{She wishes she had no heart, it ached so}
"Melancholy were the sounds on a winters night"
-Virginia WoolfThe air was frozen feathers on her skin, delicate and cold, like winter waves on sallow sand. The sky was washed with grey, watery light illuminating thin patches to brilliance. The rain had lost the ambient temperature of early fall, freezing and paling her skin on contact, the late November wind tussling her hair. The path through the park was muddy water, filling deep puddles that hide the ruts of dryer weather.
In some moments, she watched her brown boots over the frozen footpath; small pebbles, muddy puddles, and in some others, transfixed on the shape of the grey cloud and trees above.
For some reason, her mind conjured up the image of a torn and tattered blue dress that was falling at the seams, its sleeves soaked in a deep vibrant pink, it swayed in an empty field under warm sunny rays. Only the slipping of her foot brought her attention earthward once more, the need to stay upright pulling her mind into the present.
Ruth was trekking her way to the garden, somewhere she hasn't been since the start of autumn when the weather was less forgiving. Her and Sebastian began meeting less and less, their last meeting was held just a week ago in a small tavern on the outskirts of the city. Their infrequent rendezvous were partly due to Sebastian's busy schedule as he prepared for his kingly duties as the day of his coronation approached. Something both of them had been anticipating for months
Ruth had reached a point by the palace grounds, far enough to not be seen by any guards or workers. She approached the opening to their garden, she was expecting to see the partly frozen pond, the stiff frozen tree branches swaying in the wind. But what she saw she wasn't expecting. By the willow tree, where she always sat waiting for Sebastian, there stood someone underneath it, someone who wasn't him.
Ruth took a sudden step back, her face blanched. It was a woman, her dress was a deep dark crimson, it stood out against the frozen landscape, her hair was golden strands and her belly was swollen with child.
The woman turned, her blue eyes widened in surprise at Ruth's presence. Her hand went to lay protectively around her belly, shielding it from any oncoming threat.
Ruth knew who the woman was, she's seen her many time in fleeting nightmares, her silhouette imprinted in her mind. Her lovers wife, there she was pregnant with... his child.
No. She could not believe it. There was no way.
Her sadness, her fear, her love; they flew around her head like black ravens. She could feel the fear in her chest wanting to take over. Perhaps it only wanted to protect her. It sat there like an angry ball, propelling her towards inevitable anxiety. She felt alone, isolated within betrayal and lies. Her body hung limp, she felt every muscle give in to gravity. She felt her heart implode with grief.
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Into The Arms of Dusk
RomanceNovember nights are especially stricken with melancholy, as if the ghosts of all winter past come rushing to haunt her heart. She was a captive of her love, her desire, and her dreams. There's always a special quality to the loneliness of dusk, a...