11-04-2007, 01:39 PM
A woman with black hair so long that it brushed the ground and so dark that it was purple even in the dim light of a crescent moon, stood on a hill. The path behind her that she had walked in the grass was brown with death, but the surrounding grass was still green. She stood on a hill that overlooked a flat, dry, and lifeless expanse of land that stretched out as far as the eye could see. Grey clouds were gathered over the plain and lightning struck the bare ground every few seconds.
She wore a long black silk dress as she gazed out over the dead land. Her grey eyes looked serious and gave the appearance of one who has no emotions, but inside, her heart was breaking and she longed to cry. The wasteland mirrored her life, thoughts and dreams.
Her lover had killed himself three years ago to the day. October 31st 1900 was the current date. He had ventured out over the plain that now loomed before her and had come back a raving lunatic. Supposedly, the other side held things beyond the imagination of any mortal and held fruits that could cure any disease or illness. The natives of the local town called it "The Wasteland of Hope". Her lover, Michael, had gone out in hopes of finding fruit for his beloved little sister who was only 10. She'd been sick for months and no medicines anyone knew of could ease her pain and suffering. She'd died shortly after Michael had hung himself from a peach tree in his parent's orchard.
As Celeste watched, the thunder from the storm reached her ears. There was always a storm over the expanse of land but it stopped right at the edge of the hill and never came across. She wandered over to a small grey marble headstone that stuck out of the ground about three feet and sat down beside it, her eyes never leaving the wasteland. She traced the words on the stone with her fingertips, not even having to look to know what it said. It'd been erected three years ago as a warning and a twisted memorial. It read:
Hopes, dreams, life
and everything you hold dear
will die here
should you cross the green grass line.
In memory of Michael -
Michael's family name had been left off due to the fact they didn't want to be remembered as the family of the young man who'd hung himself. They'd loved him, but they had their reputation to uphold if they were going to continue to live in the community and make money. It was sad, really.
Celeste stood and, barefoot, started walking down into the wasteland. She'd had enough of life without her beloved. He'd haunted her dreams every damn night since she'd seen him and his eyes hadn't shone the icy blue they always had before. He'd given her a wild look, like he'd never seen her in his life and he was afraid of her. She'd died that night, even before he had.
The rain drenched her to the bone and chilled her before she'd gone twenty steps into the barren land. Lightning flashed all around her and thunder boomed overhead, but she kept her grey eyes on the horizon. She was determined to either go mad as her lover had, or be killed by the lightning. Just then, a bolt struck so close to her that her hair stood up for a moment. She blinked the flash spots out of her vision, her pace unchanging. She was already a good distance into the wasteland. She didn't know how long she'd been walking or what time it was. Another bolt struck and she stopped dead. Standing there before her, was her lover.
Celeste was smart enough to know it might be a trick of the wasteland, but she rushed into her lover's arms. He held her close and whispered secret words to her that only the two of them had known.
Another flash of lightning struck and the two young ones were gone. In their place was a heart shaped scorch mark, surrounded by other scorch marks that resembled nothing.
The families both knew where Celeste had gone when they went to the marker and found a black rose lying atop it. It was Michael's favorite flower and the only other person who'd ever liked them and grown them was Celeste.
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