Starlight

This is another one of my short stories. It has no real story-connected plot, not much else aside from itself. I've done a few of these things, if you've kept an eye on my work; I call them, Emotional Investments in Literature. This is a bit similar to

Stars. Aren't they wonderful? They aren't, if they remind you of sadness.

Such is what Emily felt. A calm, silent mood was what painted her face, one tearless yet solemn.

Her eyes were closed, hiding the window to the soul from the world- drawing down blinds so no other could see, let alone understand. They did understand, yes, but nothing still was done. She still was alone.

"I could cry," she murmured to herself, breathing deeply in tune with her own thoughts. "Yet it would solve nothing. He's still gone." Snow crunched under her as she shifted her weight, turning her head to the empty skies.

The Heavens were empty that night. Moonlight bathed the blank field in light, enough for Emily to see clearly in front of her, the snow that clung to the trees around her, the silhouettes of warm homes and candlelit rooms.

Eyes closed, she lowered her head in memory. There were pleasant times behind her, ones full of faith and friendship. Vibrant images danced in front of her eyelids, cheerful, sound-filled montages of the things that she cherished everyday in her prayers.

“I could cry,” she whispered, “but those tears won't be loosed tonight.” Her eyes opened once more, again staring up at the pitch above. “I simply just can't find forgiveness within myself. It wasn't intentional that I left. I couldn't help it.”

Emily sighed. Times had been hard, the answers she sought racing in her mind like foxes eluding gamekeepers. Not one moment of silence would allow stillness of her thoughts, not one minute of contemplation would permit solutions being gathered. The more and more she went on, the more darkness unfurled in the corners of her mind, a status that can only be related to despondency.

Despondency seemed quite right. Hopelessness, disheartenment. Despair, dejection, solemnity. A simple, overall lack of repentance from her own eyes.  All this was felt deep within, an ache that wrapped around her slow-beating heart.

“I could cry,” she stated to the million grains of snow around her, “but I would have no one to share these tears with. No dreamer to donate my heartache to upon quiet winds, no companion to dry the torrents that fall from my eyes.”

With a deep, whole breath, she opened her eyes, A glimmer caught her sight from above, a single star that outshone the moon, unblinking, unwaivering in its diligence to be seen. Emily's own eyes locked on this visage, staring as winter wind danced over her eyes. The night's cold drew out water from her eyes; the starlight culled out her soul's hope from a cold, broken heart.

Eyes blinked, and more tears fell while Emily gathered another deep breath within her lungs.

“I'm sorry David,” Emily said, her voice quivering as her heartbeats quickened. “I didn't cry, because I didn't want you to see me break apart when you left. I didn't want our last memory to be filled with my tears. I only wanted to see your smile our last day together, and I lied when I said that I wouldn't cry when you were gone.”

For the final time that night, her eyes closed, tears still dripping from her eyes. “Please forgive me, David. I can't stop loving you.”