End Game

There were no starts in the sky this eve. Only dark clouds loomed bellow the celestial heavens this night. Under it, two unexpected companions made their way from a dark sports car towards the door of an unremarkable suburbia home, passing by a bush of decadent roses before arriving at the door. A key of shinning silver turned in the door, releasing mechanical complexities as the faint moon’s distant light reflected off of its mirrored surface.

The portal now lay open to the pair, who now enter, cautious not to make a noise; there are others fast asleep in this home. The dark haired lass leads the way, her larger cohort following mere steps behind. Not a word has been spoken, not since the innocent, good natured chat on the way there, but there are other languages than those we speak to communicate intentions.

Her slender, curvy figure sways side to side as she climbs the stairs slowly, moving much as she has all night in the presence of this fellow. She stops. A crooked eye brow and a wry smile over her shoulder tell him to follow. As she continues up the steps, the young man hurries to follow.

Now cresting the top of the staircase, he finds her standing before a mirror, hair down, inspecting the pleasant display held within its pooled depths. Stepping behind her, he regards the image with unerring approval. She turns to him; now only inches apart looking up into his wanting eyes, and finds herself unable to deny the attraction either. She is torn by the loyalty she holds to her true lover, regardless of the lack of satisfaction he brings her.

The young man staring into her darkened orbs is uncertain too; loyalty not to a lover, but to a dear friend is his concern; this worry lasts for only a moment before he places it easily in the back of his mind. He leans down towards the stark beauty before him and their hearts race as lips brush past one another…

He found himself in a small dark room; complete silence had engulfed the confines of the chamber in a way he only wished would engulf the pained screams in his heart. Mixed with emotions of anger and sadness, he was alone. Be this as it may, it had been quite sometime since last he had known such profound and utter sense of aloneness.

The evening had begun with a close friend of his, and a close acquaintance of another kind. The coffee shop had been a pleasant change from the usual, and he was glad for his two friends to have met one another. He had prayed that somehow his friend might help bring him closer to his world’s source of beauty, the one he loved so. His prays never made it to the lord.

The night had offered only unexpected pleasantries between his dearest friend, and the lady he held dearest to his heart. He had been largely left to his own devices, which had become more common as of late. Perhaps she had decided to end her game with him, or perhaps she had become bored, and decided that a new subject was more desirable; one less bound by rules, ideals, codes; one more likely to act upon her invitations. Like espionage, the game was not to be taken lightly, for much was at stake; but neither this young man’s friend, nor this young lady had seemed to mind. When the night had come to an end, he had gone his way, and they theirs; together. He knew what was to come of it.

So here he sat, wishing to be something he wasn’t, praying for mercy on his pained heart. Too much time had passed by with increasing pain, and increasing desire. He had been left drained and scarred by this war of attrition, and could go on no longer. An end was near. Things such as this were not meant to be viewed with eyes of war; this simple fact signaling fault. The only thing left to do was to dig a trench, build a tower, and leave this suffering behind. He would play this game no longer.