region of Colmar.
She had blonde wavy hair that flowed halfway through her back. Ocean-blue eyes that had specks of green inside holding no other emotions than happiness. A 5'9 woman who always graced her slender face with a smile.
So seeing her the opposite of happiness made her garçon, Andren, not want to cry more than ever
She was wearing a black skirt that hugged her curves well with a black vest and black flats
She was also accessorized by a short black veil, black gloves with a small Yves Saint Laurent hand bag
Her red lipstick was still intact but the black eyeliner was running down her face, making her blue eyes pop than ever
"Maman, ne pleure pas" Andren said all while taking his mother's hand in between his and giving it a squeeze
She looked down at him and gave him a small smile before more tears started flowing.
What could you say? The little Andren was a carbon copy of her deceased love
From the way they speak or to the way they twist their face when concentrated, they were the exact reference of 'like father like son'
She saw as her garçon opened her YSL bag and brought out a black handkerchief
He tugged softly on her hand, signaling her to come to his level and she did so. He brought the handkerchief towards her face and started dabbing and the rundown eyeliner that stained her flawless face
"Don't cry Maman, everything with be ok" the boy said as he continued wiping her face gently with the handkerchief.
The mother just smiled softly at the little boy before kissing his forehead and standing up
"Allez, Let's go home" She told the boy leading him out of the gloomy graveyard but not before give the most recent tombstone a glance
Michaelis Delacroix
1967 - 2008
"Je saurais le prochain Beethoven"
Au revoir, Mon amour
YOU ARE READING
Eclectic
RandomThis is not a story but parts of different stories which with your help, you might be able to actually know what really happened ⚠️ This is going to be a lot of fun. Haha
