[Two to Write] Night's Final Hour - Chapter 53
Benjamin Delacroix
“While we are mourning the loss of our friend, others are rejoicing to
meet him behind the veil.” ~John Taylor
My thoughts were still tormented as the sun began its descent. Try as I
was, I had not been able to escape my own mind. Of all the unthinkable
things that I had seen and done in my life, this was different. I will
not say that it was the worst or the most ill-conceived, but it was
certainly the most selfish. To have fallen in love with someone like
Miss Ivy is not only selfish of me but foolish. My days of existence
are numbered - that I have known for years. I do not know how long I
will remain here, but I know that I am not to be here for all time.
I should have kept my mouth sealed and my opinions hidden, but Mr.
Pearson has a way of turning me into a young man again. I find myself
acting and speaking before I think. Should I have thought about my
words before I announced my affections for Miss Ivy, things would be
easier to deal with when I see her again. Instead, I will have to right
my shortcomings and place distance between myself and the person who
found it reasonable to befriend me.
A sudden shift occurs across the necropolis and an ominous essence
fills the air. Each time a shift of this kind is created, I know that
I’ll have work to do soon. Reluctantly, I shift and turn to the
commotion. I expect to see someone, but not her. Under no conditions do
I expect to see Miss Carter.
If she had appeared any other way, I would not be alarmed. If she had
walked into the cemetery, I would not be startled. Even if she had come
on horseback, worry would not be flooding my mind. But, Ivy Mae
appeared suddenly and that only means one thing in this sort of morbid
place: Ivy Mae Carter is dead.
My mouth cannot form proper words and my mind lacks the capacity to
form a coherent thought. A few words that are not becoming of a
gentleman escape my lips as I make my way across the hallowed ground.
She blinks a few times as I stare down upon her. The sun glares down in
her eyes and she reaches out a hand to shield it. I reposition my body
and block the sky’s giant star.
“What happened Miss Ivy?” I inquire as she sits up in my shadow.
“What do you mean?” It quickly becomes obvious that she does not yet
know what has become of her.
It is on this day that I am thankful to be a ghost and hate it more
than anything. I will not be left broken, with words unsaid. I will not
be the one who regrets words spoken aloud. The one who grieves and
longs to say goodbye will not be me. Instead, it shall be I who has to
show her the passing. I will be the one who helps her find her peace
with this life and move into the unknown. The pleasure of saying
goodbye and the pain of watching her go; both will be mine.
Night's Final Hour by Crystal and Pamela MacLean is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United
States License.
“While we are mourning the loss of our friend, others are rejoicing to
meet him behind the veil.” ~John Taylor
My thoughts were still tormented as the sun began its descent. Try as I
was, I had not been able to escape my own mind. Of all the unthinkable
things that I had seen and done in my life, this was different. I will
not say that it was the worst or the most ill-conceived, but it was
certainly the most selfish. To have fallen in love with someone like
Miss Ivy is not only selfish of me but foolish. My days of existence
are numbered - that I have known for years. I do not know how long I
will remain here, but I know that I am not to be here for all time.
I should have kept my mouth sealed and my opinions hidden, but Mr.
Pearson has a way of turning me into a young man again. I find myself
acting and speaking before I think. Should I have thought about my
words before I announced my affections for Miss Ivy, things would be
easier to deal with when I see her again. Instead, I will have to right
my shortcomings and place distance between myself and the person who
found it reasonable to befriend me.
A sudden shift occurs across the necropolis and an ominous essence
fills the air. Each time a shift of this kind is created, I know that
I’ll have work to do soon. Reluctantly, I shift and turn to the
commotion. I expect to see someone, but not her. Under no conditions do
I expect to see Miss Carter.
If she had appeared any other way, I would not be alarmed. If she had
walked into the cemetery, I would not be startled. Even if she had come
on horseback, worry would not be flooding my mind. But, Ivy Mae
appeared suddenly and that only means one thing in this sort of morbid
place: Ivy Mae Carter is dead.
My mouth cannot form proper words and my mind lacks the capacity to
form a coherent thought. A few words that are not becoming of a
gentleman escape my lips as I make my way across the hallowed ground.
She blinks a few times as I stare down upon her. The sun glares down in
her eyes and she reaches out a hand to shield it. I reposition my body
and block the sky’s giant star.
“What happened Miss Ivy?” I inquire as she sits up in my shadow.
“What do you mean?” It quickly becomes obvious that she does not yet
know what has become of her.
It is on this day that I am thankful to be a ghost and hate it more
than anything. I will not be left broken, with words unsaid. I will not
be the one who regrets words spoken aloud. The one who grieves and
longs to say goodbye will not be me. Instead, it shall be I who has to
show her the passing. I will be the one who helps her find her peace
with this life and move into the unknown. The pleasure of saying
goodbye and the pain of watching her go; both will be mine.
Night's Final Hour by Crystal and Pamela MacLean is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United
States License.