Ficlet Prompt: Goodbye
The second of 30 using my One Piece character: Anne
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Prompt: Goodbye
Marco stared down at the lifeless body of the woman who had been his lover. Her normally tanned skin was now a sickening, pallid shade, having been drained of nearly every drop of blood in her body. Her dark brown eyes had been wide when he found her, but where now softly shut. She almost looked like she was sleeping.
He wished he was.
If only this were simply some hellish nightmare and he would wake up soon. Anne would be sleeping next to him, probably half-clothed as she typically slept, and he'd be able to reassure himself that she was alive. She'd wake up and ask him what in the hell had gotten into him, he'd try to put it off as nothing, she'd see straight through him and force and answer of some kind out of him. He could already see it and resisted the urge to pinch himself.
There would be no waking up. There would be no sleepy (if a bit irritated) blond woman beside him in bed, nor would there be in any other morning from now on. No night-time talks where she'd ease the tension of being First Division Commander. No mock-fights with a constant smirk before they made love. No Anne...
Marco watched the body of his lover as it floated in a small raft on the ocean. He watched with a numb horror as Oyaji lowered a torch to the boat, flames devouring the wood as they slowly climbed up to her body. The worst part of it all, Marco thought:
He never had a chance to say goodbye
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Prompt: Goodbye
Marco stared down at the lifeless body of the woman who had been his lover. Her normally tanned skin was now a sickening, pallid shade, having been drained of nearly every drop of blood in her body. Her dark brown eyes had been wide when he found her, but where now softly shut. She almost looked like she was sleeping.
He wished he was.
If only this were simply some hellish nightmare and he would wake up soon. Anne would be sleeping next to him, probably half-clothed as she typically slept, and he'd be able to reassure himself that she was alive. She'd wake up and ask him what in the hell had gotten into him, he'd try to put it off as nothing, she'd see straight through him and force and answer of some kind out of him. He could already see it and resisted the urge to pinch himself.
There would be no waking up. There would be no sleepy (if a bit irritated) blond woman beside him in bed, nor would there be in any other morning from now on. No night-time talks where she'd ease the tension of being First Division Commander. No mock-fights with a constant smirk before they made love. No Anne...
Marco watched the body of his lover as it floated in a small raft on the ocean. He watched with a numb horror as Oyaji lowered a torch to the boat, flames devouring the wood as they slowly climbed up to her body. The worst part of it all, Marco thought:
He never had a chance to say goodbye