Recovering

A random short story.

"Al," she said. "Is this how you want to remember me? As a bloodstain on the bed?"

 

He cleared his throat. He struggled to conceal his frustration. "I've told you. That's not my name."

 

Her eyes were closed now, but he knew they were brown - the most beautiful, sparkling brown eyes he'd ever seen. He'd always been enraptured by them. They were what kept him with her all these years. She would anger him. He would struggle to restrain himself when his knuckles ached for a rap against her cheeks. He hid it so well. And when it became too much, when he was convinced he should end it, the sparkle brought him back to her. He wondered if, in death, the twinkle remained, like stars in daytime. But he'd closed them. He'd said goodbye. And he couldn't bear to look.

 

"Why, Al?" she asked, her mouth bright with all-natural, blood-colored lipstick. "I don't deserve this."

 

He turned away from her. She looked so helpless lying on the bed, a thick red line traced with a sharp marker across her throat. The window confused him. Outside, darkness, and white feathers falling from the sky. He'd left the blinds open. Someone might have seen. Perhaps a deer passing through the field. Perhaps a person. Perhaps a white bird. He knew he would feel scrutinized by every living thing because, in truth, every living thing could have seen what he'd done.

 

"I have a destiny," he answered finally. "I tried to fight it. We all try to fight it."

 

"Mine was love." Her voice was soft, melodic. It was a shiv into his liver. He wanted to sleep.

 

"Just let go. It's simple, like slipping into a hot bath."

 

"As if," she began, suddenly accusatory and harsh, "you would know."

 

He closed the blinds. His fingers were lead. "You never even knew my name," he said. He turned around and looked at her.

 

Her head lolled to the side. Her eyes were open. Tears sparkled in them. "Your name," she whispered, "is Al."

 

He shook his head. His bottom lip quivered. He wished he could give back what he took. "No. You call me Al for short."

 

She let out a singular, soft sob. He felt loved. "And now, you'll always be Alone."

 

He went outside and gathered the white feathers. He wanted to fly away, but the journey was for her wings only.

 

So he left her coagulating in the bed.

Author's Note

I invite all interpretations.

Reviews

[...]

Interesting read, felt is was kind of sad, yet there was some room for hope. Nicely done and creative!

[Wandering Violet]

Very interesting and unusual story. It leaves the reader with so many options as to what is actually happening, even what the characters really are. Thanks for a fascinating read.

[Fairytale]

I can't quite figure this out. There's a lot of description and some showing. You choose interesting ways of describing your characters physically. Like this: "Her eyes were closed now, but he knew they were brown - the most beautiful, sparkling brown eyes he'd ever seen."
This story could almost be a poem.

[Meghan]

I like how you leave it up to the reader to decide what happened and who these characters were. Very interesting write! Good job! :)