http://deadpumpkin.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
deadpumpkin.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
31_days2006-12-02 11:38 pm
deadpumpkin.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2006-12-02 11:38 pm
[Dec 2] [Original: The Walker] Untitled
Title: Untitled
Day/Theme: 2 / I didn’t know we’d come to be, it is like fate that we met
Series: Original / The Walker
Character/Pairing: The Walker
Rating: PG
Day/Theme: 2 / I didn’t know we’d come to be, it is like fate that we met
Series: Original / The Walker
Character/Pairing: The Walker
Rating: PG
The Walker brushed aside the blanket that hung over the doorway. He stepped through into the dark humid room. Sharon was there on the bed. Her thin form was being swallowed up by the overstuffed pillows and a massive hand sewn quilt. Walker was pretty sure that she had sewn it herself, but it could have been an heirloom from her mother as well. The room smelt of incense and medicine. It was a quaint, comfortable room where only the portable medical monitor seemed out of place. Her head was smaller than he remembered, but her face was the same. Older, of course, but everything that he loved about her was still in that face. Those dark eyes came to life when they saw him. She started to speak but ended up coughing.
Sharon was dying. He didn’t need to be told. It was carved into her like a commandment. He tossed his traveling bag to the floor and knelt down by her bedside. Her frail hand found its way to his and he held it tenderly, like a lover.
“You came,” she finally managed to say. Her throat was tight and the sound barely escaped her lips.
He smiled lightly. “Of course I came.” He said it as if it was inevitable, but he knew inside that it was only chance that had brought him to this place and time. He had lost track of Sharon more than forty years ago. The fact that he was here now was the greatest of coincidences. She didn’t need to here that, though, so he didn’t tell her.
“I have missed you.” A tear slid down her wrinkled cheek. She held his hand tighter. “I loved you.”
With his free hand he placed a gentle fingertip across her lips. “Save your energy, my love,” he told her. A broad smile crossed his own lips and his tone grew brighter. “I told you I would return someday, didn’t I?”
She began to sob. She could only mouth the words thank you.
The Walker felt his own throat tighten. He had done this so many times before. He had loved Sharon. He stayed with her for two weeks once. He stayed too long, in fact. It took years to recover. He always wanted to return, but he knew it would be harder to part if he did, and the next time might be fatal. Very few people had ever made him resent his immortality. Sharon did that. So now he found himself once more going through the ritual of watching his once beloved die. He cursed the fates that brought him to this town. He thanked them for letting him say goodbye to her.
“Does it hurt much?” he asked her. She nodded weakly. Her thin lips tightened. His large fingers softly touched her sunken cheeks. “I can take the pain away, my love.” He never understood the modern need to force the ailing to endure such pain with death so inevitable. “I can release you, if you wish.” He was taught to respect the older ones. He believed in death with dignity. More than that, he hated seeing her like this. She could be dead by morning anyway, but if could do anything to help her he would.
Her nod was very slight, but it was there. She wanted to be released from her hell. She knew that her love had returned to her for this, that it was fate granting her greatest wish, to spend one last night with her love. It wasn’t fair that he looked the same, and she wanted to be angry, but he was so beautiful to her that she could not find the power to be angry with him. “Save me,” she whispered.
The Walker grabbed his travel pack and rifled through one of the worn side pockets of canvas. He pulled out a small square of waxed paper. Unfolding it, he withdrew a single small leaf. He held it to her lips. “Can you bite down on this?” He knew the answer even before she answered that she couldn’t. He leaned over and kissed her tenderly upon her withered lips. “I have always loved you, even while I was away,” he promised. Her eyes sparkled. He bit the thick leaf with his front teeth and placed it in her mouth. He pulled her to him, his heavy hands supporting her like a newborn baby. He cradled her dying form and held her for a long time after life had deserted her. Eventually he laid her still body back among the oversized pillows.
Reaching in his pockets he found his pocket knife. The blade was incredibly sharp. His knowledge of knives extended back for thousands of years. This was the only blade he carried these days, but he maintained it with deadly precision. He lifted Sharon’s still right hand and held the blade to her palm. Thin blood dripped from the quick incision he made. He dipped one finger in the blood and drew lines extending down from his own eyes. These will be my tears, he thought as he remembered the ancient ritual. He licked her palm and felt the blood wash over his tongue. This will be my life. The Walker thought of all of the women and men that he had taken into his life this way. How many were there, he wondered. He felt ashamed that he could not remember each one, and he knew that someday, many years from now, he would forget Sharon. Now her blood was a part of him, and his blood would remember what his mind may forget.
He cleaned the knife and put it away. Hoisting his travel pack, he ducked through the blanket covered doorway once more. A screen door slammed behind him as he left. He did not notice the chill in the air, and it would not have bothered him if he did. The road extended in both directions. It was time for another decision. He pulled a quarter from his pocket and let the fates decide for him.
He walked.
[Personal note: 1033 words]
Sharon was dying. He didn’t need to be told. It was carved into her like a commandment. He tossed his traveling bag to the floor and knelt down by her bedside. Her frail hand found its way to his and he held it tenderly, like a lover.
“You came,” she finally managed to say. Her throat was tight and the sound barely escaped her lips.
He smiled lightly. “Of course I came.” He said it as if it was inevitable, but he knew inside that it was only chance that had brought him to this place and time. He had lost track of Sharon more than forty years ago. The fact that he was here now was the greatest of coincidences. She didn’t need to here that, though, so he didn’t tell her.
“I have missed you.” A tear slid down her wrinkled cheek. She held his hand tighter. “I loved you.”
With his free hand he placed a gentle fingertip across her lips. “Save your energy, my love,” he told her. A broad smile crossed his own lips and his tone grew brighter. “I told you I would return someday, didn’t I?”
She began to sob. She could only mouth the words thank you.
The Walker felt his own throat tighten. He had done this so many times before. He had loved Sharon. He stayed with her for two weeks once. He stayed too long, in fact. It took years to recover. He always wanted to return, but he knew it would be harder to part if he did, and the next time might be fatal. Very few people had ever made him resent his immortality. Sharon did that. So now he found himself once more going through the ritual of watching his once beloved die. He cursed the fates that brought him to this town. He thanked them for letting him say goodbye to her.
“Does it hurt much?” he asked her. She nodded weakly. Her thin lips tightened. His large fingers softly touched her sunken cheeks. “I can take the pain away, my love.” He never understood the modern need to force the ailing to endure such pain with death so inevitable. “I can release you, if you wish.” He was taught to respect the older ones. He believed in death with dignity. More than that, he hated seeing her like this. She could be dead by morning anyway, but if could do anything to help her he would.
Her nod was very slight, but it was there. She wanted to be released from her hell. She knew that her love had returned to her for this, that it was fate granting her greatest wish, to spend one last night with her love. It wasn’t fair that he looked the same, and she wanted to be angry, but he was so beautiful to her that she could not find the power to be angry with him. “Save me,” she whispered.
The Walker grabbed his travel pack and rifled through one of the worn side pockets of canvas. He pulled out a small square of waxed paper. Unfolding it, he withdrew a single small leaf. He held it to her lips. “Can you bite down on this?” He knew the answer even before she answered that she couldn’t. He leaned over and kissed her tenderly upon her withered lips. “I have always loved you, even while I was away,” he promised. Her eyes sparkled. He bit the thick leaf with his front teeth and placed it in her mouth. He pulled her to him, his heavy hands supporting her like a newborn baby. He cradled her dying form and held her for a long time after life had deserted her. Eventually he laid her still body back among the oversized pillows.
Reaching in his pockets he found his pocket knife. The blade was incredibly sharp. His knowledge of knives extended back for thousands of years. This was the only blade he carried these days, but he maintained it with deadly precision. He lifted Sharon’s still right hand and held the blade to her palm. Thin blood dripped from the quick incision he made. He dipped one finger in the blood and drew lines extending down from his own eyes. These will be my tears, he thought as he remembered the ancient ritual. He licked her palm and felt the blood wash over his tongue. This will be my life. The Walker thought of all of the women and men that he had taken into his life this way. How many were there, he wondered. He felt ashamed that he could not remember each one, and he knew that someday, many years from now, he would forget Sharon. Now her blood was a part of him, and his blood would remember what his mind may forget.
He cleaned the knife and put it away. Hoisting his travel pack, he ducked through the blanket covered doorway once more. A screen door slammed behind him as he left. He did not notice the chill in the air, and it would not have bothered him if he did. The road extended in both directions. It was time for another decision. He pulled a quarter from his pocket and let the fates decide for him.
He walked.
[Personal note: 1033 words]
. . . .