His Story

-Now, tell me your story.
Her eyes opened. A tiny lone tear burned its way down her cheek.

Quiet.
Candle lights playing with reckless shadows along the empty castle halls.
Shadows. Always shadows. Shadows separating her from his dreams.

She closed her eyes again.

He was standing by the window peering into the gaping nothingness of her night.
She sensed all too well what his mind is about to say. Yet, she feared to hear the ice of those words finally breaking the clarity of the silence.

-I have no story.

His hand outstretched. Fingers opening.
Pages and pages of unbound volume dropping into the heart of the darkness, being picked up by the howling wind, thrown into the last wild dance, and disappearing from her world forever. As if they never were.

As if he never was.

She opened her eyes.

Long shadows in the empty halls. A splash of white on the cold stones by the window. A single page.
A streak of sudden red cutting the night horizon in half. The new day breaking.

She picked up that page.

"My story begins now.”