Two

2-11-10 10:59 PM

A cry of laughter from outside.

Two crippled hands tight, clamped.

Sickly children with smaller in tow.

One with reigns to His mouth.

Their slumped shoulders.

Down the path they crawl.

Not yet they walk.

 

"But soon," She begs.

"Anything for you," He pleads.

Their hands become one.

Their clothes taint to white.

Their sickness is one.

No more questions.

No more answers.

They laugh.

 

"What else is there?" He muses.

"Nothing, just me," She demands.

His eyes advert.

They become hers.

He loses them.

She smiles.

He nods.

Their arms shake.

Threaten.

To fall.

They meld.

 

As one.

Slumped shoulders shiver.

Both gasp.

The light will flash.

But they won't see.

 

"Let's go now," She screams.

"Of course," He cries.

They rise from their knees.

They walk.

White cleanses to grey.

And grey to black.

Two bodies join.

As one.

Sickly children.

With smaller in tow.

Reviews

[Mike Espinosa]

This is quite interesting. I can't say I fully get it, but I think I got a good idea of it. The "White cleanses to grey" line is very cool, as it plays with the popular assumption that it is opposite, white being the cleanest. Very cool. Good job on this piece.

Grammar (that I noticed):
"One with reigns to His mouth." Is 'His' supposed to be capitalized? If it is, it normally has a deity connotation to it, but that wouldn't make much sense in this context.