Without color

Without color

Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance

Content

Submitted: November 06, 2016

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Content

Submitted: November 06, 2016

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That was the first time I ever saw her. That day water droplets and flakes of snow were falling from Slate-gray sky. She silently watched a sparrow, who bravely resisted gusts of wind and freezing touches of the mourning heavens so similar to tears, with head hidden under the trembling brown wing. The black branch under his slender legs danced fully committed to the tune of the wind. I was speechless how her hair flows softly around her face like a curling curtain of golden silk. I truly hoped that they will reveal more than a perfectly formed small nose. Nose, which will always be imprinted on my mind with his every slightest detail. This beautiful moment will be my fleeting eternity. Why? Because even if it will end, I think I will forever remember the feelings that this little piece of time gave me. The lightning, behind my back, torn shadows of the gloomy clouds and created a web of the glowing lights, falling to the horizon of the dark outlines of the forest and the roar that followed was like the deep note of a distant organ. Startled, I flinched and turned my head to the quivering air of evening music. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her pale face watching me, decorated with white petals of incident snow, which, once feel the heat of her warm face, was thawing out into the pearly water, trickling and bounding the graceful curve of her cheeks. Widely she opened her emerald green eyes with yellow veins and crowned by a bronze ring around the inky black stains of pupils and blinked at me like didn't even believe that I'm standing there, that there is someone there. It seemed, however, that she is not uncomfortable, just surprised. She weaved spilled moonlight into the silver words that came to my ears. “Do you know?” She bit her bottom lip, frowned and sheepishly tapped on her mouth with tips of her finger. She looked like she was trying to decide. After a short pause, she continued. “Why snow must be white?” and as if she wanted to give her words greater emphasis, she would open her palm toward black canopy of heaven, waiting for the flakes to fall. I've been thinking about it for a while, but the answer I didn't know and so I honestly said, that I don't know. It hurt me little bit. Downhearted breath of wind out of her slightly opened mouth changed into the wisp of grey fog. "But it is beautiful," I added, suddenly in some kind of strange enchantment of the senses, which in me aroused the girl. She averted her gaze from the palm of her hand with a blue sheen tips of her fingers and looked at me. The corners of her mouth twitched, as if she tried to suppress a smile, or as if she was trying to smile. Eventually her lips warped and blossomed into bleak bloom, so close the smile. And so we met. The beginning of our relationship was something like a dance without touching on the tones of the songs, which shaped the melody of our hearts, where more than the just warm sigh, which wiped off her face meant that I shattered something small between us, it could disappear away like snow on her face. It took her year, to tell me about yourself. We were sitting speechless little piece next to each other, leaning against the huge trunk of a high tree and watching the dark silk of the moonless sky quilted with the white thread of stars. " When I was little... breathing was hard for me," The words, as if they weren't even addressed to me, the pantry like it's giving to herself, I hardly swallowed and  kept one eye on her, it seemed to me like she had on her face glistening tear, but it could be only my imagination. "My mommy, "she continued but forced into it, “always long into the night, was watching me. She was very kind. “Then she looked up at me, and I realized she has green eyes, actually filled with tears, and the words were really for me.” You will never leave me, right?” Her voice trembled and was silent as the rustling of the distant leaves. That night I promised her something, and she in return promised the same thing, we both broke that. About two months later my mom got sick. I lived only with her. Every single day I lovingly look after her. I prayed to the god, which one I so often cursed… I couldn't abandon her, but eventually, after a year and a half she died in sleep. I think it was for her some way of deliverance, the last weeks she suffered too much. I blame myself, spent dozens of sleepless nights immersed in the memories of her and get swept up in endless sobbing and tears. But in fact, I was only the shell without the soul, the matte shadow of my former light, mindlessly trying to keep alive. Nights in grief days in indifference. After half a year, it was getting worst. Because I began to reminisce on THOSE memories. The worst memories were those of my young life. My mother brushing my hair. Her scolding changing in a reassuring voice, whispering in my ear, “everything will be fine.” How, her cold hand stroking my face, when I was sick and huddled in the bed. How I would sit, curled in her lap at night, drowsy and happy and loved.

These were the worst memories. Precious and perfect. Sharp as a mouthful of broken glass. I lay in bed, clenched into a trembling knot, unable to sleep, unable to turn my mind to other things, unable to stop myself from remembering. Again. And again. And again. The only thing that could help was the thought of the girl I left behind. One day, when the twilight drowned the world in crimson shine and the sun on its celestial journey into the background of the majestic high hills was still a bright golden glow. By sheer coincidence, I went to the place with one mighty tree, after his perfectly green leaves were slipping off the narrow rays of sunlight as fine as threads of silk, and with one girl, with head down looking at the white petals, freshly picked daisies, which firmly gripped between the fingers. I went to her with uncertain steps. When I got up to her, I noticed that her eyes, so similar to the spring grass now commemorated only murky pools. She still didn't see me and so I spoke to her a long time I was looking for the words, and in the end, I chose the words for which voted my heart. “Nina, I'm sorry, I'll never leave you again.” I knelt down next to her. My last syllable trembled with sorrow. Daisy fell out of her hands into the grass. “Mickey.” She turned to me, over her lovely face flitted an expression of joy, but soon went blank, when she looked into my eyes, as if in them she saw the sadness of the previous months, small pale hands brushed the side of my face, and she asked with the worried voice, like my mom. I clenched my teeth against the sobbing.
“It’s okay,” she said quietly. “Come here.” I began to cry quietly, and she gently uncurled the tight knot of me until my head lay in her lap. She murmured, brushing my hair away from my forehead, her hands cool against my hot face. “I know,” she said sadly. “It’s bad sometimes, isn’t it?” She stroked my hair gently, and it only made me cry harder. I could not remember the last time someone except my mum had touched me in a loving way. “I know,” she said. “Sometimes it's too hard. So hard that you want to forget it but you can't.” the night fell many words, but you belong to us, I'm sorry but I don't want to share them with you. But I'll tell you one thing, almost all we're waking up before the crack of dawn but in the end appear bluish promise of daylight, even if it is just her. As the years passed, I gradually realized that she languishes, from the summer of her days, became last days of autumn, she never told me, but I noticed how her murky ton of eyes did not hide more than just the emptiness. The last two years she probably didn't even recognize me anymore. In the end, the disease didn't kill her. She stopped to breathe. I tightly clutched her in my arms, felt the beating of her heart, like a bird in a cage that beats into my chest. “Nino please, when you can't breathe for yourself, breathe for me!” I was screaming desperately. However, the wings stopped.

“Snow is white because it forgot what colour he was, but I will never forget.”
 

 

 


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