My Cry Unanswered

I can sense his presence before he has even come near. So familiar, a kindred spirit. His presence makes a cold lump rise in my throat, my heart jump at the thought that he had come back. He had come back.

I turn towards him, my eyes brimming with tears. And there he stands. The part of me that had missing for so long.

A masterpiece of memories shatters within my mind, allowing me to once again view them one by one.

A small grin, a playful laugh. A quick hug and bubbly laughter. We had grown together, lived through the joy and the storms together. We had become inseparable.

Two pure hearts, intertwined, not meant to be torn apart.

But our bond was fated to be broken.

He had left, leaving no trace, no reason for his abrupt disappearance.

It had caused me many griefs, many long, tearful nights, but I had not lost hope. That's what I believe in.

Never lose hope.

Years later, here I am, alone in my throne room, awaiting an angel to deliver me from the loneliness.

And here he was.

I stand in the middle of the stone cold room, unsure of what to say. What to say after all these years of hard times and sorrowful reminisces? After all the longing and solitary confinement within my own heart, my own lonely soul?

He walks forward, his black cape swishing around him.

An unseen wind ruffles his dark hair, revealing his grey eyes. Hard and cold, the warmth no longer present within them. A kind flame no longer shone, as though it had been lost over the years.

What had happened to you, dear friend?

Finally, he is before me.

I reach out a milky white hand. Touch his cheek, as though I am unsure that he is really here. That he is not merely a figment of my imagination, summoned from the deep longing inside of me.

A solitary silver tear trails down my face.

My lips turn upwards in a quiet smile.

"You're back," I whisper. "You've come back."

I stare up into his eyes, seeking the sparkle that had reflected my own happiness so many years before.

But the youthful joy is absent from those grey windows. Only a hidden pain remains.

"You have changed, dear friend."

My voice is barely audible; I can't comprehend what is wrong.

My heart is welling up with sorrow renewed.

"Dear friend, what is wrong?" I ask. Tears are present in my single inquiry. I am so confused, so disturbed by the change in him, I don't know what to do. Only want to cry.

Memories pass through my mind's eye, showing me how much I have lost.

His small figure walks towards me, two apples in hand. He tosses me one; I easily catch it. Our joyful laughter fills the air, warming our hearts.

It is a beautiful day. Soft sunlight shines upon us, fluffy white clouds floating through the deep blue sky. Lush green grasses sway in the gentle wind. Apple trees stand in the distance, and small flower petals sweep past my vision.

His eyes shine with the laughter that his voice is revealing.

The boyishness in his grin makes my own smile grow.

The baby fat is not yet gone from our rosy cheeks.

He offers out his petite hand, and I take it. Together, we walk off towards a sparkling lake, our laughter still echoing in our ears.

And the thing I remember most of that day? Our smiles.

My heart is overflowing now, revealing themselves in the tears that flow like a river.

"My dear, dear friend," I cry.

I am sobbing now, and I can't understand why.

All I can understand is that something is wrong.

His silence rings in my ears, and I can take it no longer.

My knees weaken in surrender, and I sink to the ground.

"Please..."

The plea is screaming within my soul. But still, I cannot understand why.

He kneels down before me. A hand touches the skirt of my sky blue dress, made of the softest silk.

It is a replica of the same gown his mother had made for me, just before her passing into the next realm.

A rough hand, with a gentle touch, cups my chin, lifting it to gaze into stormy orbs.

Finally, I can see he is crying, too. Deep within, where no soul can see. Where deep sorrows have always been hiding, tucked away into the crevices of so many dark secrets.

He takes my right hand with his left, our fingers perfectly aligned. His dark, rough hand against my white and slender.

His hand closes over mine so that our fingers are intertwined.

The sign of friendship that we had repeated so many times in the past.

With his other hand, he reaches into his cloak, then brings it out as a closed fist.

Bringing it between us, he opens it, palm up.

Lying in the center of his hand is a four-leaf clover, crystallized in a shell of diamond. A thin silver chain trails out from the top.

He removes his hand from my own, abruptly breaking our clasp.

He drops the sparkling item into my outstretched hand.

His next words seem to echo for endless miles, in this stone chamber, and the one within my heart.

"It was your gift to me on the eve of my manhood. I return it to you."

His words send a sharp, staggering chill into my heart.

Why?

"Why do you return it to me?" My whisper is barely audible to even my ears. The pain within my soul is so evident, a flicker of emotion barely passes over his cold face.

I search his face, wishing to find a reason for this act. Wishing to understand. To understand.

"Forgive me."

In a swift, fluid motion, his hand moves towards me, and I briefly glimpse a flash of silver.

Then pain sweeps through me, heightening the emotional turmoil within me.

He can no longer look at me, and he backs away.

"Forgive me," he repeats.

The world around me darkens, and I feel my arm reaching out towards him, a last plea for his past self, the child I had once known, to return.

He backs away, turns, then breaks into a run.

In the last flickering of light, I catch sight of a single tear slipping down his cheek.

And my last thought, a grieving cry... Why?