The Final Movement

A piece about complicated ties.

The willow tree swooped from side to side, just tickling the grass. I pushed my back into the trunk, as if encouraging the bark to take me. I imagined becoming one of those swaying branches; falling to the Earth in slow motion to reunite with the land it rose from. A breeze weaved through the limbs of the tree that housed the trunk, dutifully making its way to mingle with my cascading black locks that housed me. 

"Hello." announced a husky voice through the swell of branches. A silence giggled between us.

"My, what a grand entrance only to fall short in basic conversation." My eyes were teasing, my heart teasing, but my voice and body did not betray such. A silence cackled between us. 

"You aren't going to . . . label me?" was declared rather than asked. The presence remained hidden behind the wall of foliage, but I didn't need to see to know the broad silhouette. I work well with nothingness, voids of emotion don't bother me. 

"The funeral is taking place. I loved him." My voice hugged the lumbering tree, my protector. 

"And you stole him." My voice released.

Silence was a comfortable median for us. Words never graced him, nor I. Even when a situation called for it, begged for it. Words were useless; they either betrayed information or pretended. Actions on the other hand, were clear. Motive had little worth once something has been done. An act of death for instance; doesn't become more or less dead when informed of intent or culprit. Death is death.

He cautiously parted the dropping limbs and sat opposite of me in the green clearing. Once again, no words, no invitation to join me, just action. He wanted to join me, so he did. The simplicity of our relationship was beautiful. The nothingness disturbing, to some. I didn't love him. He may or may not, I didn't care, so I didn't know. You can't find anything if there was nothing there to begin with. Ignorance is not bliss, simplicity is.

My father was stolen by the boy in this clearing. This boy is a thief. I like thieves.

See? Beauty.

He viewed me delicately. My light skin wrapped pointed features and lanky limbs. I pulled my legs closer to me. He rose and took deliberate, premeditated strides towards me. He didn't like my defensive behavior, so he countered it. I could now see how the speckled light mimicked his even freckles. It continued to dance across his features as he progressed, focusing on lighter strands of brown in his hair. A shiver cracked my cool facade. His lips and fingers curled, he stopped moving. I could feel the hurt despite the distance.

"You are afraid of fear. How typical." I remarked, eyes averted.

"I am afraid of you fearing me." My skin pulled against my knuckles. 

"The projected hero wants to elope with the girl." I gritted.
"How. Typical." I dared to press.

"Your cool disposition and lack of emotion is so . . ." He began, reflecting my success.

"Typical." I boasted.

A sick joy spread like a plague across him. His dark eyes glinted with mischief, his body tensed, and finally a twisted grin concluded the transformation of a handsome innocent to emotionless killer. He closed the gap between us, shoving past the cloud of silence and pain with a hungry knife. I was not going to run. Not now. The final movement. Both of us blind, he lunged and pressed the knife into me.

"You break my heart in the blink of an eye." He whispered into my ear. Each word stressed with a concoction of pain and resentment. 

My thief, has stolen me. 

Author's Note

What genre should this be listed under? Horror seems unfit.

Reviews

[Rene Salinas]

Well not to ignore the question I would go Drama myself and here is why I say that. True that it does have a feeling of a "Nocturne" to put it into a context of familiarity but if you read it as if looped, meaning once you get to the end you go back up and start all over again, you begin to notice that you have accentuated the unfoldings of the relationships the most. From the presence of the Tree really what matters to me in the story is what they invoked in you through the character. I felt a certain sense of vacuity, unfinished business maybe, maybe something gone astray. The other element that is very enticing for me is the apparent irrationality behind the dialogues given that it is a story maybe you wanted it to be that way and leave the reader to travel that path, whichever way is very suggestive. Finally the image of a Tree that of course brings about al kinds of comparisions. I know the part were the knife is brought about could certainly move it into thriller territory but for me it did not overweight the aspect of relaionships behind it all.

Great suspense though

Thankyou

[Jack Wolfe]

I’m saddened that I let this piece sit on my shelf for so long. It was very enjoyable and well written. You managed to capture a short-scene, devoid of emotion, and give it internal life; with the exception of a plunging blade cutting it short (pun intended).

As far as genre, I believe you could get away with drama/suspense, as there is an air of mystery, but the internal thoughts, emotion, and conflict are what drive the story, thus drama.

An enjoyable read, thank you.

[Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere]

My opinion is that it fits in the mystery kind of stories. The feeling that I get while reading it is subcutaneous. The mood I'm getting in, by reading this story is one I always feeling during the reading of a mystery tale. I liked it very much.